"Have you caused enough trouble? Do you really think Anthony can replace you in my heart?"
Anthony. She called him by name so casually. I had spent ten years working hard for her family and the company. But it was clear now. None of it mattered to her.
I gave a bitter smile and nodded.
"Fine. It doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s get a divorce."
I had never brought up divorce, not even during our worst fights. I always tried to stay calm. But this time, I meant it. The thought of letting go squeezed my chest.
For a second, I thought I saw regret in Evelyn’s eyes. Perhaps, she still loved me. But then she laughed.
“Divorce? Don’t be ridiculous. How would you live without me? If my family hadn’t married me off to you, you’d still be sweeping the streets.”
She always did this, using my identity as a live-in husband to insult me. I used to feel ashamed. But not this time.
“It doesn’t matter. Even if I do end up sweeping the streets, it’s none of your business.”
“James!” she shouted.
People outside the office turned to look. Aside from the R&D team I led, most treated me like I was useless. A man living off his wife.
I used to put up with it for Evelyn. But now I knew that staying silent only made her worse. Suddenly, she softened and looked at me gently.
“James, I know it’s hard. But believe me, there will only be you and me. No other men.”
I didn’t know what exactly went on between her and Anthony. But I wasn’t blind. I had seen them in the car together. That wasn’t just friendship.
The way she looked at him … Was all her affection for me just an act?
“I’m going home. I need time to think.”
I left while the office workers watched, some of them clearly enjoying the drama. At home, I grabbed some beer and sat on the balcony alone. I didn’t know when I passed out.
Half-asleep, I felt someone cover me with a blanket.
When I woke up, Evelyn was smiling at me.
“You’re awake? You don’t usually drink, but you had so much.”
She handed me a hangover drink as she said, “Here, I bought this for you.”
For a moment, it felt like I had gone back ten years. She was even wearing an apron. I heard noise from the kitchen and turned to look. She was actually making soup. Spices were scattered across the stove. It was real.
In ten years, she had never cooked. I always took care of her meals, clothes and basically everything. I looked at her, unsure of what to believe.
Then, her phone rang.
She checked the screen, smiled and answered it quickly, “Oh, you’re already here? Wait a second, I’ll open the door.”
