Never Want to See You Again, Husband

When Logan saw the name flashing on the screen, his expression stiffened for just a moment.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the message header. Two glaring characters stood out: "Little Secretary."

Logan cleared his throat softly and angled his phone away, his fingers tapping across the screen with calm practice. But I saw it—the flicker of desire in his eyes.

Sure enough, the very next second, he turned to me with a look of feigned guilt.

"Baby, I'm sorry. Today is our anniversary, and I should've spent the whole day with you. But the company—"

I cut him off before he could finish weaving another lie.

"I understand. Work comes first."

Relief washed over his face. Normally, before leaving, he would give me a kiss goodbye. But this time, he offered only a perfunctory hug before turning away.

I stood still for a moment, then quietly instructed the assistant to handle the remaining guests and followed the direction he had left.

He didn't stop until he reached the underground parking lot.

The moment his car door opened, Angela shed her mask of professionalism and threw herself into his arms, lips pouting like a spoiled child.

"Mr. Miranda, that firework show made me so jealous."

Helpless affection softened his features. He tapped the tip of her nose with a finger.

"Didn't I set off fireworks for your birthday just a few days ago? What's there to be jealous about?"

"I promised you—as long as you behave and don't expose us to my wife, everything she has, you'll have too."

His words made my breath hitch.

Five days ago, the skies over the southern district were lit up with a thirty-minute firework display. That night, he'd claimed he was working overtime. I even snapped a photo and teasingly sent it to him, joking about which lovesick fool would go to such lengths to make his beauty smile.

Now I realized—that fool was him.

And I... was the greatest fool.

Angela let out a playful hum, tracing circles across his chest with her finger.

"Am I not even allowed to be jealous?"

He caught her restless hand, his voice lowering, rough with desire.

"Didn't you say you had something good to show me?"

With a wicked smile, she yanked on his tie, pulling their bodies flush together.

"Hehe, but Mr. Miranda has to open it himself... I guarantee it'll make you lose control."

His gaze darkened. In one swift motion, he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the car.

Angela gasped in surprise, but the rest of her sounds were smothered by his hungry kiss.

The car windows tinted upward, and soon after, the vehicle began to rock rhythmically.

Leaning against a cold concrete pillar, I could no longer hold back the tears. They streamed down, splattering onto the floor in heavy drops.

I had already witnessed their betrayal yesterday. Yet even now, seeing it again, the pain in my chest throbbed uncontrollably, raw and merciless.

When we first married, Logan had sworn to spend every anniversary at my side. But now, just one message from Angela was enough for him to abandon that vow. Was he truly that intoxicated with her?

I shut my eyes, forcing down the storm of emotions threatening to consume me.

Just three more days.

Three more days, and all of this would finally be over.

I didn't return to the banquet hall. Instead, I went straight home.

That night, half-asleep, I was jolted awake by the sound of a door slamming open.

Logan stood at the entrance, tension etched across his features. The moment he saw me, his shoulders sagged with visible relief.

"Baby, why didn't you tell me you came back? Do you know I nearly went mad when I couldn't find you at the banquet?"

I glanced at the clock on my phone—3 a.m. I came home at 9 p.m.

It took him six whole hours of indulging with Angela before he remembered to come looking for me.

How laughable.