No More Love, No More Hurt

The house felt pretty empty when I walked in. After showering, I crawled into bed.

My body exhausted but my mind in turmoil.

When did Henry start cheating on me? Was it during my last business trip, or had it begun much earlier?

Another message interrupted my thoughts, displaying a picture of Henry massaging Melissa's feet, accompanied by a taunting message: [Has Henry ever done this for you? I heard your grandma is unwell, such a pity. But I'd rather have Henry accompany me shopping first. Hope you don't mind?]

More messages flooded in: [Wendy, stop pretending. I know you've seen it. I suggest you give up the Mrs. Johnson title as soon as you can, or you'll regret it.]

I didn't reply, turned off my phone, and forced myself to go to sleep.

Later, I heard Henry return. He disappeared into the bathroom for a shower before slipping into bed beside me, his back turned. The bedside lamp remained lit, as was my custom.

In the dim light, I noticed scratches on his back, likely inflicted by Melissa. I couldn't discern if they were accidental or deliberate.

Sitting up, I confronted him, "Henry, you didn't come to the hospital."

His back tensed and he turned to me with a strained smile, trying to change the subject. "Wendy, you're still awake?"

"You didn't come to the hospital."

"I'll be there tomorrow, Wendy," he assured.

I looked at Henry and asked, "Henry, do you love me?"

"Love? I'm working tirelessly to build a better future, all to be worthy of you."

Taking my hand in his, he continued, "Your parents were initially hesitant, but it was Grandma who paved the way for our union. I'll always be grateful for her kindness."

I remembered the day I brought Henry home. My parents had some concerns about his financial situation. They were also concerned that his upbringing might have left him with certain character flaws. They advised me to reconsider.

My father even said that with our family's conditions, I could find any better husband I wanted.

Grandma was the only one who stood by us. With a reassuring pat on Henry's hand, she expressed her faith in my judgment, likening Henry to my grandfather.

My grandfather was a devoted soldier who cherished my grandmother deeply. He perished on the battlefield, serving his country. And Grandma had never entertained the thought of remarrying.

With Grandma's unwavering support, I took the leap and married Henry. She even entrusted him with the sole token of love my grandfather had given her, hoping he would cherish and care for me in the same manner.

As I observed Henry, fervently defending himself, a sense of weariness washed over me.

The boy who once trembled with excitement at the prospect of marrying me seemed like a distant memory. What was the point of arguing now?

Ignoring Henry's attempts to justify himself, I looked into his eyes and silently resolved to end our marriage as soon as my grandmother recovered from her illness.

However, life had a way of thwarting our plans and often leading us down unexpected paths.