My Wife Worked Overtime, I Asked Divorce

Sensing the heavy atmosphere around him, my son puckered his little lips and started crying loudly.

“Amara, a man like that is narrow-minded and heartless—don’t waste your feelings on him!”

The crowd saw that I wouldn’t listen to reason and they all trembled with anger, fists clenched, as if they wanted to beat me to death right there.

Just then, my mother arrived after being notified. She spoke earnestly, “Zayden, Amara has done so much for this family. We were dirt poor and when your father broke his leg and was hospitalized, it was Amara who paid his medical bills.”

“She’s been so good to our family. If you dare to divorce her, I’ll disown you as my son!”

“Mom, don’t be fooled by her.”

I gave my mom a small smile, then turned to Amara. “Then tell me, why have you been working overtime for more than half a year without earning a single cent—and instead spent tens of thousands?”

At my words, a flicker of panic flashed in Amara’s eyes, but it quickly disappeared.

“I already told you, didn’t I? The project is still in the early stages. Once the product starts selling well, Sania will definitely pay me my salary.”

“If you don’t like me working overtime, then I’ll just stay home and take care of you and the child from now on.”

My mother looked relieved and continued to persuade me. “Amara is so understanding. Where could you ever find such a good wife?”

I shook my head. “Mom, stay out of it. No matter what, I’m getting a divorce.”

“Bastard!” My mother slapped me hard. Half my face was red and swollen from the pain.

“You're such an ungrateful son-in-law — I’ll kill you!” My father-in-law grabbed a shovel and smashed it down on my knee.

“Kill him!”

“That’s what that bastard deserves!” People cheered.

“Zayden, are you okay?”

Amara pushed the crowd aside, worried, helped me up and checked the wound on my leg.

“She was such a good wife and he didn’t know how to cherish her,” someone sighed.

I looked disgusted and pushed Amara away. “Stop pretending!”

Amara looked aggrieved. “Honey, please, I really don’t want a divorce. Our son can’t grow up without his father.”

“I don’t care. We must get divorced.” I turned and walked away.

“You really mean it? Then I’ll act as if I never had a son like you!” My mother stomped her feet in anger.

My heart ached.

I had always been a filial son, but this time, I couldn’t give in. I had to get divorced — I couldn’t live like this another day.

“Amara, I’ll have someone send you the divorce papers.”

Without looking back, I walked away quickly.

Behind me came Amara’s heart-wrenching cries, the kind that could break anyone’s heart.

I returned to the hospital where Amara had stayed before. There were things I needed to confirm. By chance, I ran into an old classmate. With her help, the truth could soon come to light.

[Honey, what did I do wrong? Why do you insist on divorcing me? Are you still angry?]

[My son and I can’t live without you. We’ll be waiting for you at home.]

After leaving the hospital, I found a small inn and had just checked in when Amara sent me that message.

I sneered, blocking all her contacts one by one, then started drafting the divorce agreement.

The next day, I mailed the divorce papers to Amara.

But she didn’t even look at them — she tore them up right away.

Sania was furious and posted the whole story online.

Soon, the internet exploded with anger and I was trending on the hot search list.

“Damn it! She’s such a good wife. She didn’t mind that he was poor, even paid for the house and her father-in-law’s surgery — and he still doesn’t appreciate her?”

“She worked overtime so hard and just didn’t have time to sleep with him and that’s why he wants a divorce?”

“I bet he’s cheating. He just made up an excuse to dump her.”