I was meeting a client for a business lunch when I saw my wife, Lily, sitting at the table next to us. With her lover. Right there, in front of me, he was all over her, whispering in her ear while she laughed. They must have expected a scene, an explosion of rage. Instead, I just looked at them, my voice calm. "As soon as the divorce is final, you two can get married." I decided to set her free. And that’s when she started to regret everything. 1 It was our anniversary. I’d left work early to surprise Lily, waiting for her outside her office building. When she walked out, her face was a mask of surprise, then annoyance. "What are you doing here? I told you I was busy tonight." "But it's our anniversary," I said, opening the passenger door. "I booked a table at our favorite place. I even got you a present…" She didn't even glance at the gift box on the seat. Her eyes were fixed on me, her voice sharp with impatience. "I don't have time. I have a networking event, it's really important. Just go home." I picked up the box and held it out to her. "You can at least take the gift, can't you?" It was a bracelet we’d seen in a luxury jewelry store on our honeymoon, a delicate gold band set with twelve diamonds. She had fallen in love with it. I never forgot. I’d been putting money aside for months, just for this moment. I could practically see her reaction—the squeal of delight, her arms thrown around my neck, covering my face in kisses. Instead, she took the box without looking at it and tossed it back into the car. "It’s not a big deal. I’ll look at it when I get home." Without another glance at me, she turned and scanned the street, as if looking for someone. Just as I was about to ask who, her phone buzzed. A slow smile spread across her lips. She quickly pulled her phone from her purse, shoving the bag into my hands. "Here, hold this for me." Then she walked over to a quiet corner before answering the call. I watched the radiant smile on her face from a distance, and a sharp, needle-like pain pierced my chest. We’d been together since college, married for five years. Who was on the other end of that line that she had to hide from me? I tore my eyes away from her and zipped up her purse. As I did, my gaze fell on two slips of paper in an outer pocket. I pulled them out. They were tickets to the Azure Springs Resort. The date on them was for last weekend. The confusion sharpened into a cold knot in my stomach. Last weekend, she told me she had to work, to rush a project for a deadline. I’d been the one who told her about Azure Springs, how it was the new hot spot everyone was talking about. We’d been so busy with work for years, we’d barely traveled since our honeymoon. I wanted to take her. I’d cleared my schedule, booked a villa, planned the entire romantic getaway. Then, on Friday, she’d cancelled. Her boss had supposedly sent her on a last-minute business trip. I was disappointed, but I understood. Work was work. But here were the tickets, tucked away in her purse. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a notification from my credit card—the one I’d given her to use. I usually ignored them, but this time, I opened it. There it was: a charge from last Saturday. A couple's villa at Azure Springs Resort. The total was $5,800. So, she wasn't working. She had gone to the resort. Just not with me. My hand tightened around my phone. I found the number for the resort's concierge and, after a bit of persuasion, I got the information on the booking. Of course. It was Ryan. A bitter sense of recognition washed over me. Maybe I should have seen it coming all along. It started with the unanswered calls when she was "on business trips." The nights she didn't come home. The way she'd sneak away to take calls… I had chosen to trust her. She had chosen to betray me. 2 Ryan went to the same university as us. He was one of those guys—effortlessly handsome, with a bright, sunny disposition that made him popular the second he stepped on campus. I first learned his name at the annual track and field meet. He was running the 3000-meter race, and a flock of girls was screaming his name from the sidelines. He didn't disappoint, taking first place with ease. I remember seeing Lily, her eyes glued to him, completely captivated. I was a year ahead of Ryan, so our paths rarely crossed, and I didn't think much of it at the time. The next time I saw him was years later, at one of Lily's company parties. I’d gone to pick her up, and he was right there beside her. She was drunk, and his arm was wrapped securely around her waist as they waited by the curb. I walked up and took Lily from his grasp. I thanked him for looking after her, but my tone was clipped. What husband would be happy seeing another man holding his wife like that? Lily, who had seemed barely conscious a moment before, suddenly sobered up. She turned on me, her voice sharp. "What is your problem? Ryan was just helping me stand. Why do you have to be so petty? Always thinking the worst of people." After that night, the secret phone calls became more frequent. She’d take them on the balcony or lock herself in the bathroom, but never in front of me. Back in the present, standing outside her office, it wasn't long after Lily ended her call that Ryan pulled up. He was wearing a stylish polo shirt and light-colored trousers, looking every bit the campus golden boy he used to be. Lily's face lit up as she hurried to his car. Standing there together, him handsome and charming, her beautiful and delicate, they looked like a perfect match. "Lily, sorry to keep you waiting," he said, before his eyes landed on me. "Leo! You're here too." It finally clicked. He was the one she was waiting for. Lily must have seen the look on my face. She rushed to explain, "Don't get the wrong idea. Ryan and I just have some work stuff to discuss." I fought down the urge to punch him. "Right," I said, a cold smile on my face. "Well, don't let me keep you." I got in my car and drove off. I only made it to the next intersection before I had to pull over. I slammed my hands on the steering wheel, my head dropping forward, and I just screamed. All the anger, the pain, the betrayal—it all came pouring out in one raw, guttural roar. For years, I had given Lily everything. I was at her beck and call, worshiping the ground she walked on. She had been the campus beauty, and I always felt she had settled for me, that I was lucky to have her. I was terrified of falling short. Whatever she wanted, whatever she liked, if I could get it for her, I would. I shielded her from every problem, shouldered every burden, just so she wouldn't have to face a moment of hardship. She said cooking fumes were bad for her skin, so I made every meal. She said washing dishes would ruin her hands, so I did all the cleaning. She said mopping hurt her back, so I took care of all the housework. The toilet had a faint smell, so I scrubbed it three times a day to make sure our bathroom was always fresh. My endless devotion had turned into boundless indulgence. She stopped seeing me as a partner and started seeing me as a doormat. She’d call me pathetic, weak. She’d lash out, insult me, and I’d just take it. I told myself it was the stress from her job. I’d apologize and comfort her. I’d blame myself for not being successful enough, for not giving her the life she deserved. Even my friends told me I was putting her on a pedestal, that my groveling was making her treat me with contempt. I defended her every time. Now, sitting in my car, shaking with rage, I knew. My friends were right all along. 3 The clock on the living room wall ticked past midnight. I sat there in the dark, watching the hands go around, and around, and around. On the coffee table was the anniversary cake I had baked myself. She wasn't coming home tonight. I knew it. I opened the red gift box. Inside, the diamond bracelet I had waited months for glittered under the faint moonlight. I stood up, picked up the cake and the box, and smashed them both on the floor. If the person I was celebrating with wasn't here, none of it had any meaning. Ping. My phone lit up. It was a message from Ryan. A photo. On the table was a spread of intensely flavored food—spicy crawfish, fried calamari, and right in the center, a steaming durian hotpot. The person across from him was mostly out of frame, but I could see a hand, elegantly holding a wine glass. I knew that hand. It was Lily's. When we first started dating, she made it very clear that she had a delicate palate. She couldn't stand anything with a strong smell or flavor, and she forbade me from eating it, too. "I'm telling you, my system is sensitive," she had said. "I can't eat or even smell that kind of stuff. If you want to be with me, you can't eat it either. Got it?" I loved her, so I accepted everything about her. "Okay," I promised. "For you, Lily, I swear I won't eat durian, or shellfish, or anything with a strong smell." For years, I cooked bland, simple meals. I never touched any of my old favorite foods. I even stopped going to the beach, because she hated the fishy smell of the ocean. I remember one time, my neighbor, who was eating durian, bumped into me by accident, smearing some on my shirt. I had a client meeting, so I rushed home to change. When Lily saw the stain, she wrinkled her nose in disgust, backing away from me. "What is that horrible smell on you?" "The neighbor just spilled something on me," I explained, taking off my shoes. She exploded. "Didn't I tell you I can't stand that smell? And you brought it into the house? Now the whole place stinks! Get out, go change outside!" I tried to explain what happened, thinking she might show a little sympathy. But she didn't care. She just kept yelling. "Why did you even come home? You know I can't handle it! How can you be so stupid?" I changed my shirt, rushing to get to my meeting, but she blocked the door. "Where do you think you're going? You need to wash that shirt right now. And don't you dare put it in the washing machine, it'll make all my clothes stink. Hand wash it. Now." I had no choice. I washed the shirt, and by the time I got to my meeting, the client thought I was disrespecting his time and cancelled our contract. That night, when I tried to get into bed, she kicked me out of the bedroom. "You're not sleeping in here," she snapped, pointing to the study. "Go sleep in there. You've made me feel sick all day." After that, I avoided strong-smelling foods like the plague. And now, here was this photo. Lily, who acted like a single whiff of durian was a personal attack, was happily digging into a durian hotpot. It turned out her aversion wasn't to the food. It was to me. With me, it was disgusting. With Ryan, it was a delicacy to be shared. My years of sacrifice were nothing but a joke. Ryan’s photo was a slap in the face, a brutal confirmation of how pathetic and foolish I had been. 4 Lily finally stumbled through the door in the early hours of the morning, reeking of alcohol. She looked up and saw me sitting in the living room. "Why are you still awake?" I looked back at her, my heart a placid lake. "Lily," I said. "Let's get a divorce." Her drunken mind couldn't process it. "What?" I repeated myself, my voice low and steady. "Let's get a divorce." She shook her head, trying to clear the fog. A look of panic crossed her face. "What kind of joke is this?" I was done. I was so tired of this life. "I know about you and Ryan," I said, my words deliberate. "I know you're even willing to suffer through a durian hotpot just to be with him. Since that's what you want, I'll give it to you. I'll set you free." "What are you talking about?" she said, her voice frantic. I pulled out my phone and showed her the picture. Her face paled. "It's not what it looks like!" she stammered. "Ryan is a client! A really important one! I had to go with him to land the contract, that's all!" "Stop lying," I cut her off, my eyes locking onto hers. "You couldn't discuss a contract over coffee? You, who claims you can't even smell strong food, can suddenly eat durian with him?" My questions were like cannonballs, demolishing what little composure she had left. She became hysterical. "You're accusing me? Everything I do is for us, for our home! I work my ass off to give us a better life! It was just dinner! Why are you making such a big deal out of it? There's nothing going on between me and Ryan! Are you just trying to start a fight?" The audacity, to turn it all back on me. It was like I was seeing her for the first time. I didn't want to argue anymore. I dropped the final bomb. "Then what about the two tickets to the resort in your purse? Weren't you on a business trip last weekend? What kind of business trip involves booking a couple's villa? How long are you going to keep lying to me, Lily?" Her face went ashen. She stared at me in disbelief, stumbling backward until she collapsed onto the floor. "That's impossible," she muttered. "I was so careful... how could you know?" "You can't hide a fire by covering it with paper," I said coldly. The rage had subsided, replaced by an icy calm. "The evidence is right there. What else do you have to say?" Suddenly, she scrambled across the floor, kneeling at my feet. "Leo, I was wrong! I know I was wrong! Please, don't say that. Don't leave me." Her voice was a desperate sob. "I'll never talk to him again. As soon as this project is over, I'll delete him, I swear. We can start over." "I'll go on vacation with you," she pleaded, tears streaming down her face. "We can stay in a couple's villa, we can go anywhere you want. Just don't divorce me, please?" She was a mess of tears and promises. Normally, this would have been enough. The second she cried, I would have folded, forgiven her for anything. But not anymore. I was tired. I pried her fingers from my pant leg, picked up the suitcase I had already packed, and walked to the door. I glanced back to see her crumpled on the floor, her body shaking with sobs. "Lily, my lawyer will draft the divorce papers and send them to you. From now on, you can communicate with him directly." The meaning was clear: I never wanted to speak to her again. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with despair. "Leo," she choked out. "Are you really going to be this cruel?" I paused for a half-second, then walked out the door without looking back. All the love I had for her, all the devotion I had given over the years—it had all been burned away by her betrayal. There was nothing left to say. Did she love me? No. I think she was just terrified of losing the fool who had served her for so long. In our relationship, I was always the one giving, the one compromising, while she happily took my money, my love, and my effort for granted. Now, I was done compromising. I was done giving. She wasn't worth it. 5 "Dude, I'm so sorry. I told you she was no good, but you wouldn't listen. Poured your whole heart out for her," my best friend, Mark, said, shaking his head. "Well, screw it. Let's drink to this. To your freedom, man!" "No one's holding you back now," he grinned, gesturing to the feast in front of us. "Eat whatever you want. It's on me." To celebrate my newly single status, Mark had taken me to a famous barbecue joint. He'd ordered a mountain of spicy grilled lamb, garlic shrimp, and every kind of shellfish imaginable. I raised my beer and clinked his glass. "Thanks, man." We sat there, drinking beer and eating skewers, and for the first time in a long time, I felt completely relaxed. In all the years I was with Lily, she never let me go out at night. She claimed she was afraid I'd cheat and bring some disease home to her. I'd promise her it was just a few beers with friends, but she’d fight me on it every time until I just gave up. I’d rush home straight from work every evening, not daring to be a minute late. The double standard was incredible. She forbade me from going out, yet she frequently stayed out all night, coming home smelling of cheap wine. If I ever dared to ask where she'd been, she would fly into a rage, accusing me of not trusting her. So I stopped asking. I just let her do whatever she wanted. Looking back, I had let her walk all over me. "Hey, look!" Mark suddenly exclaimed, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Isn't that Lily and her boy toy?" I turned my head and my eyes met hers. Lily looked away, flustered. Ryan, however, just gave her hand a reassuring pat and then, unbelievably, led her right over to our table. "Leo, fancy seeing you here," he said with a smug grin. "I heard you and Lily are getting a divorce. Don't tell me it's because of me? Lily and I are just friends. You're being a little paranoid, don't you think? Starting fights over nothing." "You son of a bitch, you've got some nerve saying that!" Mark exploded, ready to jump over the table and throttle him. I grabbed his arm and held him back. My gaze flickered down to where Ryan's hand was still holding Lily's. She snatched her hand away as if she'd been burned. "Leo," she stammered, her eyes welling up with tears. "How did you... I tried calling you, but you didn't answer. Are you still mad at me?" It was her classic move. The damsel in distress. Any other time, I would have immediately surrendered and started comforting her. Now, all I felt was disgust. "If you have questions, talk to my lawyer. He's handling everything." Ryan stepped in again. "Come on, Leo. Lily is still your wife. You're going to be that cold to her? Women are meant to be cherished." He then pulled Lily to the table right next to ours. He ordered a whole new spread of food and then, right in front of me, he expertly peeled a large shrimp and held it up to Lily's mouth. The gesture was so casual, so practiced, it was clear he’d done it a hundred times before. Lily glanced at me, watching for a reaction. When she saw my face was completely blank, she deliberately leaned in and ate the shrimp from his fingers, her eyes still on me. But I didn't care anymore. How could I be jealous of something I no longer wanted? Before, an act like this would have sent me into a spiral of jealous rage. I would have demanded to know what was going on between them. And she would have said the same thing she always did. "It's for work, can't you be more supportive?" "Leo, we're just having a meal, why do you have to be so possessive? He's just a client. If you mess this up for me, I'll divorce you." I'd heard it all before. I would grit my teeth and endure it, watching her be chummy with her "clients," unable to say a word. Ryan looked at me with open provocation. "Leo, Lily and I have been good friends for years. You don't mind if we're a little close, do you?" Lily stiffened, clearly waiting for my answer. I just shook my head. "Do whatever you want. Get close. Check into a hotel. It has nothing to do with me anymore."
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