After My Husband's Affair, I Chose Divorce

On the day of my check-up, I discovered a hidden photo album on my husband's phone. Opening it, I was shocked to find countless intimate photos of him with another woman.

Clutching the phone tightly, I confronted him.

He remained silent for what felt like an eternity before retreating to the bathroom. After smoking three cigarettes, he finally confessed, "When I was a child, I accidentally hurt her, causing her to lose her sight. She's the one person I can never repay, and that's why."

Seeing as I was three months pregnant, I decided not to push further, choosing instead to forgive him and pretend everything was fine as we carried on with my examination.

When we reached the part I dreaded most—having my blood drawn—his orderly called out, "Major General, Miss Olson heard about your wife's pregnancy, and she's beside herself, insisting on seeing you!"

Hearing those words, Phoenix's grip on me slackened immediately. Without a second thought, he turned and left, not once looking back.

I placed my hand over my stomach, swallowing my bitterness as I called after him, "Phoenix, if you really walk away now, I'll end this pregnancy. So think carefully..."

He hesitated briefly, but then his figure disappeared into the crowd.

...

My heart plunged into an icy abyss. The past eight years replayed in my mind—unplanned business trips on our anniversaries, mysterious nights he didn’t come home, his volunteering every week despite his tight schedule. All these clues I had willfully ignored in the name of love.

Now, with the truth plainly before me, any remaining trust in him disintegrated completely.

Darwin Matthews, our driver, noticed my pale appearance and spoke softly, "Adaline, Miss Olson lost her sight shortly after her brother's accident, so it's understandable that Major General is concerned for her. But over the years, he's only regarded her as a sister. Try not to overthink it..."

Darwin had been Phoenix's driver for ten years and was like family to him. Yet, in all our years together, he never once mentioned Juliette Olson to me. Now, he couldn’t even meet my gaze.

If Phoenix only saw Juliette as a sister, why hadn't he ever introduced her to me?

The more I thought about it, the more my heart ached.

Just then, my parents called. "Sweetheart, how's everything going? Is the baby healthy?"

"Come over for dinner later. We've prepared all your and Phoenix's favorite dishes."

Not wanting to worry them, I took a deep breath to steady my voice. "We're still waiting for the test results. I'm not sure how long it’ll take. He... has something he needs to do tonight, so we won't be able to make it for dinner."

They reminded me of a few things, and I pretended everything was normal as I agreed.

But after hanging up, an oppressive weight settled over my chest.

Since I became pregnant, Phoenix had promised countless times that he would stand by me and our baby forever. Yet today, he had abandoned us without a second thought to take care of someone else.

For five long hours, I sent message after message. But until my phone battery died, Phoenix never responded.

Suddenly, I struggled to breathe, and my vision blurred—the last thing I heard was Darwin's panicked voice.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed.

The doctor entered just then with the report and smiled. "Mrs. Greene, congratulations, you're having twins."

What should have been joyous news felt hollow.

Years ago, I had fallen for Phoenix at first sight, pursuing him for three months before finally winning over the elusive "man on a pedestal."

As his career took off and he became more engrossed in work, our meetings became few and far between. It wasn't until he became a Major General that he knelt on one knee during the medal ceremony and proposed.

"Adaline, when we have children, I'll be with you every day, watching them grow up."

Countless memories and promises swirled through my mind.

I glanced at the wedding ring on my finger, feeling the absurdity of it all.

This song that had been on repeat for eight years—it was time to change the track.