Mary's stomach growled again, dragging her back from her spiraling thoughts. Before anything else—before the apocalypse, before the separation, before figuring out her new identity—she needed to eat. Hunger was an old ache she knew well.
"Ryan," she said softly, "eat first. After we finish, I have something important to tell you."
They sat across from each other at the small table, with bowls in their hands. Steam curled upward from the rice, carrying the warm scent of cabbage and bacon. Ryan picked up his chopsticks slowly to eat the eastern dish, watching her as she ate with quiet focus.
Even though he didn't prefer eastern food much, Ryan still found the food tasted better than he expected—simple, but seasoned properly. The cabbage was soft, the meat fragrant. It was rare for her to cook something so good.
In their village, the original Mary cooked carelessly, throwing ingredients together without much attention. But this Mary… every move was precise. She had washed her hair, changed into clean clothes, and her entire being felt calmer, brighter.
Ryan frowned slightly.
Didn't his mother say this girl didn't know how to cook?
Didn't she say she was clumsy, spoiled, and slow?
Something wasn't adding up.
Maybe she was versed in Eastern dishes or something? But as far as she knows, his wife or her family has never been to the Eastern Continent.
He looked again. Her collar was a little loose; from his angle, he could faintly see the pale curve beneath it. Heat shot to his face before he could control it.
What's wrong with me?
He had never reacted like this toward her before. Embarrassed, he looked away and focused on his rice.
After they finished, Mary cleaned the dishes quietly, steadying her breath. She had rehearsed the words several times in her mind, but saying them aloud felt heavier than she expected.
Still, she couldn't stay tied to someone she didn't know—especially with the apocalypse looming in her memories like a dark storm.
She dried her hands, walked into the living room, and faced him.
"Ryan… I want a divorce."
The chopsticks in Ryan's hand clattered onto the table.
For a moment, he simply stared at her, stunned. The words didn't make sense.
Divorce?
She had fought tooth and nail to marry him—crying, begging, and even using threats against his family to stay with him. His entire village knew about her stubbornness. And now she wanted to leave?
Did she come here and realize the conditions were too hard? Is that it?
It was said that women changed moods like the weather… but this?
Ryan couldn't understand what was going on with his wife.
He let out a sharp breath and said. "What are you fussing about now? Didn't I tell you that once you're feeling better, we'll consummate the marriage? You don't have to resort to divorce because I rejected your rush into consummation, because of my work..."
The word consummate hit Mary like a thunderbolt.
Her ears buzzed. Her face heated in imagination. Her husband is basically talking about sex.
Absolutely not.
She had died a virgin in her past life and somehow restarted life as one. Even in the apocalypse, which is filled with chaos, blood, and near-death experiences countless times, she had never let anyone get close. Back in her past life, she even declared that she would only ever marry when someone overpowers her, and anyone who tried for her hand would also prepare for their death in the process. Her immense strength had kept suitors far away.
And now a complete stranger expected… that?
Mary swallowed hard. "I said those things in anger. I know your family doesn't like me. They think I eat too much. But I can work. I never wanted to be hungry. What's wrong with wanting to eat enough every day?"
She spoke calmly, without hesitation. At first, it appeared as if she was replying non-sensical, but Mary was merely quoting the words from the original owner of the body.
There was no way she could share a marital bed with him before she developed feelings. No way she could let him touch her when she barely knew him.
Ryan's brows drew together. "Not give you food? I send money home every month. I sent thirty yuan last time. You should've had more than enough."
Mary nodded. She had expected that reaction.
So she told him everything.
"When I went home, my mother asked me to come back early and help your family farm. I came. I walked into the house and saw everyone eating meat hamburgers and even dumplings on the side. They only gave me a few when I arrived. I thought they were leftovers, so I didn't complain."
Her expression hardened.
"But that night, I overheard them. They were angry I came home early because I 'ate too much.' They said it was a loss to marry me. That I took up their room. That I was nothing but an outsider who joined the family to drain money. They planned to get rid of me once you returned."
Her voice stayed even, but her eyes were cold.
Ryan's heart twisted painfully.
He had always sent money home. He had trusted his parents to be fair, to treat his wife decently. Thirty yuan wasn't a small amount—for a rural family, it could feed several people well. And yet…
His fists clenched at his sides.
They had deceived him.
They pretended everything was fine because he wasn't home enough to notice.
He suddenly understood what Mary must have felt. The humiliation. The betrayal. The loneliness of being treated as less than human.
His jaw tightened in realization.
He had thought his family's attitude had improved over the years. But now… he realized they had only grown better at hiding it.
And now they had bullied his wife with the money he earned.
His voice was low, dangerous as he almost growled in anger. "I didn't know they treated you like that."
Something dark flickered through his eyes—anger, guilt, protectiveness all tangled together. For the first time, he truly understood: The woman in front of him had been fighting alone.
Then something else clicked in his mind.
"You didn't mention any of this when I went home," he said slowly. "My mother only said you smashed three tables with your strength. Is that… true?"
His brows pulled together in disbelief. Even though she was heavy and looked sturdy, smashing three solid wood tables? That was difficult for even a man.
Mary felt her ears warm at the memory. She wasn't embarrassed for herself—she was embarrassed on behalf of the original owner. After all, her current body carried more than a hundred and fifty kilograms. That weight came with a frightening amount of force.
But strength wasn't a bad thing. A weak woman could be bullied. A strong woman could protect herself.
"It's true," she admitted with a nod. "My strength isn't any less than my brother's. Growing up, no one in the village could defeat me. Well… except my brother."
Ryan stared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted horns.
So it was true. She really had smashed three tables.
His mind turned over the situation again. Yes, she had gone too far. Yes, his family had panicked. But looking at things now… his wife must have been pushed into a corner. His parents had always been biased, and he knew it. Mary wasn't close to them. Of course, she had suffered more than anyone admitted.
Without noticing it, Ryan's heart quietly leaned toward her side.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Then… let's talk again. About the divorce. If you don't feel comfortable consummating the marriage, we can wait. There's no rush. You're still young. Next year—after your birthday—then we can talk."
He said it awkwardly while his face was faintly turning red. The way she reacted earlier… it was like the word "consummate" struck her like lightning. He felt guilty even bringing it up. He wasn't some beast.
Mary blinked, taken aback by how considerate he suddenly seemed.
Honestly, the alternatives were worse. If she divorced now or remarried immediately, the village would drown her in gossip. And the original owner's parents would bear the shame too. She couldn't hurt them—they were good people.
So she lifted her chin and spoke clearly.
"First," she said, "you must get my consent before consummating anything. Second, no matter what I do in the future, you have to protect me. If you go against either of these two conditions, we will divorce. No discussion."
Ryan stared at her.
Why did it feel like… she was kidnapping him instead?
But fine. He would play along—for now. Once they consummated the marriage someday, he would naturally have more say. He wasn't worried.
"Alright," he said with surprising sincerity. "I'll listen to you, wife."
Mary looked into his steady, serious eyes. They were honest—but she sensed something else beneath them.
He definitely has a black belly, she thought. A man who agreed too quickly was never simple.
And despite her appearance—short, round, and far from beautiful—he still refused to divorce her. Something was strange.
(What she didn't know was that Ryan liked her roundness. And in the future, when she lost weight, he would complain endlessly. But that was a story for another time.)
She coughed lightly. "Then where will you sleep? The room next door has a single bed. You can use that."
Ryan's face changed immediately. "No."