My Wife's Neglect Ended Our Marriage

With nothing more to say, Georgia left the venue with Reniel in tow.

The atmosphere froze, suffocating and silent.

Forcing a polite smile, I turned to the guests.

“Please... enjoy your meal.”

When we got home, the left side of my face was still burning faintly.

After coaxing Lewis to sleep, I collapsed on the couch. It felt like someone had hollowed out my chest, leaving only a pit of bitterness behind.

Like dozens of lemons were being pounded into my heart—sour, aching, and tight.

Even breathing became a struggle.

It wasn’t until deep into the night that I heard the door creak open.

Georgia walked in and reached to touch my face, but I pulled away.

“I was wrong, Emerson.” She knelt before me, rubbing her cheek lightly against my knee.

“But you were the one who hit someone first.”

“Reniel was drunk—he said something stupid. Why take it seriously?” She smiled, stood up, and brushed her nose against mine like nothing had happened.

“Can’t you just forgive me?”

The moonlight streamed in through the window, and I caught the scent of men’s cologne lingering on her collar.

I picked up the divorce agreement from the table and handed it to her, my voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Georgia, let’s get a divorce.”

“Divorce?” Her smile froze. She took the document and flipped through it again and again.

Once she realized I was serious, she snapped. The papers were flung into my face.

“Are you out of your mind, Emerson?”

“Lewis just turned one, and now you want a divorce?”

“You think this is something you can solve with a couple of words?”

“I know I was wrong today. I hit you. But everything has a cause, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve already apologized. How long are you going to keep acting like a stubborn child?”

“Don’t forget—you’re a father now.”

“Keeping this family together should be your top priority!”

She went on and on, never once noticing the tears falling silently from my eyes.

The sting on my face returned—tears seeping into the cut left by a staple, burning like salt in a wound.

Georgia instinctively reached for her wallet—but her hand stopped, frozen mid-motion.

“You used your last bandage on Reniel, didn’t you?” I asked, my voice was low.

“And you even ordered that bowl of porridge for him, right?”

Her expression shifted, but she answered smoothly,

“So what if I did? That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You want a divorce over a bowl of porridge and a bandage?”

“Emerson, you’re being ridiculous!” Her voice grew louder and louder, waking Lewis in the next room. His cries pierced the silence of the living room.

Watching her frown in irritation, I asked, “Do you even know where his formula and bottles are kept?”

The question caught her off guard. She stood still, speechless.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. Of course she didn’t know.

Since giving birth, Georgia had always kept her distance from Lewis.

She refused to breastfeed during his infancy, and barely even looked at him.

“I hate the way my body looks now. I hate myself since giving birth!”

I could still hear her breakdown like it happened yesterday.

Cradling Lewis’s bottle, I turned to head back into the bedroom. But first, I signed the divorce agreement.

“You should sign it too,” I said without looking at her. “If not, I’ll file for divorce on the grounds of infidelity.”

“And trust me—if it comes to that, you won’t be walking away with much.”

She tried to speak, but I gently cupped her face—the one I used to love so deeply.

“There’s a lingering taste on your lips,” I murmured, “of the red wine Reniel was drinking tonight.”

“What did you two really do? It’s not that hard to guess.”

After putting Lewis back to sleep, I returned to find the living room empty.

Georgia was gone.

The divorce agreement lay shredded in the trash.

On the table, placed neatly, was a luxury boutique shopping bag—the very one she’d been hiding behind her back when she came in.