The day of our seventh wedding anniversary, as I was waiting for Elias to come home, a video with a staggering number of views popped up on my feed. It was a photo of a recommendation letter, the text glowing over it. “She is my star student. Incredibly resilient and handles pressure well, though she can be a bit clumsy. Please, take the time to mentor her.” “If there are any issues with her work, tell her directly, but please don’t yell at her. She’s all alone, so far from home.” “Be advised: my student talks a lot and loves to complain to me. I have no children of my own, and I have a habit of playing favorites.” Every word was steeped in a genuine, tender affection. It was obvious this professor adored his student. I smiled, about to scroll away, when my thumb froze. For a split second, the world went numb. The signature at the bottom read: Elias Dawson. The shock lasted only a moment before I shook my head, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping my lips. It couldn’t be him. Elias was famously rigid, a man of unforgiving standards. He had refused to write a recommendation letter even for me, back when I was his student. In the seven years since, not a single one of his graduate students had ever received one from him. They’d complained to me in private about his cold, unyielding nature. Thinking of it now, the smile on my face deepened. The only thing that notoriously severe man had ever done that broke from his character was proposing to me. That single act had been my anchor. So even when our married life remained as coolly methodical as his academic papers, even when he adhered to a strict rule of seventy thrusts in bed—no more, no less—I knew, I just knew, that I was special to him. But then my thumb slipped, and I tapped on the user's profile. The warmth in my veins turned to ice. The student’s pinned video was a blurry, candid shot of her professor in profile. It only took a single glance. It was Elias. 1 My fingertip, trembling, hovered over the screen. I played the pinned video again and again. The profile was out of focus, a fleeting moment captured by a loving hand, but I saw it with perfect clarity. How could I not recognize the man I had shared a life with for seven years? My mind was a blank slate of roaring static. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to take a breath. There has to be a mistake. A man like Elias simply did not write letters of recommendation. Especially not one overflowing with such raw, undisguised devotion. But as I scrolled through her profile, the details sharpened into a cruel reality. The student’s location tag was for our city. Her university affiliation was Northwood, where Elias taught. Could it all be a coincidence? My heartbeat hammered against my ribs, loud enough to fill the empty house. I shouldn't be doubting him. I knew him better than anyone. I shouldn't— “I’m home.” The voice, as flat and predictable as ever, cut through my thoughts. My head snapped up to see Elias stepping through the door, his face a familiar, placid mask. When I didn’t respond, his brow furrowed slightly. He looked over at me, his tone clipped. “What’s wrong?” I instinctively hid my phone, forcing my lips into a smile as I stood to take his coat. “You’re late. Everything okay?” Elias’s movement was almost imperceptible, a slight hesitation before he answered. “I was helping a student with her work.” A cold dread seized me. My mind flashed back to the comment section of that video. A chorus of strangers was shipping the professor and his student, begging her for updates. Just half an hour before Elias had walked in, she’d replied to one of them. “Tee-hee, my advisor just finished helping me pack up my apartment!” I inhaled, and the scent that clung to his coat wasn’t the sterile, unscented laundry detergent of our seven-year marriage. It was a cheap, cloying gardenia perfume. He didn't seem to notice my distress. He strode into the living room, then stopped short. His gaze landed on the bouquet I’d bought on a whim earlier that day—a ten-dollar bundle of gardenias from the discount bin at the grocery store. “Married this long and you’re still buying flowers?” he asked. His voice was devoid of accusation, a simple statement of fact, but it felt like a shard of glass in my heart. My throat felt tight, as if a hand were squeezing it shut. It took a moment to find my voice. “They were on sale.” Elias just nodded, saying nothing more as he walked into the bathroom. His phone was on the coffee table, just a few feet away. I stared at it, unable to move. The truth was likely right there, a coiled snake waiting to strike, and I was terrified to touch it. It felt as if opening that phone would transform seven years of what I believed was love into a slap across the face. The sound of the shower started. My heart steeled itself. I walked over and picked it up. The password was his birthday. It hadn't changed. At first glance, his messages looked normal. With everyone but me, he was a man of few words. He hadn't even given me a pet name; my contact was just “Grace.” Except for one. A contact named “Lily.” My hand shook as I opened their chat history. It looked innocent enough. She was the talkative one, sharing everything from what she had for lunch to a photo of the sunset. A few hours ago, she had texted him complaining about how tiring it was to pack. Elias’s replies were short, but he replied to every single one. “Looks delicious.” “Beautiful.” “I’ll come help you.” “Open the door.” “I’m leaving. Lock up.” In that instant, the carefully constructed fortress around my heart crumbled into dust. Tears flooded my eyes. A moment later, a large hand snatched the phone from my grasp. “Grace, you have no sense of boundaries.” 2 His sudden movement startled me, and I stumbled backward, landing hard on the floor. Elias instinctively reached out to catch me, but his hand froze in mid-air. He stood over me, his brow furrowed, his voice still a cold, flat line. “You’ve never gone through my phone before. I’ve told you I don’t like people invading my privacy.” He sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. “This time, I’ll let it go. But I expect this to be the last time.” He bent down, extending his hand to help me up. I flinched away from his touch, scrambling to my feet on my own. A bitter laugh escaped me. “People?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Elias, we’ve been married for seven years. I’m your wife.” His jaw tightened. His expression didn't change, but the pressure in the room dropped. He was angry. Because I saw his messages with Lily? “Who is she?” I demanded. “A student.” The words were clipped, dismissive. He turned and walked to the dining table, taking his seat as if the conversation was over. I followed him, my voice rising despite my attempts to stay calm. “A student?!” I cried. “You don’t treat your other students like that! When you told her that her lunch looked delicious, you were eating the breakfast I made for you! A breakfast I asked you about, and you told me was just ‘fine’!” “When you told her the sunset she sent was beautiful, I had sent you a picture of the very same one, and you never even replied!” “She says she’s tired of packing and you drop everything to go help her? Elias, do you really think that shows a sense of boundaries?!” The fork in his hand finally clattered onto his plate. He looked up, his eyes flat and filled with a profound disappointment. “Grace, what’s happened to you? You’ve lost all sense of gracefulness. All you talk about is the rising price of groceries at the market. And now you’re screaming at me like a madwoman. Do you find this fulfilling?” He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor, and walked towards the guest bedroom. “I told you. She’s just a student. If you don’t believe me, feel free to investigate it yourself. Just stop making a scene in my house. It’s exhausting.” The door slammed shut. I stared at the elaborate anniversary dinner I’d cooked, a feast for two. My first thought, absurdly, was that if we didn’t eat it, it would go bad. I sat down and began to mechanically spoon food into my mouth. The steak was tougher than I remembered. Tomorrow I'd have to go to a different butcher. The asparagus wasn't overcooked this time, which was good, but it tasted too salty. My eyes felt hollow as I raised a hand to wipe my cheek. It wasn't the asparagus. I was tasting my own tears. A jolt went through me, sharp as lightning. I had become her. The woman Elias complained about. A frumpy, nagging housewife. Seven years ago, I was vibrant, full of life and passion. How did I become this? My heart ached with a hundred different sorrows. The food in my mouth tasted like ash. I numbly cleared the table, washed the dishes, and went to our bedroom alone. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, Elias left for the university at eight o’clock, sharp, just as he always did. I got up and followed him. Even though I knew, deep down, what his behavior meant, I had to see it with my own eyes. 3 He was only a few steps from the faculty parking lot when a young woman in a preppy plaid skirt and knee-high socks came bounding up behind him, throwing her arms around his waist in a playful hug. My steps faltered. I pressed a hand to my mouth to stifle the sound that threatened to escape. Elias stopped, a long-suffering sigh escaping him as he gently pried her arms off and turned her around to face him. “What are you doing here so early?” Lily’s face was glowing with excitement as she pulled out her phone. “Look! The video has three million views! Everyone is shipping us! Isn't that hilarious?” Her phone’s volume was low, but I heard every word with piercing clarity. I had spent the entire night watching that same video, tears streaming down my face. Elias’s brow furrowed. He took the phone from her, studying it for a long moment before his voice turned cold. “I wrote you that letter to help your future, not for you to post frivolous videos like this.” “Delete it.” A wave of relief washed over me. He didn’t know. He hadn't approved of it. But then Lily’s eyes instantly welled with tears. “I just wanted to have a record of our time together. Why can’t I post it? Once I start my new job, I’ll barely get to see you. When I miss you, I can watch the videos.” Elias, the man who had always been completely unmoved by female tears, let out another sigh. This time, it was softer. He reached out and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “Don’t cry.” “I’ve already submitted my resignation to the university.” “The company that hired you offered me a position as a senior consultant. I accepted.” “You’ll still see me.” I bit down hard on my lower lip, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth as my vision blurred. Three years ago, the tech giant I worked for had tried to recruit Elias, offering him a generous package. He’d turned them down flat. “My life’s work is in academia, Grace. I won’t abandon it for anyone. You know that.” And I did know. I hadn’t complained. But now, every small sacrifice, every moment of loneliness I had endured over the past seven years, felt like a series of sharp, stinging slaps. I suddenly realized that Elias wasn’t immutable. He wasn't the rigid, unbending man I thought I knew. He was capable of writing heartfelt recommendations. He was capable of changing his entire life for someone. Just not for me. Lily’s joyful cheer echoed in the quiet morning air. I couldn’t take it anymore. I surged forward and swung my handbag with all my might, catching him across the face. He staggered back, his face a mask of shock that quickly curdled into dark fury when he saw it was me. “Are you following me? Grace, when will you stop?” Seeing my red, swollen eyes, Lily let out a delicate laugh. “Oh, you must be the professor’s wife. My goodness, your eyes are so puffy. Were you crying all night? What did he do to make you so upset? He can be so dense sometimes, you can tell me all about it.” She chattered on, reaching out as if to comfort me. I shoved her away, and she stumbled to the ground with a small cry. Ignoring her, I pulled out my phone, brought up the video, and held it in front of Elias’s face. “This is the letter you wrote for her. And you still claim there’s nothing going on?” I screamed, my voice cracking. “When have you ever written a recommendation for anyone else?!” “Elias, you—” “Have you had enough?!” His face was a thundercloud. I had never seen him this angry. It was because I had pushed Lily. He helped her to her feet, shielding her with his body as he glared at me. “One more scene, Grace, and we’re getting a divorce.” The last sliver of hope in my heart died. Suddenly, a strange calm washed over me. I looked at the man before me, truly looked at him, as if for the first time. He couldn't see the dark circles from my sleepless night. He couldn't see the eyes that were raw from crying. He couldn't see the seven years of compromises, the swallowed resentments, the slow erosion of my own spirit for his sake. He couldn't see my hysteria, my pain, my grief. All he could see was that Lily had been pushed. And in that moment, I felt an immense, soul-crushing exhaustion. Elias turned, taking Lily’s arm to lead her away. As I watched his retreating back, my voice, though trembling, was clear. “Fine.” “Let’s get a divorce, Elias.” 4 Elias paused for a fraction of a second. He didn’t turn back. His voice, cold and distant, drifted back to me on the wind. “As you wish.” I went home, packed a suitcase, and waited. My phone buzzed. It was my best friend, Olivia. “Grace, have you seen the posts online?! What the hell is going on with your husband? Is he really messing around with a student?” I frowned, not having a chance to process before she sent me a link. “Just look! That girl, Lily, posted that video of him last night, and someone figured out it was Elias! Now all of his former students are crawling out of the woodwork, saying he never wrote a letter for any of them and that something shady is definitely going on! I mean, Elias is the youngest tenured professor at Northwood, everyone knows who he is. People are posting all the photos they’ve taken of him and Lily together on campus!” “The way they’re standing so close… Anyway, I won’t say more. Just look for yourself. Call me if you need anything. I’m here for you in San Diego.” The call ended. Holding my breath, I clicked the link. The post had even more traction than the original video. Of the hundreds of thousands of comments, the top-rated ones were all from Elias’s former students. “We all studied under Professor Dawson. As far as we know, he’s always been incredibly strict and has never, ever written a student a letter of recommendation. The fact that he wrote one for Lily, plus all these photos? How is that not a smoking gun?!” “Also, his wife—Grace—was his student too! He didn’t even write one for her!” My hand trembled as I scrolled through the photos in the comments, one after another. So many days when I had waited for a reply that never came, he had been with her. Taking her to a flower shop, buying a huge, extravagant bouquet that made my ten-dollar bargain bin flowers look pathetic. Taking her to the movies. They were even watching a children’s animated film, the kind of thing he’d always called a waste of time. Taking her for walks across campus, something I had begged him for for seven years, and never once gotten. I looked at each photo, and with each one, my heart grew colder, calmer. My phone buzzed again. A message from Olivia with a screenshot of a flight confirmation. “Tonight’s flight. Come stay with me. Don’t argue. You only have me now.” I didn’t argue. She was right. I had no one else. In the past seven years, both of my parents had passed away. I had let my social circle wither, my entire world revolving around Elias. After my miscarriage three years ago, I fell into a deep depression and even quit my job. I caught my reflection in the dark screen of the TV. I didn't recognize the woman staring back at me. I refused to become even more of a stranger to myself. Elias didn’t come home until late that night. The fury on his face was undisguised. He stormed over and threw his phone at me; it landed softly on my lap. “This was your doing, wasn’t it?” he seethed. “Do you have any idea what this will do to Lily? To her reputation?” “Why did you have to drag an innocent person into our problems?! There has to be a limit to your irrationality!” I clenched the phone in my hand and stood up. I placed the signed divorce papers on the table in front of him and let out a hollow, self-mocking laugh. “Elias, in your eyes, I’m the innocent person who got dragged into this, aren’t I?” I asked softly. “Seven years. You’ve done things for her that you never once did for me. Is that how you treat a student? Because it feels like I’m more of a student than she ever was.” “Just sign it.” Elias stared at me for a long time, as if finally realizing I was serious. A flicker of panic crossed his face. He reached for me, but I pulled away. “Don’t touch me,” I whispered. “You reek of gardenias. It’s nauseating.” The flowers on the table had started to wilt, their sweet scent turning cloying and sour, just like the smell clinging to him. The stench of decay. He understood my meaning perfectly. His face turned ashen. After a long, tense silence, he snatched the pen and signed his name with a furious scrawl. His voice was a low growl, squeezed from between clenched teeth. “You’ll regret this.” I smiled and picked up my suitcase. “No, I won’t.” I had just reached the elevator when I heard his footsteps pounding down the hall behind me. But they stopped abruptly at his apartment door. A moment later, I heard Lily’s frantic, wailing voice through his phone’s speaker. “They’re all attacking me online, Professor! I can’t take it anymore, I want to die—” “I’m on my way right now. Wait for me!” Elias burst out of his apartment, shoved past me without a glance, and jabbed the elevator’s down button. I didn’t fight him for it. I calmly watched the doors slide shut. Then, I turned and walked to the other elevator. If I couldn't have his love, his special favor, then I didn't want any of it anymore.
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