My Broken Marriage

One time was after our engagement.

I had finally saved enough for a down payment and planned to buy a house near my office, which would serve as our marital home.

However, Sarah disagreed. She and her family took turns trying to convince me otherwise, carefully analyzing the pros and cons.

In the end, I ended up buying the small, old apartment her parents had lived in for twenty years.

Meanwhile, her parents used the money from selling me their place to buy a spacious new condo with a river view.

At that time, Sarah nestled in my arms, sweetly calling me "hubby."

She said this apartment was in the best school district, ensuring our future children would receive an excellent education.

As we planned our future together, my heart was filled with warmth and anticipation.

I thought the old place wasn't so bad – it had character. It was just further from work, but I figured I'd work harder and buy a car to make the commute easier.

The other time was shortly after her miscarriage.

Her younger brother was getting married, and he needed $600,000 for the wedding.

Her parents had spent all their money on their new apartment.

She asked me to help cover her brother's wedding expenses.

Still recovering, she lay pale-faced in bed, her big eyes misty with pleading as she looked at me.

She called me "hubby" in the gentlest voice I'd ever heard from her.

Out of guilt and love for my wife, I kept quiet about pushing myself sick at work events.

I took out all the bonus money I'd earned from that project and added it to my car savings, barely scraping together enough.

Except for those two times, she always called me "Damien" with a cool detachment.

I had always thought that because her parents favored her brother, she lacked security and struggled to express her feelings, loving in a reserved way.

But it turns out she can express her feelings after all.

Her passionate messages with this "Darling Hubby" made me blush.

If I weren't her legal spouse, I'd think this was such a happy family of three.

In the chat history, my wife shared with another man Ethan's first smile, first crawl, and first time calling someone "Dada."

These were precious moments of our son's growth that I had deeply regretted missing.

My mind was in chaos as I looked at these photos now.

Glancing at the well-behaved Ethan nearby, I realized the son I once thought looked just like me actually didn't resemble me at all.

Children are very perceptive.

Ethan noticed my gaze, which was so different from his usually doting father's, even a bit frightening. His lips quivered, about to cry. Familiar with his moods, I quickly picked him up and held him close.

Seeing Sarah's brow furrow, showing signs of waking, I hurriedly marked the messages as unread and put the phone back.

"Mmm, you're home," Sarah mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Seeing me holding Ethan, she quickly got up and took him from me. "You must be tired. There's leftover lasagna in the fridge if you want to eat."

She had always been like this, very reluctant for me to have contact with Ethan, as if afraid he might become closer to me.

I used to think she was being considerate, not wanting me to deal with childcare after a hard day's work.

"I've already eaten. I'm a bit tired today, so I'll go rest now."

I didn't know what expression to wear to face her and Ethan anymore.