An Apology from My Husband after Marrying Another Woman

The first time Christoph and I truly saw each other for who we were was five years into our marriage.

He was furious. “Gina, do you have to throw yourself at me every day? Do you even understand what a platonic relationship means?”

I blinked awake, realizing I’d fallen asleep in the bathtub from sheer exhaustion.

Before I could explain, he threw on his clothes, dragged my naked body outside into the yard and hissed, “If you love being naked that much, why not enjoy it out here?”

He ignored my pleading, ignored the freezing winter air and even called the household staff to come and watch. It wasn’t until I collapsed with a high fever that he finally let me be.

Half-conscious from the heat burning through me, I stumbled to find medicine—only to hear heavy breathing coming from his room.

Peering through the crack of the door, I caught a glimpse of him tangled up in the sheets... with my widowed sister-in-law.

So this was his idea of “platonic love.”

Barely able to stand, I staggered back to my room and called his mother, Jill. “Mom, remember how you once suggested letting Chris take on both families? I’m ready to agree—but I have one condition.”

——

Jill paused, clearly stunned—then lit up with excitement. “Gina, are you serious? You’re really willing to share Chris? You’re not just trying to cheer your old mother-in-law up in the middle of the night, are you? Name your condition—I’ll agree to anything!”

I stared at the ceiling, silent tears slipping down my cheeks.

The first time my mother-in-law brought up that absurd idea—that Christoph should "honor both families"—I was so furious I shattered a teacup.

She wanted me to give up my husband so Natalie, her widowed daughter-in-law, could stay in the family and "carry on the line"?

How could I ever agree to something like that?

But I could care less... Now that the two of them are already sneaking around behind my back, what difference does it make whether I agree or not?

The man who once swore he loved me, who spoke so poetically about us pursuing a platonic love together…

He’s tainted now.

How ironic. When he dragged me—completely naked—into the freezing yard to "punish" me, he had the nerve to say I was the one who ruined his ideal of love.

Everyone in the Capital City saw us as the perfect couple. Even I believed it. I thought that even without sex, what we had would stay beautiful—pure.

That illusion got shattered, completely and irreversibly, the moment I heard those breathy moans rising from the guest room. I could still hear them now. It was faint, but unmistakable.

I let out a bitter laugh and said softly into the phone, “No, I’m not just saying this to humor you. I really agree. I just have one condition: Christoph needs to sign a document.”

Her excitement was almost shrill. “Yes, yes, of course! I knew you were a sensible girl, Gina! First thing tomorrow, I’ll talk to Chris about it. I promise—it’s just to help Nata have a baby. You two will still be the perfect couple that everyone envies!”

After hanging up the phone, I curled into a ball.

Even with the heat on full blast and wrapped in layers of blankets, I couldn’t stop shaking. Not from the cold—but from the sound coming through the wall.

They didn’t stop until nearly dawn. Every breathless moan, every creak of the bed, felt like a knife slowly carving into my chest.

Five years of marriage. Five years of so-called platonic love. In the end, it was all just a cruel joke.

I first met Christoph in the university library. He was sitting by the window, sunlight spilling over him like gold. He was reading "The Republic", completely absorbed. He looked so calm, so focused—it was love at first sight.

“You like Plato too?” I asked.

When Christoph looked up, his eyes were so bright they practically sparkled. I had no idea then that this simple question would become the chain around my neck for the next five years.

Before we were married, Christoph treated me with such respectful distance. I thought it was because he truly loved me—loved me enough to be gentle, patient, even reverent.

Yet, after we said our vows, he refused to sleep with me.

When I asked why, confused and hurt, he held my face in his hands and said, with that soft look in his eyes, “Gina, real love should transcend the physical. We should aim for something higher—something spiritual.”