My Wife's Secondhand Habit Exposed Her Affair

I was frozen in place, an incredibly eerie feeling bubbling inside me. Who was Iris talking to? Was she buying a brand new refrigerator for someone else?

I stared long and hard at the secondhand fridge, a wave of baseless loathing surging within me.

…

July in the South was sweltering, with temperatures almost hitting 140°F. The old apartment we rented had terrible insulation, and our three-year-old son, Flynn, broke out in a heat rash from the heat. My heart ached for him.

Since my birthday was just around the corner, I told Iris that I wanted a new air conditioner. So, she returned with one at 3:00 pm.

A glimmer of joy welled up inside me. I hadn't expected someone as frugal as her to agree so readily this time. When I got closer, my brows immediately knitted.

This air conditioner was a new model—a high-end unit from a major brand—and even the vent blades looked fairly new. However, the outer casing was revoltingly filthy.

Not only were there large patches of unidentified black stains, but several pieces of chewed gum were stuck to it. It even emitted a sour, putrid stench, as if someone had intentionally dumped trash all over it.

"Why is this air conditioner so filthy?" Pinching my nose, I took a step back.

Iris set the air conditioner down on the floor and kicked off her high heels. "It's secondhand. You can't expect every seller to be a clean freak. Don't let the dirty exterior fool you; the internal mechanics are brand new. Can't you just grab a rag and wipe it down yourself?"

Having said her piece, she sprawled out on the couch and started playing with her phone.

So, it was another secondhand appliance. Even my birthday present didn't deserve to be new.

Unfortunately, I was poorly educated and could only earn money through physical labor. Iris not only earned a higher salary than me, but she had also given me a son. So, I should be more considerate of her.

With that thought in mind, I endured the sharp pain in my lower back and crouched on the floor, scrubbing away those stubborn stains and bits of chewing gum.

My back injury was a chronic issue left over from my younger days working on construction sites. Usually, if I stayed bent over for more than ten minutes, it would start to sting like I was being stabbed with needles.

That day, I spent a full two hours scrubbing the air conditioner. My back was killing me, and I could barely stand upright, but I finally brought the exterior back to its original white.

"Alright. Let's get it installed," I panted heavily, leaning against the wall for support.

Iris called someone over to mount the air conditioner on the wall. With a beep, the unit started up. However, the moment the blades opened, a cloud of white powder with a pungent, chemical odor sprayed out.

I coughed so violently that tears streamed down my cheeks, and I instinctively covered my mouth and nose. In the blink of an eye, the strange powder scattered into every corner of the room. Even Flynn, who was lying in his crib, was covered in a thin layer of it.

Flynn choked on the powder and burst into heart-wrenching sobs. I hurried over and picked him up, only to hear Iris' furious bellow.

"Dylan Holt, are you blind? I told you to clean the air conditioner, and you didn't even wipe the dust inside the vent? Are you happy now that the whole house is covered in dust, you useless piece of shit?"

I was so enraged that I thought my lungs were going to burst. "This isn't dust. It's some kind of chemical powder! Who hides this much powder inside an air conditioner? Clearly, someone dumped this in there on purpose!"

"Cut the crap!" Her eyes flickered. "So what if a secondhand air conditioner has a little dust? You're just bitter that I didn't buy you a new one, so you're intentionally picking a fight. You made this mess, so clean it up on your own!"

Right after saying that, she slammed the door and went into the bedroom.

As I held our wailing son, the agonizing pain in my back mingled with the fury in my chest. My knuckles cracked as I clenched my fists.

However, the very next moment, I realized something was wrong with Flynn. Large patches of red rashes had broken out across his body. His face was severely swollen, and his breathing had grown rapid and shallow.

"Iris, hurry up and open the door! Flynn is having an allergic reaction; he can't breathe! We need to rush him to the hospital right now!" I pounded on the bedroom door like a madman.

Iris opened the door reluctantly. Then, she took one look at Flynn and frowned. "Why's he so sensitive? It's just a rash. Can't you just apply some lotion on it?"

"He's going into shock! Hurry up and get the car keys," I bellowed, my eyes bloodshot.

Noticing that the situation was indeed dire, Iris finally grabbed the car keys and prepared to head out, grumbling and cursing under her breath all the while.