Old Love Falls Apart

On the eve of the tenth anniversary, Irina Middleton, my wife, who had always been unromantic, suddenly suggested taking wedding photos again.

She said she wanted to make up for my regrets in my youth and my hard work over the years. But at the celebration, someone painted my photo with the word 'kept man'.

Her young assistant cried and tried to explain, "Adrien, I don't know how this happened. Maybe people just assume that the one who isn't loved is the kept man," he said. I saw the paint still on his hands and sneered as I smashed the wedding photo frame.

The assistant then posted a picture on his social media, showing off a million-dollar watch and a photo of him with my wife in our wedding attire. The caption read: [Love is clear, we are the most compatible pair.]

As I scrolled through the divorce papers, I left a comment under his post: [Respect and congratulations—indeed, scum and trash are a match made in heaven!]

——

Just as I finished reading the divorce agreement, Irina, my wife, called. In all the years we've been married, this was her first call.

Her tone was sharp and filled with contempt, "What are you fussing about again? Chris made an innocent mistake, so why are you making a big deal out of it? You're in your thirties. Is it necessary to bully someone younger than you?"

"Hurry up and apologize to Chris, or else …" Otherwise, Irina would give me the silent treatment. She would cut off my allowance. She would kick me out of the house on a stormy night.

I had been through all of that before. In the past, I endured and compromised for love. But the moment she cheated and allowed that pretty boy to provoke me, all my love and memories vanished.

I spoke slowly, "Irina, let's get a divorce. I agree, you two are more suited for each other."

Irina paused for three seconds, then let out a cold laugh, "Divorce? You think you're worthy of bringing up divorce with me? Take a look in the mirror. Who would want a loser like you, a man who's accomplished nothing and lives off a woman? If you have any self-respect, get over here and apologize to Chris!"

I didn't want to argue, so I hung up. What self-respect did I have left?

She had trampled on my dignity to make her lover happy, turning me, the rightful husband, into a complete joke.

I remembered when we got married, we had no money, no wedding banquet and no wedding photos. We couldn't afford the photos, leaving that as an unhealed regret.

She had promised to make up for it, but little did I know she would make it up to another man. Ten years of marriage, starting from nothing.

This woman, the love of my life since high school, had become the deepest wound in my heart. Swallowing the bitterness, I contacted a lawyer to discuss the division of our assets.

Midway through the call, Irina returned and said, "Who are you on the phone with? Why haven't you made dinner yet?"

She stepped closer and the strong smell of cigarettes wafted over. I frowned and took a step back.

Her face immediately darkened when she asked, "What's the matter? Feeling guilty? Adrien, are you chatting with some woman behind my back?"

"Is this your way of getting revenge, or are you just too lonely? I'm the one supporting you and you're using my money to flirt with other women!" After speaking, Irina grabbed my phone and threw it to the ground.

I picked it up and a long, glaring crack ran across the screen, just like the state of our marriage. Irina looked down at me with disdain.

She said arrogantly, "Fine, I won't argue with you this time. Let's just call it even. Now go make dinner."

Irina always had double standards. She could spend nights out with Chris, going on trips and drinking. But I wasn't allowed to say a single word to another woman.

In her eyes, no matter what conflict arose between us, it was always my fault. I was always the one who had to apologize.

But this time, I didn't want to bow down and I didn't want to continue in this degrading, hopeless marriage. Seeing me lying on the couch, unmoved, Irina was about to explode with anger.

But then she saw the scar on my leg, left from when I saved her years ago. She sighed softly, "Adrien, that's enough. Isn't it just a set of wedding photos? I've already had the store send over a new set. What more do you want?"

Just moments ago, I had contacted the photographer. The store owner told me that Irina not only took the most expensive wedding photos with Chris but also shot an intimate boudoir photo set.

Chris had said he wanted to 'capture beauty,' but what he was capturing was moments with someone else's wife.

I turned to look at Irina as she was taking off her coat. She was a picky person who paid attention to every detail. That's why I ironed her shirts neatly every morning.

But today, her lipstick was smudged and her shirt was wrinkled. Clearly, she had been in a heated encounter with Chris not long ago.

Suddenly, I felt nauseous and rushed to the bathroom to vomit.