After I Realized I Didn't Love Him Anymore, My Ex-Husband Regretted

During our holiday outing, both Jane, our housekeeper, and I fell into the river.

My husband pushed my pregnant self aside to save Jane, who was further away and could swim.

Jane clung to my husband's neck, her wet body pressed against him.

It looked like all they needed was a bed to set the scene.

I, heavily pregnant at eight months, climbed ashore.

I selected the divorce agreement and sent it off.

Note: The leash is off. Feel free to go eat dirt.

——

It had all started during the holiday when Jane suggested a trip to the river.

At eight months pregnant, I wasn't feeling great, so I declined.

My husband scolded me for being inconsiderate. After all, it wasn't often he got to spend time with Jane.

Jane pouted to my husband, saying she had never been on a boat her whole life.

I felt sickened by it all. Did they want to have a boat ride or something more?

On the boat, the two of them started horsing around.

Jane was pretending to be scared, so my husband held her close.

They flirted, kissed, and acted like a couple.

I nearly threw up my breakfast in disgust.

It seemed these two were constantly in heat. They no longer even tried to hide it from me.

As they continued their whispers and flirtations, anyone who didn't know better would think they were the married couple.

Soon, their exaggerated movements caused the boat to tip over.

My husband pushed me away and went to save Jane, who could swim.

Jane, dressed in a white dress, clung to him, her dress nearly see-through after getting soaked.

I stopped struggling, floating thanks to my cheap life vest.

Luckily, we weren't far from shore, and the staff quickly rescued me.

As they turned to save the others, I stopped them.

"They've got something more important going on," I said. "Just look."

In the river, they were wrapped tightly around each other.

I pulled out my phone and sent the finalized divorce agreement to my husband's Twitter.

Note: The leash is off the dog, feel free to go eat crap.

Soaking wet, I made my way to the hospital, my belly protruding.

The river water in May was cold, and with my pregnancy, I soon developed a fever.

The doctor advised physical cooling, warning me not to take any medication.

The baby's condition wasn't great. There was a risk of premature birth.

Worried about the baby, I panicked.

I called my husband over ten times, but no answer.

I checked my social media, only to find Jane had posted an update: [A man should be like this.]

In the accompanying picture, she lay on a bed, and my husband was massaging her feet, smiling mysteriously.

Ugly, but having all the fun in the world.

The next day, my husband finally remembered me.

His first words when he called were, "Gloria Smith, are you crazy? What's with the divorce agreement? Jane was terrified, and you're still causing trouble, aren't you?"

I started to explain, "The doctor said the baby..."

"Stop using the baby as an excuse," he cut me off. "You just can't stand seeing this family happy." Then he hung up.

During the entire phone call, there was not a single word of concern.

In his mind, strong people never had moments of weakness.

Jane, on the other hand, was always fragile.

Fragile people needed warmth, and his version of warmth was satisfying her in bed.

Jane had been his family's nanny. His mother died and his father became ill.

Most of the time, it was Aunt Jane who took care of him.

Jane was actually only five years older than him.

Since his father died of a heart attack, Jane had taken care of him.

To him, she wasn't just a nanny, she was practically family.

When he told me this, I had admired Jane's devotion.

A nanny with no blood ties, doing so much for the family—it was commendable.

I had sworn to honor Jane together with him.

But now, everything had changed.