The husband left the divorce papers for his wife, then happily dragged his suitcase containing 4 billion pesos in cash and moved into his mistress’s house…
The sound of the suitcase wheels scraping against the tiled floor was sharp and irritating, just like Anton’s laughter at that moment. He stood in front of the mirror, adjusted the collar of his designer shirt, sprayed a little Chanel perfume, then turned toward Lina—his wife—who was busy mopping the floor in worn, faded house clothes.
“I’m leaving,” Anton said, his tone full of smug superiority.
“I’ve already signed the divorce papers. They’re on the table. You just need to sign them and submit them to the court. I’ll leave this house to you as the final remnant of our marriage. The 4 billion pesos in cash and the cars—I’m taking those.”
Lina looked up. Her face was bare, without makeup, her hair hastily tied in a bun with a few loose strands falling down. She stared at Anton, her eyes calm like an autumn lake, without a single ripple.
“Are you sure?” Lina asked softly, her voice surprisingly steady.
“Once you walk out that door, there will be no coming back.”
Anton burst into loud laughter.
“Come back? Are you joking? I’m escaping this boring ‘grave’ and heading to paradise with Nicole. Just look at yourself—plain, provincial-looking, and all you know is the kitchen. Standing next to you makes me feel like a loser. Fine, goodbye, ‘cold rice.’ I hope you find some old man willing to marry you!”
Anton dragged his suitcase and walked out without looking back.
The door slammed shut.
Lina stood there for a moment, then set the mop aside. She walked to the table, picked up the divorce papers, and signed them swiftly and decisively. The corner of her lips curved slightly—not a smile of sadness, but a smile of freedom.
Anton moved in with Nicole—his young, attractive mistress.
The first three days felt like heaven.
But by the fourth day, Anton began to realize that this “heaven” had problems.
Nicole didn’t know how to cook, so every day they ate at expensive restaurants.
She didn’t know how to iron clothes, so his designer shirts were always wrinkled.
And most importantly—Nicole spent money like water.
The cash Anton had brought with him quickly began to run out.
Exactly one week after Anton left.
He was eating instant noodles because Nicole was at a spa and hadn’t come home to cook, when his phone suddenly rang.
It was Lina.
Anton raised an eyebrow and answered the call with arrogance.
“What?”
“Regretting it already?”
“Calling to beg me to come back?”
“I told you—”
“Come home immediately.”
Lina cut him off. Her voice was cold but urgent.
“This concerns the land title and the residence certificate. If you don’t get here within 30 minutes, you’ll lose all your rights.”
The call ended.
Anton panicked. Even though the house was old, the land was large and valuable. He feared Lina might be plotting to take full ownership of the property. Without thinking further, Anton grabbed his jacket and hurriedly drove back to their former home.
As he turned into the alley, he slammed on the brakes.
The usually quiet street was packed with luxury cars—Mercedes, Porsche, Audi—lined up one after another. Music filled the air. The gate of the house was decorated with fresh imported flowers, and a large red sign reading “Wedding Celebration” hung prominently. The aroma of food drifted everywhere. Dozens—perhaps hundreds—of banquet tables had been set up, and guests came and went, all dressed in expensive suits, looking influential and powerful.
Anton’s mind went blank.
A wedding? At his house?
Who was getting married?
Could it be… Lina?
Impossible! They had only been separated for a week. Who would marry a “provincial” woman like Lina—and hold such a grand celebration? More likely, she had sold the house to some businessman using it as a party venue.
Pushing through the crowd, Anton stormed into the courtyard.
“Lina! What kind of nonsense are you pulling? This is my house—how dare you—”
The words died in his throat.
On the stage, laid with a red carpet, stood Lina.
But she was no longer the woman in simple house clothes from a week ago. She was wearing a shimmering mermaid-style wedding gown adorned with crystals, perfectly outlining the slender figure she had long hidden under loose clothing. Her face was beautifully made up, radiating an elegant beauty Anton barely recognized.
Standing beside her, holding her hand tightly, was a tall, strikingly handsome man.
Anton rubbed his eyes. Was he seeing things?
That man was Mr. Victor Cruz—the CEO of the largest real estate corporation in Metro Manila. A man Anton’s company had desperately tried to secure subcontract deals with, yet had never even met.
Anton stood frozen, his mouth agape.
Lina noticed him. She whispered something to her fiancé, and the two of them stepped down from the stage together. Victor looked at Anton with the sharp, commanding gaze of a true leader, sending chills down Anton’s spine.
“So you’re Anton,” Victor said calmly, “my wife’s ex-husband, correct? Thank you for signing the papers so quickly. With my connections, the court finalized everything in just three days. Now, I invite you to stay and have a glass of celebratory wine.”
Anton stammered, his face turning pale.
“W-wife? Your wife? Sir Victor… why would you… she’s just—”
Lina stepped forward. Her confident, dignified presence completely eclipsed her treacherous ex-husband.
“You mean, I’m just ‘cold rice,’ right?” Lina smiled—a smile as radiant as a blooming peony. She turned to Anton and spoke loudly enough for all the relatives and guests to hear:
“You said I was provincial, ugly, and only belonged in the kitchen. But you never knew—I graduated cum laude in Economics and chose to stay home to support you. You said I was boring, but Victor values my calmness and intelligence.”
Lina wrapped her arm around Victor, her eyes filled with happiness.
“Victor courted me back in college. But I chose you because I believed you were loyal. For ten years, Victor waited. And the moment you threw me away like stale rice, he accepted me as a treasure.”
Victor gently tightened his arm around Lina’s shoulder and looked at Anton with pity.
“Anton, there’s a saying: ‘The cold rice in your house becomes someone else’s delicacy.’ You had eyes but failed to see Mount Taishan; you held a pearl and mistook it for a stone. This banquet is to celebrate, before the entire community, that I reclaimed her from someone who never knew her worth.”
Thunderous applause erupted.
Eyes filled with disdain and mockery turned toward Anton. His relatives—who once supported him in belittling Lina—now lowered their heads, avoiding the gaze of the powerful CEO.
Anton felt the ground collapse beneath his feet.
He had lost an exceptional wife—and offended an industry tycoon. His career was finished. Worse still, his pride as a man had been utterly crushed.
“You may leave now,” Victor ordered coldly.
“This celebration is not for outsiders. And starting tomorrow, don’t bother submitting applications to our partner companies—you’ve already been blacklisted.”
A bodyguard stepped forward to “escort” Anton out.
He walked silently through the gate, the joyful wedding music behind him stabbing into his heart. Outside, rain began to fall. Anton remembered the warm soup Lina used to cook whenever the weather turned cold—the care he once took for granted.
Now, that “cold rice” was being served on a golden plate, in someone else’s luxury bowl. And he was left with nothing but regret—too late—while his mistress called him nonstop, demanding money.
Some lessons are simple:
If you have something precious and fail to cherish it, don’t go looking for it once it’s gone.