Chapter 1
It was the tenth year of our marriage.
And it had been five years since Henry Mason started feeling physically repulsed by me.
On my birthday, even though I knew he hated it, I still tried to kiss him on the cheek.
This time, he didn't flinch.
And then he threw up.
Somewhere along the way, it felt like all that was left between us were the kids and our parents.
I kept telling myself that even though Henry was a genius physicist, he still got tired. Everyone had their limits, and he was just another overworked guy.
But today, when I leaned in for a kiss, he threw up.
Right then, I couldn't make excuses for him anymore.
After a long while, Henry finally looked up, a bit embarrassed, and offered everyone an awkward excuse. "Uh, my stomach's been acting up lately. You guys go ahead and have fun. I've got work piling up, so I'll head back and work overtime."
Before leaving, he put his arm around my waist and flashed me a quick smile. "Happy birthday, honey."
I held back my trembling and pretended everything was fine.
After the party, I went to his university lab late at night.
Through the door, I could hear Henry's breath, mechanical and relentless like a motor, along with a woman's playful, teasing voice.
"Professor Mason, you really know how to keep things separate; she gets all the proper stuff, and I get all the dirty fun."
The rough breathing, the low moans, the climax, it stabbed at my eardrums like knives.
I calmly pulled out my phone and turned on the camera.
It wasn't until the room had been silent for a long time that I finally knocked on the door.
*****
Henry walked out, saw me, and was calm. Nothing showed on his face.
Not even a flicker of embarrassment or guilt for being caught in the act.
It felt like this was always meant to happen.
He glanced at me with those clear, emotionless eyes and said slowly, "We'll talk at home."
He shot me a look, expecting me to follow.
I stayed put.
For the past ten years, he'd always been the one calling the shots, from confessing his feelings, to dating, proposing, having kids, and even when we started sleeping in separate beds.
Now, even after getting caught cheating, he still wanted to be the one in charge of the conversation.
It hit me then; why did he always have to be the one calling the shots?
Why did I always have to do what he said?
"Olivia?" For once, he called my name softly, but his eyes were fixed on the slightly open door to the lab.
I forced myself to keep it together, managing a polite smile. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"
Only then did he finally look at me, with a hint of detachment and forced politeness in his eyes.
"You don't need to bother with her," he said.
Before I could respond, his tone suddenly sharpened. "If you can't even hide right, then get out of here!"
The girl poked her head out, rushed past me, and nearly stumbled as she left.
Henry watched her walk away, and he couldn't help but smile.
In that instant, I felt numb, pain radiating through every inch of me.
Just one look, and I knew.
He had feelings for her.
Just like he once had feelings for me.
Back then, my dad brought his grad students over for dinner. As I was serving the dishes, I burned my hand on a hot plate and instinctively reached for my ear, rubbing it over and over.
Henry watched me, and a smile unconsciously tugged at his lips.
After that, every time we met, no matter how many people were around, his gaze always found me, and whenever our eyes met, he'd smile just for me.
On our wedding day, he smiled at me in exactly the same way.
But as he kept smiling, tears eventually spilled over.
He said, "This is what happens when you finally marry the one you truly want."
Maybe those memories were just too bright, too beautiful to forget.
That was why I could never really believe we'd come to this.
I was always hoping, always wishing we could go back to how things used to be.
Honestly, this scene had replayed in my mind again and again, and every time, it hurt so bad I felt like I couldn't breathe.
That was why I never dared to visit his lab late at night. I was terrified of actually seeing it for myself.
But now that I finally saw it with my own eyes, I was so numb, I couldn't even cry.
"You like her."
I said it calmly.
It wasn't a question. It was a statement.
Henry stiffened, avoiding my gaze.
I managed a slight, almost indifferent smile and stood up to leave.
This time, I walked ahead of him, leaving him behind, letting him see only my back. I didn't wait. I went home before him.
I watched as he came in, washed his hands, and quietly slipped into our daughter's room, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.
That was always been his way.
Coming home, the first thing he'd always do was check on our daughter.
As I watched him smile at her, my chest tightened unexpectedly, pain stabbing through me for reasons I couldn't explain.
He saw me sitting in the living room and came over to sit across from me.
His gaze darkened as he pushed up his glasses, making his expression impossible to read.
"I'm sorry you had to see that today," he said.
When I stayed silent, he paused and reached for my hand.
"Don't make trouble for her. I'll cut things off with her," he begged.
I nodded, gently withdrew my hand.
I slid the laptop in front of him. "This is the divorce agreement. Go ahead and sign it."