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My wife, who had always struggled with intimacy, attended my hundredth photography exhibition, where I showcased an art piece featuring myself in a close embrace with another woman. The two of us were prominently displayed, completely unfiltered. To my surprise, the inside of her thigh bore a tattoo identical to one of mine. Addressing the guests with assurance, I stated, "This is my first venture into bold, avant-garde art. I owe special gratitude to Emily Bell for her willingness to contribute so significantly to my exhibition." I added, "I hope we continue to collaborate frequently in the future." Watching them holding hands, I didn’t react with the anger I might have felt before. Quietly, I canceled the dinner reservation I had made for our anniversary. After feeling overlooked for four years, I didn't want to engage in this emotional back-and-forth anymore. A notification confirmed the cancellation on my phone. I took one last glance at the stage. Jonas still clung to Emily's hand, laughing and chatting with the guests. For someone who had a strong aversion to physical contact and couldn't even tolerate a gentle touch from his own wife, it was unsettling to see him break those boundaries with someone he'd