The Marriage She Turned into War novel Chapter 104

Joshua had always been a master of playing the victim. Sometimes, I couldn't help but think that if he ever decided to focus on acting, he might actually end up winning an Oscar someday.

But no, Joshua thought that he had hit the jackpot when he managed to latch onto Abigail, so he had stopped putting any real effort into developing his talents. He truly loved basking in the limelight and soaking up the adoration like a rising star.

The problem was that the spotlight didn't last forever. The entertainment industry moved fast, and a younger, more talented face would replace him sooner or later.

Sure enough, the moment Abigail heard Joshua's whining over the phone, her expression softened instantly.

Watching her, I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. My gut feeling had been spot on. Abigail didn't care about me at all. All of this was just her way of humiliating me.

"Wait for me at a café nearby. I'll be there soon, okay?" she replied sweetly.

She was about to end the call, but Joshua's pitiful voice came through again. "But it's raining here, and I don't have an umbrella or a ride. What should I do?"

Every word was calculated to guilt-trip Abigail into rushing back to him.

Then, out of nowhere, Abigail's demeanor shifted. Her face darkened, and her tone turned icy. "Joshua, don't tell me that Cecilia is useless. Call her and have her pick you up!"

Without waiting for a reply, she hung up on him, cutting off whatever excuse he was about to throw her way.

Her reaction caught me off guard. Wasn't Joshua supposed to be her prized possession? When did he fall out of favor?

The next morning, I had expected Abigail to call me, but she didn't. It was as if her visit to my rented apartment had been nothing more than a figment of my imagination.

I headed downstairs to grab breakfast. The sight of a steaming hotdog at a nearby food stall suddenly made me hungry, so I ordered one and sat down to eat.

During this stretch of illness, George had repeatedly warned me to avoid spicy, hard-to-digest foods and stick to light meals like oatmeal to help with my recovery.

But I couldn't care less anymore. I was already a man with little time left. What was the point of all these rules?

I might as well enjoy life while I still could. I should just eat what I want and do what I want—that was my new motto.