Love after my wife's betrayal

Chapter 2

Once, Naomi and I had a chance at having a family of our own. It was years ago. When she found out she was pregnant, instead of joy, she looked at me like I’d crossed a line.

Her hand flew up, and I felt the sting across my cheek, right there in the middle of the hospital hallway, while others watched.

She accused me of doing it on purpose, as if I had any control over such a thing. The moment was seared into my mind, a mix of confusion and hurt, and then she spoke the words that still haunt me.

She told me a child would ruin her life, destroy her body, and that she’d be nothing more than a house-bound wife, chained to a life she despised. Her words were cold and flat.

I should’ve listened harder to what she was saying then, but love has a way of making us deaf.

Eventually, I agreed. We went through the motions, terminated the pregnancy, and “DINK” became our unspoken rule—Double Income, No Kids.

That was the lifestyle she said she wanted.

But it turned out to be a lie. It wasn’t that Naomi didn’t want to give birth. She just didn’t want to carry my child.

After the callous way she’d tossed my love and loyalty aside, I didn’t want to drag out the agony any longer.

I called my parents to let them know I was filing for a divorce and that I’d be coming back to take over the family business, a part of me that I’d left behind for her. My mom’s voice was a soft comfort, filled with surprise and a tinge of relief.

She’d always been concerned, but she never intruded. And now, hearing the change in my plans, she was quietly hopeful.

She paused and asked, “Eli, what will happen to the apartment I bought for you two?”

The apartment. I’d forgotten about that. When I’d left everything behind, my mother had come to check on me. She saw me and Naomi living in a cramped, shabby apartment barely fit for two. She couldn’t bear it and bought us a bigger place, a place that could hold a family if we wanted. But Naomi had brushed off the idea of moving in, saying she preferred our small home, that the bigger place felt too cold and empty.

“I’ll put it up for sale tomorrow, Mom,” I said.

After I ended the call, I was just about to take a breath when my phone buzzed again. It was Naomi, her voice sharp and impatient.

“Where are you, Eli? Why aren’t you home?”

I could barely believe the nerve. Here she was, demanding answers from me when she’d been the one ripping everything apart.

“I think it’s better for you to stay at the hospital and keep Ben company, don’t you?”

Her voice dropped, and the calm vanished, replaced by indignation. “Eli, can you stop acting this way? I haven’t done anything wrong! Ben and I only went through a medical procedure. There was no affair; it was just IVF. Can you not make a scene?”

The words didn’t sting like they once would have. I had nothing left to give. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she spoke again.

“Ben’s getting worse, Eli. Tomorrow morning, could you go to the market? Get some lotus root and ribs, and make that stew he likes. He needs it. Just don’t put any onions or garlic in; he’s particular about that. And simmer it for five hours at least. You know, the way he likes.”

I stared at the phone, feeling something colder than anger—a quiet realization. She’d truly started to believe I was nothing but an errand boy, a background to her world. And she didn’t even flinch when she asked for this favor. For him.

As I stayed silent, she sighed heavily, as though it was me who was being difficult. “Why don’t you understand? This is about life and death, Eli. Ben’s last wish is to have a child. This baby is his reason for fighting, for even trying at this point. But instead, you’re over there pouting about pride or whatever this is. Can’t you see the bigger picture?”

I laughed under my breath, empty and hollow, and the irony struck deep. This was who I’d sacrificed for, this woman who looked at me with pity, maybe even contempt.

Unable to even argue anymore, I sent a simple message, “I’ll prepare the divorce papers. We’ll sign tomorrow.”

Naomi was quiet for a beat on the other end, then she scoffed, muttering, “Fine. Bring them. But don’t go crawling back when you change your mind, Eli. You always do. You’ll see sense soon enough.”

After hanging up, I just sat there, staring at the phone, at the silence around me. The room felt hollow, emptied of the last shred of warmth I thought we had. Everything that made me stay with Naomi felt like dust slipping through my fingers.

Another message pinged. It was from my mom again, a small, hesitant question.

“I thought you said you both never moved into the apartment?”

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