After Seven Years of Marriage, I Don't Love My Husband Anymore

The seventh anniversary of our marriage, also my birthday.

My wife was away on a business trip and didn't come back, she only ordered a mango cake for me.

The moment I smelled the mango, I put on a mask and threw the cake into the garbage station downstairs.

After taking an anti-allergy medicine, I went home and sent the signed divorce agreement to Harlow Moore.

The next morning, she video-called me,

"River didn't know you're allergic to mangoes, you always like to make a fuss about nothing, it's very annoying."

She was wearing the sexy lingerie I bought for her, casually lying next to a shirtless River Davies, not feeling anything inappropriate.

"Let's divorce then, I'll never bother you again!"

"Whatever you like!"

Harlow rolled her eyes indifferently and hung up the video.

I saw her again a month later.

"Cook me some stomach-nourishing food, my stomach hurts."

This month, under the guise of a business trip, she traveled with River to beautiful places, and surprisingly, she remembered to come home.

Six years after marriage, we were harmonious and loving. However, when we were preparing for IVF, her mother remarried River's father.

The siblings without blood ties gradually developed feelings for each other, leading to a misunderstood boyfriend-girlfriend relationship.

Harlow always insisted that they were just relatives.

I thought the first thing Harlow would do when she came home after I proposed a divorce was to process it with me.

But, she pulled her suitcase open and pushed it in front of me,

"Your gift, all handmade by me."

I had already seen her so-called handicrafts on River's social media and felt disgusted.

I'm not blind, I could tell at a glance that the items in the box were River's defective products, and the ones on River's social media were perfect pieces handmade by Harlow.

The attentive me even saw the love heart with two birds hit by one arrow carved by Harlow on those perfect pieces.

This was a pattern that she used to carve only for me.

Now, the handicrafts in the box no longer have any marks that belong solely to me.

I'm just like these defective products, an object that has been discarded.

I sat on the sofa, lazily glanced at her, and didn't get up to kiss her as usual, nor did I rush to the kitchen to make her stomach-nourishing meal.

She has a delicate body, and if she eats too much greasy food outside, she will inevitably have stomach discomfort.

Harlow was lying on the sofa, seeing me not moving for a long time, her eyebrows immediately furrowed,

"Barnaby, my stomach hurts, didn't you hear?"

"I'm not a doctor, I can't cure diseases."

My voice was calm, without any waves of reunion after a short separation.

Harlow's turning neck suddenly stiffened,

"What are you making a fuss about again?"

"Isn't it just because I didn't come back to celebrate your birthday due to work? Birthdays happen every year, I can make it up to you, do you need to be angry for so long?"

It seemed that she didn't understand why I was angry.

She thought giving me a month's time would be enough for me to continue serving her humbly after enduring her indifference.

The cold war was Harlow's ultimate weapon.

If she really went on a business trip alone, and neglected me for work, why not continue to serve her?

Unfortunately, she didn't know that River had shared their entire month's itinerary on Facebook.

How I got River's Facebook account, of course, is the cunning him, sent to me from an unknown number.

While they were enjoying their world, I was alone in the hospital enduring the torment of illness.

This month, she really only had three days for work.

The rest of the time, they were on a romantic journey.

In those photos, the ring on Harlow's finger was not a wedding ring, but a matching ring she shared with River.

My gaze fell on Harlow's finger, there was a faint mark on her middle finger.

It seemed that she just took it off not long ago.

And her empty ring finger was mocking me, I don't even have the ability to make my wife wear a wedding ring.

"I'm not angry."

Harlow gave me a quick glance, noticing that I was truly as calm as still water, harboring no resentment.

Her slender arms wrapped around my neck like a vine,

"Honey, I knew you're the best, I really want to have the porridge you cook..."

Her soft touch failed to stir any desire in me.

Instead, the faint hint of cologne on her, made my breath hitch.

It was the scent that River loved.

I grabbed her arm, pulling it off me,

"If you want to eat, cook it yourself."

Harlow, who was about to cling onto me, froze on one side.