Chapter 3

The doctor sighed and patiently broke it down for Ben.

After the doctor finished explaining and showed him pictures of other cases, Ben finally accepted his fate, looking miserable as he dragged himself to the first-floor pharmacy with the prescription.

On the way home, Ben kept his mask on like armor, afraid someone might catch a glimpse of his face and realize he'd somehow gotten fungus right on it.

But getting fungus on his face wasn't even the worst part.

Ben worked in sales, always having to entertain clients. But with that mask glued to his face, he couldn't even join in for drinks.

His boss told him to stay home and come back once he was all healed up.

But the doctor said Ben should've come in the moment his skin started itching.

Now that he'd let it drag on, it was gonna take at least three or four weeks to clear up.

That meant he had to hand off all the hot leads he was working on to his coworkers.

That was all cash slipping away. The more Ben stewed over it, the more frustrated he got, his chest heaving and his face thunderous.

He couldn't figure out how he ended up with fungus on his face.

I was enjoying the show, and a few days later, I finally let him in on the secret.

One day, I was glued to the live feed from the hidden camera I'd secretly set up at home.

On the screen, Monica walked into the bathroom and soaked her socks in my sink.

When I saw that, I immediately called in sick and rushed home.

As soon as I opened the door, I caught her right in the act. She was washing her socks.

I frowned, clearly disgusted. "Monica, that's my sink. How could you use it to wash your socks?"

She saw I was upset, but instead of looking guilty, she looked downright pleased with herself.

She snatched up the red washcloth beside her, gave it a shake, and started slowly wiping her hands with it.

She was so pleased with herself that her eyes were practically sparkling with glee. "It's just a sink. How can you say this is yours? Besides, we're family. It's not a big deal if I use your sink, right?"

Even though it was Ben who was using that sink and washcloth now, seeing her act like she was totally in the right really got under my skin.

I couldn't help but raise my voice. "You're using my sink to wash your socks and my washcloth to wipe your hands? That's nasty. Even if we're family, everyone should have their own personal hygiene items, right?"

She shot me a sideways glare. "Who cares about hygiene? Back in the day, in the village, every household used the same sink for showers, and everyone shared towels. You're the only one acting all sensitive."

Then, Ben walked in.

The moment Monica saw him, all her arrogance vanished.

She collapsed onto the floor, slapping her thighs and wailing. "Ben. I accidentally used your wife's stuff, and now she's upset and taking it out on me.

"Go buy me a ticket right now. I'm heading back to my hometown, so I won't get in your wife's way anymore."

Her tears were like she had a valve installed, turning them on and off whenever she wanted.

She could cry at the drop of a hat. She should've been an actress in those cheesy dramas.

Ever since Ben got suspended from work, he'd been sulking at home, already in a terrible mood.

So when he walked in and saw me arguing with his mom, he didn't even bother to ask what happened.

He immediately took her side and snapped at me. "Linda, why are you making such a fuss? She's your elder, so what if she uses your things?"

The more he talked, the angrier he got, his tone turning even nastier. "You've upset Mom so much she wants to go back to her hometown. You'd better apologize to her right now, or else you'll have hell to pay with me."

If Ben hadn't been the one using that sink and washcloth, his harsh words would have infuriated me enough to make me sick.

I nodded, acting all agreeable. "Ben, you're right. I totally overreacted. From now on, Monica can use whatever she wants. I won't ever complain again."

Putting on my sweetest smile, I walked over, helped her up from the floor, and settled her onto the sofa.

Then I pointed at the sink. "Mom, it's my fault. I'm sorry. If you want to use the sink in the bathroom to soak your socks, go ahead. I swear I won't ever bring it up again."

I paused for a moment, then added, "And the washcloths, feel free to pick whichever one you like to wipe your hands after that."

Then I turned to Ben, who looked a little less angry now. "Ben, since you're such a dutiful son, I'm sure you won't mind if your mom uses your sink for her socks, right?"

Ever since I came back, I stopped using that sink myself.

Instead, every night I'd fill it with water and help Ben wash his face.

These days, Ben was the one using both the sink and the washcloth.

Ben stared at the sink and that soggy washcloth.

His face changed colors like a messed-up paint palette, looking worse by the second.

His chest was heaving, and he jabbed a finger at Monica, practically breathing fire. "Mom, are you seriously losing it? That's my sink. Are you using my sink for your socks? Are you crazy? And this washcloth! No wonder it always reeks."

At that moment, it hit him. He finally realized that the weird rash on his face was actually from Monica's socks.

He bolted into the bathroom, grabbed the toilet, and started puking his guts out.

He was puking and cursing Monica at the same time. "You're so gross... Ugh... You totally ruined me... Thanks to you, I lost a bunch of clients, and my bonus is toast."

Monica shot up from the sofa and rushed after Ben to the bathroom door.

She pointed at the sink and the washcloth. "Ben, what are you saying? Isn't this Linda's washcloth? How could it be yours?"

All that filial piety Ben had shown was gone in a flash.

He whipped around and practically roared at her. "Mom. How could you do something this gross? Look at my face. Look at what you did to me!"

Monica flinched at his outburst, just standing there, totally at a loss.

I watched the whole scene, smirking inwardly.

Now they knew how it felt when it happened to them.