My Craft, Her GiftChapter 1
My husband stole and gifted my pottery piece to his beloved Kate for a Valentine’s Day surprise. She held it up proudly at a press conference, claiming it as her own and accusing me of stealing it.
Desperate for even a shred of support, I turned to him, but he only sneered, “Why would you take something that isn’t yours? You’re disgusting."
The crowd turned against me in an instant. Condemning me with glares and whispers, they left no room for me to defend myself.
Feeling utterly defeated, I walked away.
But fate has a way of circling back. Later, my husband and I crossed paths again at a charity gala.
This time, everything had changed.
I was the center of attention while he stood diminished and out of place, with tears in his eyes, begging me for another chance.
...
Under the spotlight, Kate held the original prototype of my ceramic vase at a press conference.
She condescendingly said, “If you can’t come up with your own work, maybe don’t even bother. Stealing someone else’s design is seriously low.”
I stood there, numb, staring at the prototype in her hands. Desperately, I reached out to Ryan, my husband, hoping he would finally stand by me.
“You know that design is mine,” I whispered. Why does she have it, Ryan?"
But Ryan’s expression was ice cold. He then brushed me off with that same dismissive look. "Why would you take something that doesn't belong to you? You’re disgusting.”
Moments ago, I clung to the hope that he would stand up for me and that he’d remember I showed him the original pottery piece before I even entered the competition.
But instead, he delivered the final blow.
Whispers started to ripple through the crowd, faces filled with disdain.
“Even her husband’s confirming it,” one of them commented.
Another spectator added, “Guess she really did plagiarize.”
“She’s got some nerve, pulling this here!” someone shouted.
“Stealing someone's work and then lying about it? Pathetic!” A mock came through the guests.
It hit me that any attempt to explain was pointless.
With my husband standing firmly by her side, I was utterly alone.
I didn't remember much about leaving the press conference—just the cold, unrelenting rain that soaked through my clothes as I walked, mirroring the emptiness I felt inside.
When I got home, I was drenched, shivering from the inside out.