My Husband Is a Gary Stu

Timothy thought of the gift he had prepared for Johanna. He selected a photo with a good angle and shared it in the group chat.
He even took the initiative to announce: I made this moon lamp by hand for my wife. Isn't it beautiful?
Cooper sarcastically typed: Even a hundred-dollar moon lamp will look better than this cr*ppy handmade one.
Timothy retorted: At least I made it. You probably can't even make a lamp. Oh right, Ms. Loake is on a business trip abroad.
Even if you bought a lamp, she wouldn't be able to see it.
Cooper: I've only been sleeping alone in this bed for half a month. Look at you. You're pitiful.
Timothy: You're sick in the head.
Cooper: You are childish.
After a short while, Armand sent: Ha ha ha! You guys are hilarious. You're all polite in person but so good at trash-talking in this
group chat.
Upon seeing that writing style, Timothy immediately knew that Genevieve was playing with Armand's phone.
Genevieve: Mr. Jensen, this lamp of yours really isn't very appealing. Forget Mando. Even the rose crystal ball that Zander gave
me was more beautiful than this. If he had put as much effort into pursuing Jojo as he did with me, they probably would have
been married in their freshman year.
Timothy was speechless as he typed: Armand doesn't deserve this. Can't you allow him to have some secrets with his pals?
Genevieve: He told me about it on his own. Aren't you the one encouraging my husband to form cliques with you? You're such a
scheming man. No wonder you're not married.
Cooper: Ms. White is still unmarried. He likes the type of woman like Jojo.
Timothy felt that the group chat should be named “Genevieve's Family Group Chat” instead of “Men's Group Chat”. I can't

believe they all ganged up and bullied me.
He recalled Jerry, who was also in the group chat, didn't have a wife too. That thought brought him some comfort.
Timothy looked out the car window, noticing that the light in Johanna's bedroom was turned off. There was only a faint glow
inside that seemed to be from a desk lamp. He dialed Johanna's number.
Johanna picked up the phone and, with a hint of helplessness, asked, “Do you need anything else?”
“When I bought the lamp, I didn't open it to check. The shop owner just messaged me saying it's a defective piece,” said Timothy.
“If you find it ugly, just throw it away. I'll buy you a better-looking one.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Do you really think it's not nice?” Timothy had spent a week making the lamp following a tutorial, not at all expecting creating a
lamp was so difficult.
Even though the moon lamp was ugly, he'd still feel sad if Johanna didn't like it.
“It's indeed not very pleasing to the eye,” Johanna replied honestly. “Didn't you say that this lamp was chosen by Asel? Even if
it's subpar, I'll keep it.”
Upon hearing that, Timothy silently apologized in his heart to his beloved daughter, who took the blame for him.
“There's a button behind the lamp. Turn it on, and it will play music.” Timothy had recorded her favorite song into the mechanism
of the moon lamp.
A few seconds later, Johanna, on the other end of the phone, said, “I see it. You should go to bed early.”
“All right. Goodnight.” After Johanna ended the call, Timothy put away his phone and drove out of the neighborhood.
Johanna spent her days engrossed in her work at the studio. Time flew by when she was focused. By the time she finished

painting a wall on the second floor, it was already Monday.
On Monday morning, she brought some formal attire and sewing tools to the studio. No sooner had she set down her things than
the phone rang.
“Jojo, why didn't you call me?”
Johanna found the man's voice filled with a hint of resentment amusing. “It's only nine o'clock. I just arrived at the studio. I was
planning to call you once I got everything ready.”
“Have you eaten?” Timothy asked. “I made aglio olio for Asel this morning, and there's still plenty left.”
Johanna wanted to say she had eaten but feared that it would only deepen his resentment. Pressing her lips together, she said,
“I haven't eaten, so why don't you bring the aglio olio to the studio and find me?”
“All right. I'll be there in a bit.”
In less than ten minutes, Timothy had already rushed over to his car.
Upon entering the shop, he noticed the oil painting on the left wall. It was a romantic depiction of a starry night, perfectly
complementing the shop's interior decor.