My Wife Loved Him, Until the Truth Destroyed Her

The moment she heard her name, Maya froze, her hand still reaching into the flames for the photo album.

To cover the awkward silence, she snapped at Hannah, "Shut up! Is that any way to speak to your father? You’re an adult now, can’t you watch your mouth?"

Realizing she had gone too far, Hannah shot me a scornful glance, then followed her mother’s lead, reaching into the fire to salvage the mistake booklets.

But she still muttered under her breath, loud enough for me to hear, "Good thing I got here in time. If you’d burned all of them, what would my godfather show on TV? Seriously, what’s wrong with you?"

Maya clutched the photo album, scorched and warped beyond recognition, then pressed her fingers to her temples, her voice heavy with frustration.

"Weren’t these photos what you cherished the most? Now they’re ruined. You’ll only feel worse later. What are you even trying to prove?"

I stood there, motionless, watching the two of them frantically dig through ashes for things that no longer mattered to me.

All I had burned were objects. What they had destroyed was me.

I ignored their frantic attempts to save what little remained from the fire and turned away, retrieving the divorce papers I had already signed.

"Sign them. We’re done here."

Maya stared at the agreement, then looked up at me, disbelief written all over her face.

"Just because I gave Ivy a godfather? Dylan, have you lost your mind?"

"No. It’s because you and your daughter made me realize that twenty years of effort meant absolutely nothing."

I pointed at the fireplace, my smile cold and bitter. "Just like those ashes."

Hannah stormed up to me, her eyes burning with anger.

"Dylan, can you stop being so selfish? When I was drowning in pressure and wanted to end everything, it was Uncle Alexander who helped me through. What right do you have to be mad?"

The daughter I had poured every ounce of love and energy into now looked at me with hatred, refusing even to call me “Dad.”

And the so-called “guidance” she spoke of?

It was nothing more than Alexander secretly giving her a phone and staying up all night gaming with her behind my back.

If the teacher hadn’t pulled me aside to ask why Hannah was falling asleep in class every day, I would’ve never known that, so close to the college entrance exam, she had been sneaking around like that.

In response, I took her to see a psychologist. I cooked her favorite meals every night. I tried everything, anything, to lift her spirits.

But no matter how much I gave, I still couldn’t compete with Alexander’s fleeting two-month presence.

"You’re right. I don’t deserve to be your father."

"So from now on, I’m not."

I turned away and walked toward the bedroom to pack my things.

Behind me, Maya tore the divorce papers into shreds.

Later that night, after showering, she climbed into bed and wrapped her arms tightly around me from behind, her breath warm against my neck.

"Dylan, please… don’t do this…"

But even after bathing, her skin still carried the lingering scent of smoke.

Tobacco, his brand.

My stomach turned. I shoved her away without hesitation.

"Don’t touch me!"

Caught off guard, she tumbled off the bed, her expression shifting instantly into a cold scowl.

"Dylan, are you trying to ruin everything?"

I sneered, lifted my phone, and snapped a photo of the fresh red marks scattered across her back.

"You really think there’s anything left worth saving?"

In the photo, three bold, unmistakable hickeys stood out against her skin.

Her face drained of color. She scrambled to pull on her nightgown.

"What nonsense are you spouting? They’re mosquito bites!"

I didn’t even bother calling out her lie. I just stared at her in silence.

Seeing me so quiet, her voice softened, gentle and coaxing, the way she always sounded when she wanted to maintain peace.

"Dylan, don’t be so petty. Alexander is just Ivy’s godfather. You’ll always be her real dad… no one can ever take your place."