Five Years of Marriage Wasted

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I took the day off to stay home and prepare a special dinner, only to get a message from Ethan Lyle: “Lyle Technologies has some urgent matters tonight. I’ll need to work late. You should rest early.”

In that moment, all my excitement and anticipation crumbled to dust.

I couldn't just let it go, so I texted him back: “Can you come home earlier? Have you forgotten what today is?”

…

Today marks five years since I married Ethan. I had taken the day off, planning to cook him a lavish meal and celebrate the occasion.

Standing in front of the mirror, I adjusted my makeup and hairstyle again and again, striving for perfection. In the drawer of my bedside table was the lingerie I’d bought in advance. I had also prepared wine and fresh flowers, hoping to make the night unforgettable.

I met Ethan back in college when he and a few friends started a small tech company while I ventured into writing novels.

Normally, I wouldn’t go to such lengths to please him, but over the past six months, his increasingly distant behavior had started to raise alarm bells in my mind.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a new message.

"Lyle Technologies has some urgent matters tonight. I’ll need to work late. You should rest early."

Reading it, all of my excitement turned to dust.

Undeterred, I asked again: "Can’t you come back earlier? Have you forgotten what today is?"

My message went unanswered.

I waited for half an hour, but when he still hadn’t replied, I called him—only for it to go straight to voicemail.

When Lyle Technologies was just starting out, Ethan used to come home late, drunk, after a long day of pitching ideas and meeting with partners.

I understood the pressure he was under, so I’d always make him a comforting soup to sober him up when he got home.

For five years, I’d played the role of the thoughtful, obedient wife, but I couldn’t accept being stood up on our wedding anniversary.

After all, just a week ago, we’d agreed that he would be home to celebrate with me.

I quickly threw on a jacket and grabbed a cab to Ethan’s office.

There was no sign of his car downstairs. Frustrated, I called him again—but it went unanswered.

Somewhere along the way, we had gone from blissful newlyweds to this strange place where he could disappear without a word whenever he felt like it.

Every time, he’d use the “working late” excuse, asking me to be understanding, making me feel like I should always be patient and compliant.

I pushed the swirling thoughts aside and returned home, feeling utterly defeated.

Around midnight, Ethan finally stumbled through the door, the sound of him opening it waking me up.

The dinner I’d so carefully prepared was cold, and the wine in the decanter had already aired out but was untouched.

The first thing Ethan did upon seeing me was frown. “Didn’t I tell you? I had to work late tonight. Why are you still awake?”

“I just dozed off on the couch for a while. What happened at the company? Was it really that urgent?”

Rubbing my eyes, I walked over to take his coat.

But the next moment, I froze.

Though the heavy scent of alcohol lingered on him, I distinctly caught a faint whiff of rose perfume.

It wasn’t the perfume I wore.

I stood there, staring at him, trying to push down the thoughts racing through my mind.

No, it can’t be. I must be mistaken. Maybe one of his female clients wore rose perfume at the meeting?

In my eyes, Ethan had always been driven, responsible, and no matter what, if he was around, there was no problem that couldn’t be solved.

I should trust him unconditionally.