My Love for my Ex-husband Never Came Back

After receiving a prenatal injection, I received an anonymous video on my phone.

In the video, a man sang nursery rhymes with a little boy wearing a birthday hat.

He dabbed a bit of cream on his finger and smiled as he smeared it on a woman's nose. Then he bent down to kiss it away.

My phone slipped from my hand to the floor, and I trembled all over uncontrollably.

The scar on the inside of the man's wrist was an old one, left from the time he saved me.

Around his neck hung the pendant I had fetched for him from a famous church to ensure his safety.

When I returned home, the expansive riverside apartment felt empty.

The housekeeper brought some herbal soup meant to stabilize my pregnancy. She sighed and placed it on the table. "Mr. Stewart has a social engagement this evening and won't be home for dinner."

It was the tenth night he had used this excuse not to come home.

I removed the diamond ring that symbolized our love and called the lawyer, Martin Higgins.

I didn't want to wait any longer. My husband, Bruce Stewart, had given his tenderness to another woman and was not worth my love.

...

When the call connected, I mustered all the strength I had to keep my voice from trembling. "Martin, I want a divorce. Please draft the divorce papers for me."

The voice on the other end was as calm as ever. "Miss Payne, it is not the time to act on emotion. You need to gather substantial evidence of Bruce's infidelity. Otherwise, you'll be at a disadvantage in the property division. Especially since you're currently unemployed and entirely dependent on him."

I hung up the phone and collapsed onto the sofa.

My eyes fell on the jade bracelet around my wrist.

It was the only keepsake my mother left me.

The smooth, warm touch of the bracelet made me remember that hellish rainy night six years ago.

A crazed assailant broke in and sought revenge against my father, a police officer.

My parents lost their lives to protect.

I held my two-year-old daughter tightly, but her body grew cold and lifeless.

Just as the blood-stained knife was about to pierce my heart, Bruce Stewart dashed in.

He used his body to shield me from the deadly blow.

The knife went through his wrist, and his warm blood sprayed across my face.

I stared at him and forgot to scream or breathe.

When the police burst in, I hear his weak yet resolute voice. "Vera, don't be afraid."

His words became my sole reason to survive.

That day, I lost everything but clung to Bruce as my lifeline.

As soon as he woke up in the hospital, wrapped in bandages, he held me tightly.

He vowed to spend his life protecting and caring for me.

After his discharge, I was terrified of losing him again and went to the most famous church, bowing repeatedly as an act of devotion to get him that pendant.

Because he had risked his life saving me, I kept all my grievances to myself.

I forgave him for coming home increasingly late. I forgave him when he had an unfamiliar perfume scent on him. I forgave him when his patience with me ran thin.

Even when he repeatedly used work engagements as an excuse not to come home, I found excuses for him.

He was too tired, and the pressure at work was immense.

But who was the guy in the video, smiling so gently and lovingly?

At two in the early morning, the door lock clicked softly.

Bruce was back.

He saw I was still awake, and concern flashed in his eyes.

He quickly walked over and held me tightly. "Vera, did you have a nightmare again? Don't be afraid. I'm here."

He sounded exhausted, yet it was still gentle, which I had known for years.

A delicate gift box was placed on the dressing table. "It is our wedding anniversary today. I bought you a gift."

As usual, I leaned against him gently and drew comfort from the little warmth he offered.

But my nose caught the unmistakable scent of perfume that wasn't mine.

I fought the nausea rising in my stomach and didn't confront him.

Bruce seemed truly exhausted and quickly fell asleep.

I watched his sleeping face and trembled as I picked up his phone.

I unlocked it with his fingerprint.

The top message on WhatsApp was from a woman named Rosalyn Barton.

I clicked on her profile picture and found it was the woman from the video.

Countless scandalous photos and explicit messages bombarded my eyes.

"Dear Bruce, you're amazing. I love you so much."

"Honey, when will you have a divorce? Our boy and I have been waiting painfully."

"Sweetheart, Caiden called you 'Daddy' again today. When will you come see us?"

The latest message was sent just half an hour ago.

"Honey, you were incredible tonight. Let me know when you get home."

Accompanied by a "love you" emoji.

I bit my lip hard and refused to make a sound.

Tears silently fell onto the screen.

I trembled as I backed up all the chat records, the photos, and the transaction records before sending them to my email.

After doing everything, I deleted the sending history and cleared the traces. Then I carefully put the phone back in its spot.

I lay back beside him and stared at his face. He was so close, yet I felt cold all over.

He had sworn to protect me forever. But he made me feel utterly unfamiliar and repulsive.