On our fifth wedding anniversary, my wife’s best friend leaned close and asked her with a laugh in French:
“So, how does your little assistant taste?”
Annette handed me a piece of cantaloupe—my favorite—before answering just as carelessly in the same language, “Young and tender. Remember, you have to keep this company from my husband. Because if he finds out, he'll definitely leave me”
The crowd immediately burst into laughter, each one swearing they’d take the secret to their graves.
I stood there, clutching my glass so hard my knuckles went white.
They had no idea—I understood every word of French.
I had already known my wife was keeping a lover hidden away.
But I hadn’t confronted her with shouting or tears. Instead, I quietly submitted an application to transfer to a sealed-off national research institute.
Three days from now, I will fulfill her words.
——
Out of the corner of my eye, Annette noticed the cantaloupe still untouched on my plate. She looked at me with feigned worry and asked in English, “Darling, what’s wrong?”
The sight of her gaze, so full of affection for me, only felt like mockery.
Just moments earlier she had been gossiping about her lover, and now she could put on a performance as if I were the only man she adored.
“Nothing,” I replied casually. I couldn’t help but wonder—just how far could her lies go?
“What were you all talking about just now?” I asked.
Annette slipped her arms naturally around my waist, smiling sweetly.
“Oh, we were just discussing some business overseas. I know you don’t like to hear about work, so we switched to French.”
Perhaps lost in the haze of her romance, she had forgotten that I once spent time studying abroad in France. The air around me suddenly felt suffocating. I pushed her gently away.
“You carry on. I need some fresh air.”
Without waiting for Annette’s reply, I walked straight out of the banquet hall.
On the way out, I could hear whispers trailing behind me:
“That’s Mrs. Callahan’s husband, isn’t it? He’s truly blessed—not only was their wedding a worldwide sensation, but she also throws a grand celebration every anniversary. What a lucky man.”
“Oh, to have met such a perfect woman.”
…
Once, hearing others envy our love would have filled me with sweetness. But now, I felt nothing.
They had no idea that Annette Callahan—the woman who, on the surface, seemed to love me with her whole life—was cheating on me.
Just yesterday, I’d planned to give her our fifth anniversary gift ahead of time. Wanting to surprise her, I slipped into her office in secret, telling no one. I waited in the storage cabinet until I nearly dozed off. Then, the sound of ragged breaths jolted me awake.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Annette—the very woman who once swore she’d love only me—pressed against the floor-to-ceiling windows by her assistant, Kevin Krueger. Her face was flushed, their bare bodies leaving streaks on the glass as they writhed together.
They tangled in each other for three hours before finally putting their clothes back on and leaving.
Those three hours—I don’t even remember how I endured them. From the crushing despair at the start, to the numbness that swallowed me whole in the end.
By the time I walked out of that company, I knew my marriage with Annette Callahan was over.
A sudden ring from my phone snapped me out of the memory.
“Easton,” came my professor’s voice, “I’ve already reported your name to the research institute. In three days, someone will come pick you up. You might as well use it to say goodbye to your family.”
At the word family, my grip on the phone tightened.
After my parents died in an accident four years ago, Annette had been the only family I had left.
But now that she had betrayed me, she was no longer my family either.
