My Wife's Affair with Her Young, Handsome Assistant

I had been married to Alice Zane for two years and not once had we slept in separate rooms. Tonight, she wore a delicate lace nightgown and for a brief moment, I thought this night would finally be bittersweet. That maybe, after all this time, things between us would change.

Instead, she opened the front door and let her young, handsome assistant, Mike Collar, walk in. With a gentle smile, she turned to me and said, "Mike and I have work to do tonight."

I caught the subtle smirk Mike threw my way, laced with mockery. They retreated into the master bedroom and soon, muffled laughter and flirtatious whispers filled the air, seeping through the walls like a cruel reminder.

I knocked on the door and handed her a pillow. "Why don’t you two just sleep together?"

Alice’s face twisted in irritation. "What are you thinking? We’re working on a project! If we wanted to do something, we would’ve gone to a hotel long ago."

But the messy strands of hair falling over her face, the faint mark on her neck—it all betrayed her.

Strangely, I felt nothing. Just an eerie calm. I met her gaze, her beautiful eyes now unreadable. "Let's get a divorce."

——

Her expression shifted, first startled, then amused. She sneered and threw the pillow at my face. "Do you have any new tricks? Threatening me with divorce again? If you have nothing better to do, go to sleep. Don’t interfere with my work."

Mike, still sitting on the bed, looked at me like I was some pitiful joke. I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of them, capturing their smug faces in one frame. Before Alice could react, I turned and shut the door behind me.

I sent the photo to my in-laws with a single message.

[I'm sorry, but Alice and I really can’t continue like this.]

Within minutes, her phone rang in the other room. I could hear her explaining, her voice calm and measured, "Adam is just being dramatic. It’s late—would you rather I work at a café with my subordinate?"

Two minutes later, she stormed out, eyes blazing. "Adam, are you insane? You actually tattled to my parents over something so trivial? I'm working, unlike you, who has nothing better to do. Can’t you be a little more understanding?"

I stared at her, saying nothing. She scoffed and spun on her heel, returning to Mike, their laughter picking up right where it had left off.

I sighed. I had no more energy for this. I pulled out my suitcase and began packing. Alice and I had known each other since childhood. We had been together for over twenty years. We only married because her parents pressured her into it.

I had gone to comfort her and on a whim, she turned to me with a bright, almost desperate smile and said, "Why don’t we just settle for each other and forget about it?"

My heart had pounded that day. I had convinced myself that we could find happiness in marriage. I was wrong.

On our wedding night, she had looked at me and said, "Adam, I know you too well. So well that there’s no excitement at all. Let’s sleep in separate rooms, okay?"

I didn’t want to force her into anything, so I agreed. And for two years, we lived as strangers under the same roof. Over time, her patience with me grew thinner, her coldness more biting, as if I had wronged her in some way.

Three months ago, her company hired Mike as an assistant—a young, fresh-faced man who brought light to her once-icy demeanor. For the first time in years, she smiled, laughed. But only for him. Meanwhile, she had nothing but resentment for me.

One evening, out of nowhere, she snapped, "Adam, why did you even want to marry me in the first place? You’re so dull, you know that?"

I had blamed myself. Maybe I was boring. Maybe I wasn't enough. So I tolerated her, forgave her, gave her space. But then she grew bolder. The stolen glances, the whispered conversations, the flirtations—they escalated. And tonight, she had the audacity to bring him into our bedroom for hours. That was my breaking point.

I shoved a few more of my belongings into the suitcase, listening to their laughter echo from the master bedroom. Then, without hesitation, I opened the door and walked out. The next morning, my phone rang.

Alice’s voice came through, casual, almost bored. "Adam, you're not at home?"

I lay sprawled on the bed in my family’s old house, still half-asleep.

"You didn’t even make breakfast. Where the hell did you go? Mike and I are starving, do you know that?"

Her sheer audacity left me speechless for several seconds. She hadn’t even noticed I had moved out. I wasn’t in the mood to ask what she and Mike had done last night. I didn’t care anymore.

Calmly, I said, "I’m not obligated to cook for you. Alice, this marriage is over. I’ll have the divorce papers ready by today."