Three Years of Marriage: My Wife’s Boundaries Shattered My Beliefs

When I confronted Lily, she slammed our dirty, crumpled wedding photo to the floor.

I took a glance at it.

It only showed Lily, edited to highlight her alone, for the reason that she wanted to flaunt her prettiest statue.

Now it had turned into a symbolic of our fractured marriage.

"Andrew, really? It was just David's birthday. Are you that insecure to trash our photo over it? You know it's my favorite."

David looked on, clearly amused, waiting to see me grovel.

This time, he was bound to be disappointed.

I responded, "No sense in keeping what's already broken."

Lily bristled, poised to lash out again.

David stepped in, his hands on her shoulders, "Come on, Lily, no need for drama over a photo. We'll make new memories, take new pictures."

His words eased her mood, and she smiled at him, "You're always so thoughtful, unlike someone who only stirs up trouble over every little thing, making our home a battleground."

She shot me a glare and then turned to David, "David, didn't you bring something for him?"

David nodded, pulling out some pills, "Got these abroad. They work miracles for certain, um, issues. Might help with your stubborn situation too."

He emphasized "stubborn" with a knowing smirk.

I stared at Lily, waiting for some sort of explanation.

But she only had eyes for David.

Reflecting on the past, I felt utterly foolish.

A year back, Lily suggested a trip—if I couldn't go, she'd go with David.

Madly in love, I couldn't pass up an opportunity to grow closer.

Then the accident happened, and a shard of metal tore through me as I shielded her.

She escaped unscathed; I was lucky to survive but left impotent.

Moved by my sacrifice, she cared for me for months.

She had been avoiding David during that time.

But old habits die hard—they were soon inseparable, flaunting it before me.

Worse yet, she told David about my condition, a subject I deemed off-limits.

I fixed my gaze on Lily.

"You know this matters to me the most."

After a moment of pause, she scoffed, "Andrew, your issue isn't a secret. David's been great, bringing back special meds from abroad. You ought to be thankful."

I replied icily, "Remember, I suffered that injury saving you."

"But the fact remains—you're not up to par."

David feigned sympathy, "Sorry to butt in, but you can't go on like this, right? For Lily's sake, maybe it's time to get better."

His tone dripped with condescension. I fought the urge to punch him.

Lily looked on, evidently expecting my gratitude.

She didn't grasp the depth of my hurt.

They cavorted behind my back, then casually sprinkled salt on my wounds.

Ridiculous.

"Lily, we need to divorce."