An Apology from My Husband after Marrying Another Woman

I loved Christoph, so I believed him. I even felt proud of our situation. Proud that our love was so pure, so untouched by desire.

Every time I reached for him, needing closeness, craving connection, he’d gently push me away with the same soft excuse, “Let’s not taint what we have, Gina. Our love is sacred.”

Looking back now, the signs were all there—so obvious I almost hate myself for missing them. The way his eyes lit up when he looked at Natalie. How he’d dress up every time she visited. The times I walked in on them alone and they’d spring apart like guilty teenagers.

I cried until my pillow was soaked. My heart felt hollowed out. That night, I drafted the divorce papers. Then finally drifted into a fitful, aching sleep.

I was woken the next morning by a gentle voice.

Christoph stood by the bed, wearing an apron, holding a plate of my favorite—strawberry pancakes. “Sweetheart, breakfast is ready,” he said cheerfully. “Come on, time to enjoy something delicious.”

He leaned down to kiss my forehead. I instinctively pulled away.

He paused, surprised, then smiled even more tenderly—like he hadn’t thrown me out naked into the snow and humiliated me just hours ago.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t sleep well?” He reached out to touch my face.

I flinched again.

The red marks on Christoph’s neck stung more than my eyes could bear.

He noticed where I was looking and scratched his neck awkwardly. “Must’ve been a mosquito last night… weird, right? How’d you sleep?”

I didn’t answer.

Outside the door, a few of the house staff exchanged glances. Their eyes flicked toward me—some with pity, others with barely hidden amusement.

I turned and headed straight for the bathroom, only to nearly collide with Natalie at the door.

“Morning, Gina!” she said, all saccharine cheer. “Hope you don’t mind me crashing breakfast.”

She casually tugged at her neckline, revealing more skin. Her chest and collarbone were littered with unmistakable love bites.

“Huh… strange. This time of year shouldn’t have mosquitoes, right?” She leaned in slightly, her tone mocking. “Chris and I both got bitten. Guess you must’ve been spared, huh?”

Her eyes flicked to my bare neck, a smirk curling at the corner of her lipstick-slicked mouth.

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms so hard I should’ve felt pain. I didn’t.

“Move,” I said, my voice low.

She stepped aside with a little laugh, but as I brushed past, she leaned in and whispered, “You heard how passionate Chris was with me last night, didn’t you? Poor thing—you’ve never had it that good.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. The reason Christoph always locked the bedroom door at night like he was guarding treasure. Natalie must’ve left it ajar on purpose—wanted me to hear, wanted me to know.

The smugness in her eyes, the triumph on her face—it snapped something in me. Without thinking, I raised my hand and slapped her. Hard. Natalie stumbled back, clutching her cheek, wide-eyed, tears welling fast.

“If you didn’t want me joining you for breakfast, Gina, you could’ve just said so,” Natalie said, voice trembling with wounded innocence. “You didn’t have to hit me…”

She turned and hurried off, her steps quick and shaky—only to run straight into Christoph at the end of the hall.

He caught her instinctively, arms wrapping around her as she buried herself in his chest. His expression shifted the moment he saw her face—reddened, marked by my hand.

He gently cupped her cheek, examining her like she was some delicate porcelain doll. His eyes filled with concern, with protectiveness he’d never shown me.

Then he turned to me, fury flashing in his eyes. “Gina! What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you slap Natalie? Have you lost your mind?”

Natalie provoked me. She wanted this. She asked for it.

Before I could even open my mouth, Natalie spoke first—soft and self-effacing. “Chris… it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come and interrupted your time with Gina. It’s only natural she’d be upset. Don’t be mad at her, please…”

And just like that, he looked at me like I was a monster. Like I was the one tearing everything apart.

“Apologize to her,” he snapped. His voice sharp as glass.

I stared straight into his eyes and said, clear and cold, “She deserved it.”

That was the last straw. His face darkened, his fury boiling over. In a flash, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me toward the staircase.