Sophia was feeling uneasy inside. Why did Jackson look the same, but it felt like he was a completely different person?

She pondered for a while before nervously speaking up, "I... I don't want to lend it. Gemma says she’ll return it, but she never does... This isn’t the first time she’s borrowed something from us and never gave it back..."

"She... she’s borrowed so much from us..."

Hearing his wife’s words, Jackson gave her a comforting smile, lightly tapping her nose with his finger. He spoke in a tender tone, "If you don't want to lend it, then don't. Tomorrow, make a list of what she’s borrowed, and I’ll go get it back for you... We won’t put up with her nonsense."

When Jackson smiled like that, Sophia froze. Even though she’d been married for a while, he had never smiled at her like this, not even on their wedding day.

If he couldn’t keep being this good, she didn’t want to get her hopes up. Hope only to have it shattered later would make her feel even more miserable.

She picked up their daughter and walked into the bedroom.

Jackson stood there, staring at her retreating figure. After a moment, he snapped out of it, quickly finished his meal, and cleaned up the dishes.

He headed to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Once done, he cut about half a pound of meat, tied it up with some twine, and, in the dark, left the house.

The village leader, Blake, saw Jackson and paused, but upon noticing the meat in his hand, his wrinkled face broke into a wide smile. He quickly invited him inside.

"Jackson, what brings you here so late?" Blake asked, accepting the meat and offering Jackson a cigarette.

"Blake, I’m thinking of installing an electric light at home. Could you help arrange it?" Jackson asked, taking the cigarette and sitting down on an old stool.

Blake glanced at the fat piece of pork and smiled, his eyes squinting with delight.

That kind of fat pork was prized back then. People ate more fatty cuts because they satisfied cravings, and in those times, nobody had high cholesterol. Jackson, wanting to establish a good relationship with Blake, had specifically chosen the fattiest part.

"Sure, Jackson. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it tomorrow," Blake replied readily.

Jackson, feeling relieved, stood up to leave after thanking him.

He walked quickly toward home. As he passed the kitchen, he saw Sophia, her face lit by the faint moonlight. She was crouched over, gnawing on leftover meat bones.

This sight hit him hard. His heart froze, and pain surged through him as though his blood had turned to ice. His fist clenched, cracking with tension.

"What are you doing?" His voice cracked with emotion.

Sophia, startled by his voice, froze. The bone in her hand dropped to the floor with a clink.

Shaking, she looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. "Please, don’t hit me... I didn’t steal anything... I didn’t, really! These are your leftover bones. I just thought it’d be a shame to waste them."

At that moment, Jackson felt as though lightning had struck him. He’d never felt so defeated.

He had come home hungry and eaten without thinking to ask if she had eaten. In his subconscious, he assumed she had.

But he had forgotten. Before he ate, she wouldn’t dare eat first. Once, after he’d come home late from gambling, she was so hungry that she ate first, and he slapped her face so hard it swelled.

Slowly, he moved into the kitchen, his body stiff, his back hunched with shame.

He knelt in front of her.

Sophia screamed in surprise, her eyes wide with confusion. What was he doing now?

Before she could step back, Jackson pulled her into his arms, burying his face against her chest. His voice was rough and filled with emotion.

"Honey, I was wrong. I wasn’t a man before. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. I swear, I’ll never do it again. Please, stop torturing yourself."

Sophia lowered her gaze, feeling the warmth of his tears seep into her chest.

He was crying.

Her heart, which had been tightly locked away, suddenly felt the tiniest bit of softening.

The weight of two years’ worth of grievances, of all the silent suffering, felt like it was flooding out of her. Her tears fell freely, and the floodgates opened.

She had thought about divorce when Jackson hit her, when he mistreated her, but her mother always persuaded her against it. “Women who divorce and remarry in this era are treated harshly,” her mother would say. Besides, men hitting women was so common. Sophia had tried to convince herself that it was normal. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t.

Her small fists hit his chest, her voice a desperate sob.

"Jackson, you bastard. You heartless monster! You bully me, and now you want to sell our daughter—the daughter I carried for ten months—just to buy alcohol. She’s your flesh and blood, even if she’s a girl. She’s a part of me!"

"You’re a beast, a monster!"

Her voice cracked with bitter sorrow.

Though she was now a mother, she was still just a twenty-year-old girl. Before marriage, she had been spoiled by her parents, but after their family’s downfall, she was forced to grow up quickly.

Her fists, despite the anger, couldn’t do any real damage. They barely made a difference. But even so, Jackson felt as though his heart was being sliced apart.

He wasn’t man enough, was he? His wife was so terrified of eating the leftover scraps he’d left behind.

This moment felt like a knife stabbing deep into his chest.

He couldn’t help but wish he could beat himself senseless.

After a long time, Sophia’s tears stopped falling, and her fists finally ceased. Jackson knew she had vented her emotions. Gently, he released her waist, standing up with his head down.

His large, warm hand cupped her delicate face, and he leaned down to kiss the tears from her cheek. His voice was soft and sincere.

"Honey, go wait in the living room. I’ll bring you your meal once it’s ready. You can’t go hungry. You’re my savior."

Sophia was confused, staring at him, unsure of what he meant.

After his illness, they had tried everything, even science, but no matter what they did, he couldn’t have children. He had nothing left.

Sophia had never been treated so gently by him before, even when they’d been intimate.

Now, he was kissing her, and her pale cheeks burned, like ripe persimmons. She was so embarrassed she could barely stand it. She kicked her feet and ran out of the kitchen, flushed and feeling like she’d seen a ghost.

In the back room, she covered her burning face with her hands, cursing herself for being so weak. How could this brat manage to stir her emotions with just a few words?

How could he make her feel this way, like the men in romance novels who always make women’s hearts race?

Her heart beat wildly, almost jumping out of her chest.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Jackson was busy, finishing off a small stir-fry of meat.

He felt hungry, but Sophia wouldn’t even eat a bite of the food he cherished.

After a moment of composure, Jackson carried the stir-fried meat and cornbread into the room, setting them on the table.

"Honey, the food is ready. Come and eat." He bent down to lift the curtain.

As he entered the room, Sophia’s white back caught his attention.

His blood rushed to his lower abdomen, and he swallowed hard. Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

Breathing heavily, he buried his face in her smooth neck, whispering with a hoarse voice.

"Honey, you smell so good."

Sophia felt his tear-soaked shirt clinging to her chest, and she was uncomfortable. She had planned to change, but he barged in before she could.

With his strong, masculine scent surrounding her, she felt uneasy, trapped in his embrace.