The Unforgivable Wife and Marriage

Tina lived in the same community as us. She invited me to go back with her, but I declined.

Tina admired me, and I didn't want to develop feelings with the opposite sex that I couldn't handle.

Deborah was the complete opposite. Ever since Terry joined the crew, there had been no boundaries between them.

After going home and washing up, I felt tipsy and planned to go to bed.

My phone rang.

"Honey, how to make hangover soup? Terry is throwing up badly," she said.

Deborah was frantic on the other end of the phone.

"I don't know," I replied.

"Honey! Stop messing around, will you? Just teach me quickly so I can make it for him and come home. Otherwise, you'll be waiting for me until midnight again," she complained.

"The hangover soup you used to make for me. It's simple, right? And how do you cook the oatmeal?" She asked again.

"Just look it up online. There are tons of tutorials. Take your time to learn. I won't wait for you. I'm going to bed," I said, hanging up the phone.

I busied myself in the kitchen while she just needed to open her mouth. Of course, it was easy for her.

Fake drunkenness threw her into a panic, and here she was, in the middle of the night, acting as a caretaker for her beloved. Disgusting!

When I had gastroenteritis on set and was vomiting and having diarrhea, ending up in the hospital, she didn't worry at all.

Well, it wasn't her fault. She was busy disinfecting and bandaging Terry, who had deliberately scratched himself while on wires.

I begged her to take me to the hospital, but she said she had no time for me and fussed over Terry's hand like a mother with her son.

When I was discharged, Terry's wound had long since healed without a trace.

I must have been out of my mind to teach her how to take care of another man. This time, no one could force me to lower my head.

Her claim that she was coming home was just a lie.

I wouldn't be a lovesick fool waiting for her to come home anymore.

In the past, no matter how late it was, I would wait for Deborah to come home and cuddle up to sleep together.

Now, I slept alone in the big bed, without her crowding me to the edge or stealing the covers. I slept particularly well.

Suddenly, a loud crash woke me up.

I opened the door to find Deborah bringing Terry home.

"What are you doing in the middle of the night?" I sulked.

"Thomas Howard, what do you mean? I come home in the middle of the night, and you don't wait up or leave the lights on? Terry and I nearly tripped in the dark!" she said.

What right did she have to demand I leave the lights on for her and her ex-boyfriend?

Should I also hand them water and play music while they slept together?

"I told you I was going to bed. I thought you weren't coming back," I countered.

Deborah thought I was explaining, so her tone softened.

"Since you're awake, make some oatmeal for Terry. The one you're best at will do," she said.

I glanced at the living room, and my temples throbbed.

Their clothes and shoes were thrown carelessly on the floor, and worst of all, Terry had tossed his stinky socks next to my water glass before collapsing into sleep.

"Thomas! I've been calling you for ages. Why aren't you moving?" Deborah sulked.

"Why should I make oatmeal for him? You can take him out to eat," I replied.

"No restaurant has food as good as yours, and they're all closed anyway. Plus, he loves your oatmeal. It only takes you two minutes to make. Don't you know he's been throwing up bile? He has stomach issues," she said.

I couldn't help but laugh in anger at her nagging.

"Why should I care?" I replied.

But this explained why she had insisted on bringing breakfast to the set recently. She never got tired of oatmeal.

Turned out she was feeding her ex-boyfriend with the breakfast I made.

Unbelievable!

"Deborah, if I were you, I wouldn't have the nerve to come home, let alone say such things," I said.

"It's just something you can do in two minutes. It's easy for you," she said.

Her face turned cold, and she threw her bag at my face.

The hard metal decorations cut my face, and a sharp pain hit me. I touched my face and found it was bleeding.

Terry, who had been pretending to sleep on the sofa, jumped up and scolded me, "Thomas, is this how you usually treat Deborah?"

I couldn't be bothered to argue with them and went straight back to my room to sleep.