My husband cheated on me. And my dog was the one who helped me find out. … I have a dog named Ghost. One day, when Ethan came home, Ghost rushed up and started sniffing obsessively at Ethan’s coat, circling him again and again. I even laughed and said, "What's got you so worked up? Smell another dog on him?" Ethan just chuckled and told me I was imagining things. But then, for the next several days, Ghost did the same thing every time Ethan walked in. My gut told me. Something wasn't right. Even when I finally learned the truth, I couldn't believe it. He didn't just have one affair going on; he had multiple partners. One of them had even had his child aborted after getting pregnant. His reaction to all this? He wanted "peaceful coexistence." He even had the audacity to tell me: "I'm just doing what a lot of guys dream about doing. Lighten up, Rach. All men are like this." Yeah, right. If I let him get away with this, I’d be betraying every ounce of self-respect I have. … I married Ethan back then mostly because he was incredibly good-looking. You hear people say, find a handsome boyfriend, so even when you fight, looking at his face makes it harder to stay mad. That was honestly my thinking when I decided I wanted a guy like that. But I met a few guys, and none of them clicked. Then, a chance encounter brought me to Ethan. It was a company trade show. I was head of PR, overseeing our booth, making sure everything went smoothly with our partners. I’d been so busy I barely ate all day. My blood sugar crashed, and I started to sway. Suddenly, someone caught me, steadying me and pressing a piece of candy into my hand. "Skipped breakfast rushing here, huh? Have some sugar, take it easy." It was Ethan. I fell for him, right then and there. At the company dinner that night, he coincidentally ended up sitting next to me. "Eating something that spicy on an empty stomach will wreck you. You'll regret it tomorrow," he said, stopping my hand just as I was about to dive into the spicy Szechuan dish. Chatting after that felt completely natural. We talked a lot about work collaborations. He was articulate, and I really admired his perspectives on the industry. We exchanged numbers – well, added each other on social media. After that, he asked me out a few times. He was so thoughtful. He’d always make reservations, pull out my chair, specifically ask if I was feeling okay having cold drinks, and serve me food. He remembered everything I liked. When he started pursuing me seriously, it felt like a dream. Because I was five years older than him, and honestly, I was overweight. I asked him why he chose me. He looked at me intensely. "Love is just... one of those mysterious things. I just like you." "You don't think I'm fat?" He leaned in close, whispering so his warm breath tickled my ear, "Not at all. I love curvy girls. More to hold onto." Nobody can easily refuse a confession from a young, handsome guy like that. I certainly couldn't. I was completely swept off my feet. During our relationship, I definitely made my girlfriends jealous. But they all said Ethan seemed too good to be true. "No guy is that considerate. He knows exactly how to handle women, like he’s been trained." "Either he has a sister he totally dotes on, or he's got a ton of experience with women." "Bullshit! No way!" I argued with my friends. "He just loves me! That’s what love looks like! Besides, what could he possibly want from me? Aren't I the one who's lucky to have him and his good looks?" "Alright, alright. Fine. A girl drunk on love… whatever, sis, I’m not jealous!" My friends couldn't win the argument, so they let it go, muttering that we wouldn't last. But we did last. And even more, he was the one who proposed. Yes, on our one-year anniversary, he asked me to marry him. 2 It was Christmas Day. Snow was falling everywhere, looking like something out of a movie, when he got down on one knee. "Rachel, marry me." Maybe it was the beauty of the snow, but I couldn't resist. I threw myself into his arms, hugging his neck tightly. I saw my own reflection in his eyes. "Yes!" Ethan came from a rural part of Appalachia. His family had three boys, his father passed away early, and his mother raised them all on her own. It was clearly a tough upbringing. Me? I was from New York City, born and bred. My parents were business owners, I was an only child, and life had always been comfortable. My parents didn't approve of the marriage. But I was stubborn, head over heels in love. I cried, threw tantrums, pretended to go on a hunger strike – I pulled out every dramatic trick in the book. My mom eventually caved. My dad still wasn't happy. But he stopped actively trying to prevent it. … On February 14th, 2019 – Valentine’s Day – we got married. He hadn't been working long and couldn't afford a place in the city yet. I didn't care. I was overjoyed to marry him. On our wedding night, wrapped in his arms, he whispered promises in my ear. "Rachel, believe in me. I swear I'll give you a good life. I’ll make your parents proud." I hugged him tighter and nodded. "I believe you." I felt like I'd found the greatest happiness imaginable. Life after the wedding was good. I was basically waited on hand and foot. We rented a small apartment, about 600 square feet, one bedroom. We both worked hard on our careers, side-by-side. Our companies even collaborated, and I used every connection and resource I had to help him build his network quickly. He didn't disappoint. He climbed the ladder, getting promoted steadily, doing well at his company. His colleagues seemed to really like him. Ghost came into our lives because one of those colleagues was moving and couldn't take the dog. So, I took him in. 3 Ethan and I made a deal. Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, I'd walk the dog. Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, he would. Of course, most of the time, I ended up doing it. Because Ethan's job got more and more demanding. He got promoted again, which meant more overtime, often not getting home until after 10 PM. By then, Ghost was desperate to go out. Even if I had overtime, I could usually finish it at home. So I often got home on time, walked Ghost, and then logged back onto my computer to finish my work. I thought, we’re both working hard for our future, for a better life together. And so, life went on. Six months later, I found out I was pregnant. My mother came to visit when she heard the news. She took one look at our small rental and frowned. "You're living in a place this small? You can barely manage yourselves, and you got a dog?" I hugged her arm, trying to charm her. "Mom, it's just temporary! Bigger places are a pain to clean. A one-bedroom is perfect right now, isn't it?" "And the dog was just fate, we had to keep him." Mom sighed and poked my forehead gently. I knew, compared to my parents' house, this place was tiny. But Ethan and I were both still building our careers, and he was saving up for a down payment. We couldn't afford to rent anything much bigger. Even my dad started to soften up a bit. Parents always love their children, in the end. They bought me a condo outright. The day we got the keys, Ethan held me close, his voice low with emotion. "I'm sorry, Rach. I haven't worked hard enough. I couldn't buy you a place here myself." "Trust me, just give me three more years. I'll buy you an even bigger place." He held me tight and kissed me deeply. What’s that saying? "Women are auditory creatures; they're more easily moved by sweet words and promises than by silent actions." Of course, I didn't blame him. I hugged him back affectionately, comforting him, saying it had only been a year, we had time. "Besides," I added, "it's just the two of us now, soon to be three. What do we need a huge house for? It'd feel empty and spooky. I’d be scared." "Rachel, you're the best." He hugged me even tighter, kissing me repeatedly, full of tenderness. "Once the baby's born, you should stop working so hard. Let me take care of you." I sniffled, my eyes stinging. Let me take care of you... Such beautiful words. … After our daughter, Sophie, was born, despite really not wanting to, I had to put my career on hold. For the first year, there was just no way to work. The baby needed feeding every two or three hours during the day, and my body wasn't recovering particularly well. I simply didn't have the energy for anything beyond the baby. That's the reality of raising a child yourself, the reality of motherhood. And I didn't want to burden my parents. During this time, Ethan got promoted again, to a management position. His work and corporate entertaining got even more intense. He often came home smelling of alcohol. But he was still thoughtful towards me. He’d often bring home things I liked – sometimes cake, sometimes a bouquet of flowers. He’d hug me and say, "You're working so hard, honey." Just like before. Except, we rarely had time just for the two of us anymore. Occasionally, if the mood struck, it would inevitably be interrupted by the baby crying. After a while, he stopped initiating intimacy altogether. I never used to think being a stay-at-home mom was that difficult. But once I was actually in that position, I realized how incredibly hard it is. Every single day, I was exhausted. Not just physically tired, but mentally drained too. There were endless little things, from morning till night, revolving around the baby. And then there was Ghost, constantly needing attention. Not taking him out was impossible. If I didn't take him out, he’d chew the furniture and bark nonstop. So I started asking Ethan to help walk Ghost. He’d agree, but then immediately say he needed to research some stocks and disappear into the bedroom with his laptop. This went on for months, leaving me completely worn out. Until one day, all my pent-up frustration finally exploded. 4 That day, I specifically reminded Ethan to walk the dog. He casually agreed before I went to put Sophie down for her nap. Just as I got her settled and came out, I saw that Ghost had knocked over the kitchen trash can. Garbage – nasty bits of everything – was strewn all over the floor. He’d unrolled the toilet paper from the bathroom, trailing a long white ribbon all the way into the living room. The sofa cushions were pulled onto the floor, and Ghost, having stepped in water in the bathroom, had left muddy paw prints all over the white cushions. The cushions I had just washed yesterday! "Ethan!!!" Furious, I grabbed the dirty cushion and stormed into the bedroom. The computer screen he claimed he was using to "check the market" was displaying a video game. That night was chaos. In the heat of the argument, I yanked the plug from the wall. I don't even remember everything I yelled. Finally, Ethan stormed out, face dark with anger, and walked the dog. He didn't come back until almost midnight. I was already asleep. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. When Ethan came home that evening, he brought me my favorite little cake, just like usual. Everything seemed back to normal. Except for Ghost. Starting that day, he seemed less insistent on going out constantly. When I was tending to Sophie, he’d curl up beside her, his round eyes watching the soft, white little bundle. "Ghost, this is Sophie. She's your little owner now. You have to protect her, understand?" "Woof~" I have no idea if he understood, but I chose to believe he did. And so, the days passed. I treated Ghost better and better, doing my best for him. His food got more expensive, and every day I took the baby and the dog out for a walk together. Ghost bypassed Ethan entirely and became my dearest companion.
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