My husband is a decorated undercover cop. To take down a drug cartel and save a hostage, he was tortured by drug dealers for a whole month. After being rescued, not only was his body covered in scars, but he also suffered from severe sexual dysfunction. The doctor said it was psychological trauma and couldn't be forced. My heart ached for him. For three years, I didn't even dare to breathe too loudly while sleeping, terrified of disturbing his fragile nerves. I not only spent all my savings treating his illness but also paid for the schooling of the poor girl he rescued. On the day of the police commendation ceremony, an unreleased surveillance video was mistakenly broadcasted on the big screen. In the video, the man who was always so timid and subservient with me was pressing that same girl onto a desk, venting wildly. His mouth was full of filthy words, his movements as fierce as a wild beast. He hastily covered my eyes. "Don't look! It was just an act to gain the drug lord's trust!" "Tech team! Who played that video! Turn it off immediately!" Captain Vance's roar exploded in the auditorium. The blinding white light vanished from the big screen, and the entire auditorium plunged into a dead, silent darkness. I sat frozen in my seat, my hands and feet ice-cold. The hand covering my eyes carried the familiar smell of tobacco. But it was this very hand that, just moments ago on the screen, was tightly grabbing another girl's hair. "Chloe, don't look." Arthur's voice was in my ear, as steady as ever, yet with an imperceptible tightness. I didn't move, nor did I speak. My fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of my shirt, twisting the soft fabric into a hard knot. It's a small habit of mine when I'm nervous. The lights flipped back on with a snap, stinging my eyes. The gazes of the surrounding colleagues, family members, and everyone else focused on me like spotlights. Sympathy, curiosity, disdain, schadenfreude. Arthur let go, his face a bit pale under the lights, but his eyes remained steady. He took off his crisp police uniform jacket and draped it over my shoulders, covering my slightly trembling frame. "A misunderstanding. Just a special interrogation tactic." He explained to the people around us. His voice wasn't loud, but it was enough for the first few rows to hear clearly. "Everyone, please continue. Don't let this minor hiccup affect the commendation ceremony." His tone was calm, as if the footage on the screen, which rivaled a pornographic film, was truly just an inconsequential work recording. Captain Vance quickly walked over, apologetic and concerned. "Chloe, are you okay? Those kids in the tech team messing around, I'll deal with them later!" The way he looked at me was purely an elder's heartache for a younger generation. For three years, the entire police force knew about Arthur's illness. They also knew that I had quit my job to take care of him, never leaving his side. In their eyes, I was a great, forbearing, selflessly devoted police wife. But now, this greatness had become a massive joke. "I'm fine, Captain Vance." I spoke, my voice dry. Arthur put his arm around my shoulders, his grip heavy, carrying an unquestionable dominance. "I'll take her back to rest first." He didn't give anyone a chance to ask more questions. Passing through countless complex gazes, he left the auditorium. The cold wind blew down the corridor, and I shivered. He didn't let go of me until we got into the car. The space inside the car was cramped. The scent on him, a mix of sweat and wildness, smelled incredibly disgusting to me right now. I turned my head to look out the window, my stomach churning. "It was fake." He started the car and finally spoke. "What was fake?" "What happened in the video. It was an act for the drug dealers, to gain their trust." His explanation was exactly what I expected: calm, rational, and flawless. "That girl, Mia. She was in too deep at the time. Without some special tactics, she wouldn't have talked." "I thought this kind of footage had been destroyed long ago. I didn't expect the tech team to make a mistake." He drove, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. "I know it's hard for you to accept, but that's my job." "Chloe, you have to understand me." Understand. Those two words again. For three years, I understood the trauma left by his failed mission, understood his sexual dysfunction, understood all his sensitivity and fragility. I took care of him like a fragile porcelain doll. But I couldn't understand how he could, without changing his expression, engage in passionate intercourse with another woman on a desk. Yet in front of me, touching me was like torture. The car stopped downstairs. I didn't move. Arthur unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over. His face was very close to mine. Those eyes that once made me drown were now full of exhaustion and a complex emotion I couldn't read. "Stop throwing a tantrum, okay?" His voice was very soft, carrying a coaxing tone. "Mia is still upstairs waiting for us. She was terrified today." That sentence was like a basin of ice water poured over my head. I snapped my head around, staring at him intently. "Why is she in our house?" 2 Arthur frowned, a flash of impatience in his eyes. "She's scared to live alone. She just moved in a few days ago." "I thought I told you." He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if this wasn't my home, but just a hotel where he could take anyone in at will. I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. He hadn't told me. He hadn't said a thing. I pushed open the car door and stumbled upstairs. I inserted the key into the lock, having to turn it several times before it clicked. The moment the door opened, a waft of unfamiliar perfume hit my face. In the entryway, there was a pair of pink high heels that didn't belong to me. On the living room sofa, a woman's jacket was thrown casually. On the coffee table, half-eaten snacks and a fashion magazine. Everything here was declaring the presence of another mistress of the house. Mia walked out of the master bedroom, wearing my pajamas. It was a silk set I had gritted my teeth to buy for my birthday, but had never borne to wear. Now, it hung loosely on Mia's slender frame. The neckline was open wide, revealing a large expanse of suggestive red marks. "Arthur, Chloe, you're back?" Seeing us, she wore the panicked expression of a frightened rabbit, subconsciously pulling her collar together. "I'm sorry, Chloe, your pajamas... My clothes were all being washed, and Arthur told me to wear yours for now." She looked at me timidly, her eyes watery, as if I were the villain who had taken over the nest. Arthur walked in and naturally took the water glass from Mia's hand, taking a sip. "You were scared, right? It's okay now." He patted Mia's head, his movements intimate and natural. That kind of gentleness I had only seen when he first returned from the mission, when his mind was at its most fragile. "I'll go make dinner." I dropped those words and fled into the kitchen. The cold water washed over my hands, but I couldn't feel the chill. My body felt like ignited cotton, burning from the inside out. I could hear them talking in low voices in the living room. "Arthur, is Chloe mad? It's all my fault." Mia's voice was tinged with crying. "Don't overthink it, she just hasn't wrapped her head around it yet." Arthur's voice was deep. "You had a scare today, go back to your room and rest early." "But I'm scared. Every time I close my eyes, I see the images from the surveillance." "Then I'll stay with you for a while." The door was gently closed. I turned off the faucet and leaned against the cold counter, trembling all over. So, it wasn't that he couldn't do it. He just couldn't do it with me. For dinner, I made three dishes and a soup, all Arthur's favorites. At the dining table, for the first time, I didn't serve him food as usual. The atmosphere was terrifyingly oppressive. Mia kept her head down, taking tiny bites of rice, her eyes red. Arthur didn't look good either; he put down his chopsticks after a few bites. "I'm full." He stood up, pulled a stack of cash from his wallet, and put it on the table. "Living expenses for this month. Tell me if it's not enough." I looked at the stack of crisp, red bills and found it incredibly glaring. When did our relationship become reduced to just this? "Are Mia's tuition and rent coming out of this too?" I asked, driven by some inexplicable impulse. Arthur paused, turned to look at me, his eyes turning cold. "She's a girl, alone and helpless. It's only right that I help her out." "Chloe, I didn't think you were this petty." Petty? I spent all our savings to treat his so-called "illness." I sold the jewelry my mother left me to pay for the schooling of this "poor" girl he talked about. And in the end, all I get is being called petty. My heart felt like it was gripped by an invisible hand, hurting so much I could barely breathe. "Yes, I am petty." I looked up, meeting his gaze. "Arthur, tell her to move out." "This is our home." Mia's chopsticks clattered to the floor. She shrank her shoulders in fear and burst into tears. Arthur's face darkened completely. He didn't look at me, but walked over to Mia and bent down to pick up the chopsticks. "Don't be scared." He pulled Mia up and shielded her behind him, as if facing some heinous enemy. "Chloe, have you thrown enough of a tantrum?" 3 Watching him protect another woman, I laughed out loud, but the tears fell disobediently. "Arthur, who exactly is throwing a tantrum?" "These past three years, I've lived like a ghost for you." "I didn't dare speak loudly, didn't dare turn on the light to sleep, afraid of disturbing your fragile nerves." "I treated you as my sky, my everything, and what about you?" "You're out there sleeping with another woman, and then come home and tell me it was for work!" "How can you expect me to believe that? How can you expect me to understand?" My voice grew louder and louder, almost turning into a scream. Three years of accumulated grievances and pain exploded at this moment. Mia trembled even more violently behind him, crying and saying: "Chloe, don't blame Arthur, it's all my fault. If it wasn't to save me, he wouldn't have..." "Shut up!" Arthur suddenly growled, cutting Mia off. The chill in his eyes almost froze me. "Chloe, do you think I'm lying to you?" I bit my lip and didn't speak, but the distrust in my eyes said it all. He suddenly laughed, a laugh full of self-deprecation and endless exhaustion. "Fine, since you don't believe me, I'll show you the proof." He took out his phone, his fingers tapping rapidly on the screen, then threw the phone in front of me. On the screen was a hospital diagnosis report. Severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, accompanied by severe physiological dysfunction. The black and white text stung my eyes. Below it were a few video clips, recordings of his hypnotherapy sessions with the psychiatrist. In the video, he was curled up in a ball on the sofa like a helpless child, covered in cold sweat, muttering things I couldn't understand. That was the most fragile side of Arthur I had never seen. "See?" His voice was terribly hoarse. "The doctor said my trauma stems from that month of torture. I have an instinctive resistance and fear of all intimate contact." "The reason what happened with Mia was an exception..." He paused, seeming to search for the right words. "The doctor analyzed that it might be because she and I went through the same hell. My subconscious viewed her as safe, so it lowered its defense mechanisms." "This is a pathological reaction, not a betrayal." His explanation sounded flawless, even carrying a scientific rigor. So, I wasn't his exception. I was the unsafe factor being excluded. "So, I'm the cause of your illness, right?" I muttered to myself. Arthur didn't seem to expect me to say that and froze. He came over, wanting to hug me, but I took a sharp step back. His outstretched hand froze in mid-air, his expression complex. "Chloe, it's not what you think." "I love you, I just want to live a good life with you." "Give me some time, okay? I'll cure myself." His voice was very light, carrying a hint of pleading. I felt like I was going crazy. That night, for the first time, Arthur didn't sleep in the study. He lay beside me, his body stiff, but our hearts were separated by an unbridgeable chasm. 4 The next morning, when I woke up, Arthur was already gone. In a daze, I packed a few clothes and stuffed them into a suitcase. I needed to get out of here and clear my head. I sent Arthur a message, telling him I was going to stay at my mom's for a few days. He didn't reply. Dragging my suitcase downstairs, at the entrance of our complex, I saw Arthur's car parked not far away. He hadn't left. An indescribable feeling flashed through my heart. Pulling my suitcase, I walked step by step towards his car. The window rolled down, but the face revealed wasn't Arthur's. It was Captain Vance. "Chloe, where are you going?" Captain Vance's expression was very serious. "I... I'm going home to stay for a few days." Captain Vance sighed and opened the car door. "Get in, let's talk." The car didn't head towards my parents' house, but drove in circles along the city's most congested main road. "Arthur, that kid, he's got a stubborn and foul temper." Captain Vance said as he drove. "I know you've been wronged, but you also know what he went through these past three years." "That month, it wasn't a life fit for a human. If it were me, I might have gone crazy long ago." I kept my head down, my fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of my shirt again. I had heard these words countless times. "I know." "Not only do you know, but you've done very well." Captain Vance glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Everyone in the squad says Arthur must have accumulated karma for eight lifetimes to marry such a good wife like you." "But Chloe, some things can't be solved just by being 'good'." My heart seized. "Captain Vance, do you know something?" Captain Vance was silent for a long time, so long I thought he wouldn't speak again. He parked the car by the river, lit a cigarette. Took a hard drag. "About Mia... Arthur didn't tell you the whole truth." My stomach lurched, and a wave of nausea washed over me. This physical reaction was even faster than my brain. I didn't expect that his next words would completely push me into the abyss. 5 "Mia isn't just some ordinary hostage." "She's the god-sister of the drug cartel boss." My brain buzzed, going completely blank. "What did you say?" "On that mission, Arthur's objective was to take down the entire drug ring." "Mia grew up in that environment and obeyed her brother completely. It took Arthur a long time to make her waver." "Later, when things were exposed, her brother wanted to clean house. Arthur got captured trying to protect her." "So, he wasn't tortured because he was trying to save a hostage. He was protecting Mia?" I felt my voice shaking. "You could say that." "Then, what about that video?" "It's fake." Captain Vance blew a smoke ring, the smoke blurring his face. "Arthur had the squad make a fake video to get the final piece of evidence." "The squad unified the story to protect his reputation and to give Mia a chance at a fresh start." My marriage, my love, everything I had given over the past three years, was built on a massive lie. "Why... why are you telling me this?" It took all my strength to ask that question. Captain Vance crushed his cigarette, his eyes full of struggle and pity. "Because Arthur, that kid, is in too deep." "To him, Mia isn't just a mission anymore." The air in the car seemed to freeze. Better a short pain than a long one. How easy it is to say. Three years of my youth, my wholehearted devotion, the love I thought was unbreakable—it turns out it was a joke from the very beginning. I don't even know how I got out of the car, or how I returned to that so-called home. Pushing open the door, the house was empty. Mia wasn't there, and Arthur wasn't there. That's good. I needed space alone to digest the truth. I lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. My eyes ached with dryness, but I couldn't shed a single tear. My phone vibrated. It was a multimedia message from an unknown number. A photo. In the photo, Arthur and Mia were sitting in a luxuriously decorated Western restaurant, making a wish in front of candles. Mia wore a birthday crown on her head, smiling brightly and sweetly. Arthur's eyes held a gentleness and doting that I had never seen before. Below the photo was a line of text: Chloe, Arthur is celebrating my birthday, we'll be back late. He was afraid you'd overthink it and told me not to tell you. My fingers began to tremble uncontrollably. I dialed Arthur's number. It rang for a long time before being answered. "Hello?" His voice was a bit impatient. "Where are you?" My voice was terrifyingly calm. "In a meeting at the station, what's wrong?" He lied without batting an eye. "Arthur, come back immediately." "I said I'm in a meeting. Stop being unreasonable." "I'm telling you to come back!" I finally lost control and screamed. The other end was silent for a few seconds, and then came Mia's timid voice: "Arthur, is it Chloe... you should go back, I'm fine." Beep beep beep... The call was hung up. I smashed my phone hard onto the floor, the screen instantly shattering into pieces. I rushed into the bedroom, pulled open the wardrobe, and threw out Mia's eyesore clothes one by one. Dresses, underwear, stockings... The door crashed open with a bang. Arthur rushed in, saw the mess on the floor, and his face instantly darkened. "Chloe, what kind of crazy fit are you throwing now?" He grabbed my wrist with a force that almost crushed my bones. "Me? Crazy?" I shook off his hand, pointing at the clothes on the floor, yelling hysterically: "Arthur, you tell me, what are these?" "You bring her home, she sleeps in my bed, wears my pajamas, and now you lie to me saying you're in a meeting while you run off to celebrate her birthday!" "What exactly do you take me for?" A flash of panic appeared in Arthur's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by an icy calm. "I just felt sorry for her, having her birthday alone..." "Sorry for her?" I sneered. "She's the sister of a drug dealer. She almost got you killed, and you feel sorry for her?" "Arthur, stop lying to me! Captain Vance told me everything!" "The so-called rescue was fake, and your love for me is fake too!" Arthur's body stiffened violently, his eyes filled with disbelief. He stared at me dead on. "He told you?" "Yes." The air was dead silent. After a long time, he suddenly laughed. That laugh no longer held any exhaustion or pretense, only a reckless indifference. "Fine, since you know everything, I have nothing to hide." He walked up to me, looking down at me from above. "That's right, it was all fake." "What I feel for Mia isn't a mission, and it isn't pity."
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