Never Want to See You Again, Husband

On the day of our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband's friend leaned toward him with a grin and asked in French, "How does your little assistant taste?"

My husband, ever the considerate man in public, handed me a slice of my favorite cantaloupe before replying just as casually in the same language, "Very young. Very tender."

"Remember to keep this a secret from my wife. If she ever found out, she'd surely leave me."

The group erupted in laughter, each of them swearing they'd keep his secret.

I stood there, my fingers tightening so hard around the wine glass that my knuckles turned white.

They didn't know—I understood French perfectly.

And I had already long known about my husband's mistress.

But I never confronted him, never shed tears or created a scene. Instead, I quietly submitted an application to the country's secluded research institute.

In three days, I would do exactly as he wished—disappear from his life forever.

——

From the corner of his eye, Logan noticed that I hadn't touched the cantaloupe. Concern flickered across his gaze as he asked me in English, "Baby, what's wrong?"

Looking at the man who appeared to have only me in his heart, I felt nothing but irony.

Moments ago he had been laughing about his mistress, and now he could look at me with such devoted affection, as if I were his entire world.

I couldn't help but wonder—just how far his lies could go?

"Nothing much," I answered lightly. "What were you talking about just now?"

Logan pinched my cheek with practiced tenderness, smiling indulgently.

"Business matters abroad. You don't like hearing about work, so we switched to French."

He must have forgotten—or perhaps never cared—that I had spent time studying in France during university.

The air around me suddenly felt suffocating. I pushed him gently aside.

"You all continue chatting. I'll go take a walk."

Without waiting for his response, I walked straight toward the doors of the banquet hall.

As I left, whispers followed me in hushed tones.

"That's Mrs. Miranda. She's really lucky. Not only was her wedding the event of the year back then, but every anniversary Mr. Miranda holds a grand celebration for her. She's truly blessed."

"Exactly. Why couldn't I meet a man like that?"

Once, those words of envy would have filled me with sweetness.

But now, my heart was nothing but still water.

No one knew that the man who supposedly loved me to the point of madness had already betrayed me.

Just yesterday, I had planned to surprise him with his anniversary gift ahead of time. I sneaked into his office without telling anyone, intending to give him a pleasant shock.

But while waiting, half-drowsy inside the storage cabinet, I was jolted awake by the sound of heavy breathing.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the man who once swore to love only me pressing his assistant, Angela, against the floor-to-ceiling window. Their bare bodies writhed against the spotless glass, leaving smudged traces of their betrayal.

They lingered there, entangled, for three full hours before finally dressing and leaving.

I couldn't remember how I survived those three hours—only the descent from despair and heartbreak into numbness.

By the time I walked out of that building, I knew my marriage with Logan was over.

A sudden ringtone snapped me from my thoughts.

"Arissa, I've already submitted your name to the research institute. In three days, someone will come to take you. Use these last few days to say goodbye to your family."

The word family made my grip on the phone tighten.

Ever since my parents' accident four years ago, my only family had been Logan.

But now, he had betrayed me.

And that meant I had no family left at all.