After 40 Years of Marriage, I Found Out That I Was a Stand-In

While tidying Ayden's studio, I accidentally discovered the secrets he hid in his paintings.

The artwork depicted a woman's face, devoid of her facial features.

The same paintings filled the entire studio.

Only upon closer inspection with a magnifying glass did I realize they shared a peculiar trait.

They weren't created with traditional tools but through a repetitive combination of names.

It dawned on me that in our 40 years of marriage, he had always kept his first love in his heart.

Reflecting on my own life, I had willingly sacrificed good times for the sake of raising children and caring for my parents without complaints.

At that moment, I resolved to live for myself!

——

Ayden was an art teacher skilled in realism, sketching, oil painting, etc.

He had a habit of leaving his paints and brushes scattered after each session, which I always tidied up.

That day, he went to work, and I helped him tidy up his studio at home.

As I wiped the table, I accidentally knocked over a glass of water, soaking a nearby painting.

The artwork featured a woman's face but lacked any facial features.

The same paintings filled the entire studio.

I quickly moved the painting into the sunlight and waited for it to dry.

With the help of sunlight, I noticed something was off.

Why were the lines in this painting so messy and dense?

My curiosity piqued, and I must find answers.

I retrieved a magnifying glass and examined it closely.

The painting wasn't drawn but constructed from repeated names.

Lydia!

I recognized her as Ayden's first love.

My hands trembled, causing the painting to slip from my grasp.

I recalled asking him why he only painted the face without facial features.

He had playfully replied, "What you can't see gives you more room for imagination. Everyone sees things differently."

I was curious and asked, "What did you see?"

He gently held me in his arms and said as a matter of course. "Of course it's you."

Now, I realized his true vision in that painting was not me, but Lydia.

All he said were sweet words to deceive me.

Despite this, I still didn't believe in my heart that he was that kind of person.

Until one faceless portrait after another was turned over, and all of them had Lydia's name on them, I completely gave up.

Sitting alone on the sofa, I reflected on our 40 years of marriage, from youthful days to gray hair.

I thought I was his youth, only to discover it belonged to someone else.

As night fell, Ayden dragged his tired body back home.

I looked at him, noting his gray hair, and slightly hunched back, a reminder that time had passed.

He noticed the empty table and asked, "If we didn't cook tonight, should we go out for a bite?"

I remained silent on the couch, my calm exterior masking a well of anger.

Ayden seemed to notice that I was in a bad mood and sat down next to me.

He held my hand and said earnestly, "What's wrong? Is there something that makes you unhappy? Is Jeffrey causing trouble again?"

Ayden and I had been married for 40 years and had a pair of children, a son named Jeffrey and a daughter named Zoey.

To others, we were the envy of many for our love and harmony.

I had married my choice and believed I was the happiest woman in the world.

I used to think so, and even took pride in it.

But now, everything had changed. The love I once cherished felt like mere wishful thinking.

I laid out several faceless portraits in front of Ayden.

He was puzzled and asked, "What are you doing with these paintings?"

"Ayden, tell me honestly, who were you thinking of when you painted these?"

"You, of course!" Ayden replied without hesitation.

Disappointed, I said, "Ayden, we are 60 years old. Is it still necessary to deceive each other?

"You have Lydia in mind. Why are you afraid to admit it?"

Upon hearing this, his expression shifted, and he quickly explained, "Camille, I liked her when I was young, but those all past events and not worth mentioning.

"Besides, I only used her name for the painting. It doesn't mean there's anything between us.

"If you want, I can also use your name to paint. It doesn't matter."

I thought, "Doesn't matter? It matters to me."

During our time together, Ayden never offered to paint for me.

I consoled myself, thinking his role as an art teacher was his priority and that I shouldn't burden him.

He was out to make money while I managed our household.

Couples should understand, tolerate, and support each other.

Now, it seemed my consideration had led to his carelessness.

I pointed at the name on the painting and said coldly, "After countless nights writing her name, she must be unforgettable to you."

The next second, he erupted in anger, snatching the painting from me and tearing it apart, scattering the pieces like snowflakes on the floor.

"Is this what you wanted?" he gasped, his chest heaving.

I stared at the paper scraps, feeling as if our love had shattered at the slightest touch.

At that moment, everything felt meaningless.

The evidence could be erased, but the scar on my heart would never heal.