He is My Husband But He Didn't Save Me

I came across Vicky's latest update.

[He came over immediately to bring me medicine when I caught a cold.]

I was in unbearable pain, yet Zach abandoned me without hesitation because of Vicky’s minor cold.

At that moment, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing—laughing at how ridiculous and pitiful I had become. But as I laughed, tears started streaming down my face.

Wiping them away, I picked up my phone and messaged the professor:

[Professor, I’ll be able to report to Florida in a week.]

I studied design in college and received an invitation from a foreign professor to further my studies. I turned down the opportunity back then because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Zach.

But the professor never gave up on me, and we kept in touch. For the first time, I agreed to his offer. He replied immediately, sending a flood of messages in excitement.

After responding to all of them, I fell asleep in the hospital ward.

I was half-asleep when the sudden ringing of my phone startled me awake. On the other end of the line, Zach’s familiar, slurred voice came through.

"Yvette, come pick me up. You have to come pick me up."

His brother took over the call, giving me the bar’s address. I hesitated for a while but eventually decided to go.

The dim lights of the bar cast a shadowy haze over the scene. There Zach was, nestled in Vicky’s arms, French-kissing her passionately.

His brothers jeered around him.

"Zach, you and the eldest sister-in-law still make the best match!"

"Zach, now that Yvette Lane’s back, you can finally stop enduring Vicky’s nonsense!"

My unexpected arrival silenced their teasing.

I could understand their perspective. From the outside, it must have looked like I was repaying Zach’s kindness. Maybe even Zach himself believed that.

Despite being in Vicky’s arms, the moment Zach saw me, he stumbled over and clung to me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Yvette, hey, baby is here," he murmured drunkenly.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his behavior. He always acted like a spoiled child after drinking.

Under Zach’s insistence, I helped him to the parking lot.

The next morning, when he woke up, his face was clouded with irritation.

He barely touched the breakfast the maid brought, rubbing his temples instead.

"You didn’t make me hangover soup today," he grumbled.

I set my sandwich down and didn’t know how to respond.

I had already made up my mind to cut Zach out of my life.

I simply looked at him silently, offering no reply. My indifference made him uneasy, and he spoke again, panicking:

"I didn’t do anything bad last night, did I?"

I had seen him being intimate with Vicky and heard his brothers’ taunts. But I didn’t feel anything anymore. I needed moments like these—painful and undeniable truths—to harden my resolve.

My silence only deepened his guilt. He suggested dinner that evening, speaking with a flattering tone.

We met at a restaurant later that night.

The private dining room was beautifully decorated, with a breathtaking view of the Bund. But Zach’s sudden departure to fetch wine turned into an encounter with Vicky.

When he returned, he explained curtly, "Just ran into a friend."

I smiled faintly and nodded, pretending not to care.

As I quietly ate, I watched them talking just outside the room.

After Zach stepped away again, Vicky entered, her gaze sharp and confrontational.

"Didn’t you see it all?" she sneered.

I ignored her comment, but she grabbed my collar, her previously composed demeanor replaced with fury.

"Don’t think that just because he went home with you last night, you’ve won."

I calmly pushed her arm away and kept my distance. Before I could respond, her lips curled into a strange smile. She suddenly leaned back, letting herself fall.

Zach’s angry voice echoed as he rushed into the room.

"Yvette, what are you doing?"

He hurried to help Vicky up as she leaned weakly against his chest.

In a trembling, wronged tone, she murmured, "Zach, it’s okay. I just lost my balance."