My cheating wife froze in shock when I calmly said, 'We need to finalize the divorce by Friday...

My wife, Sherry, mistakenly believed that I was completely unaware of her actions. Perhaps she thought I was naive or lacked the insight to notice, especially regarding her growing bond with her colleague, Todd. She was utterly confident that I would passively tolerate her behavior and allow her to deceive me while she pursued her affair. What she didn't realize was that I had been harboring suspicions about her for a long time. I had noticed various changes in her behavior—unmistakable signs of infidelity: frequent lateness from work, a sudden and provocative wardrobe update, a newfound assertiveness, and a

lack of intimacy. These signs did not escape my attention. Our shared hobbies were fading, and my interest in the things we once held dear was waning. Attempts to address this with Sherry proved futile, as my concerns were repeatedly dismissed. She claimed that any issues were rooted in my own insecurity and possessiveness. Left with no other choice, I decided to enlist the services of a private investigator. From the beginning of our relationship, I had made it clear that infidelity was something I would never tolerate. Over our ten-year marriage, Sherry had repeatedly assured me of her loyalty,

so sitting in the office of private investigator Jake Sloan, hearing his conclusions filled me with a mix of relief and dread. When Sloan confirmed that Sherry wasn't yet physically unfaithful, I felt a fleeting sense of relief, but it didn't last long. He cautiously explained that while their relationship hadn't turned physical, my wife was emotionally entangled with Todd. For me, this was just as devastating; emotional infidelity was still betrayal in my eyes. The private investigator's report confirmed my worst fears: Sherry and Todd were together exclusively. Day after day, they openly displayed affection—holding hands, sitting closely, and

occasionally embracing. Sloan had provided numerous photos of them in tight embraces and, in some instances, even exchanging kisses. Rage consumed me as I stared at the evidence. Not only did they frequently share meals, but they also extended their work hours without legitimate reasons. It seemed they were deliberately avoiding returning to their respective spouses, monopolizing as much of their time together as possible. The detective went further, revealing that he had accessed Sherry's emails and messages. Although I knew this was illegal and unusable in divorce proceedings, I couldn't ignore the damning implications of what he found. In

our state, proving adultery for divorce was a complex process, but a no-fault divorce required no such evidence. My intent wasn't legal retribution; I simply wanted the truth. Sloan refused to provide me with copies of the messages or even let me view them directly. Instead, he summarized their contents. He assured me that my wife had never spoken ill of me, even when Todd had tried to belittle me. Sherry refused to indulge him in this regard, which I suppose was something of a small consolation. Their exchanges revealed a romantic connection, though neither explicitly expressed love. Their conversations

were deeply personal, bordering on explicit. Todd even shared photos of his girlfriend with Sherry, which she seemed to appreciate. However, as far as Sloan could tell, Sherry hadn't reciprocated by sending any explicit photos of her own—at least not yet. As I sat in Sloan's office contemplating my next steps, he delivered the most devastating news yet: Todd's wife was planning to visit her mother's house in the country for three days. During this time, Todd and Sherry saw an opportunity to finally be together in an intimate setting. The only obstacle was my presence; they were unsure how

to spend the night together while I was still in the picture. Knowing I had no intention of leaving the city, their challenge seemed insurmountable. Yet, they were devising strategies to overcome this. One idea involved Sherry fabricating a story about going away for a girl's weekend. However, she hesitated, fearing that one of her friends might accidentally expose the lie. Reluctant to involve others, she abandoned this plan. Instead, they considered forcing me to leave the city. I bitterly recalled how Sherry had recently suggested organizing a golf trip with my friends, a proposal I declined due to my

lack of interest. In the end, they settled on a different approach: honesty. Todd was convinced that over time, I would become a compliant husband, willing to tolerate their affair in order to keep Sherry as my devoted spouse. He manipulated her into believing that their relationship would somehow improve our marriage—including our intimacy. Todd persuaded her that all she had to do was inform me of her intentions, and I would begrudgingly accept the situation. It was clear that Todd had no idea who I really was. Yet, what shocked me most was that Sherry had succumbed to Todd's

manipulative tactics. She should have known that I would never tolerate such behavior. If she didn't understand this, it only reinforced what Sloan had mentioned: that Sherry was mentally unstable. Reluctantly, I agreed with his assessment and headed home, asking him to continue monitoring Sherry's messages and to inform me of any updates. On Friday, Sloan contacted me to share that Sherry was planning to speak with me the following Monday after work. She intended to announce her decision to go on a date with Todd the preceding Friday night. Their plans were carefully laid out: dinner, dancing, and an

overnight stay at a hotel, after which Sherry would prudently return to me by Saturday morning. Sherry and Todd rehearsed her entire speech meticulously, trying to convince themselves that I would comply with her request. They anticipated my initial reaction would be anger and frustration, but Sherry was determined to assure me that this would be an isolated incident, despite knowing full well that wasn't the case. To further manipulate me, she planned to present this betrayal as an opportunity for growth in our marriage, as a gesture of appreciation for my understanding. Even planned to offer intimacy afterward, assuming

that after months of abstinence, I would be eager to accept such a pathetic consolation prize. The sheer audacity of their calculations disgusted me. Sherry and Todd smugly referred to this meeting as an intervention, convinced they had thought of everything. But I had only 48 hours to prepare for this so-called intervention, and I firmly decided that it would not unfold the way they envisioned. Over the weekend, I carefully worked through countless scenarios, trying to determine if there was any way to save our marriage. At the same time, I wrestled with whether I even wanted to fix

it. Uncertainty clouded my mind as I reflected on my feelings for Sherry and the life we had built together. In the early years of our marriage, Sherry and I were consumed with joy; we shared everything—our passions, experiences, and dreams. She was not only my closest companion but also my most passionate lover. But over time, all of that seemed to vanish into thin air. Perhaps it was the inevitable course of life, where permanence is a myth, or perhaps my idea of marriage was too romanticized and traditional. I had always envisioned us as partners navigating life together,

united in overcoming its challenges. Both of us had experienced failed marriages in the past, which made me question whether the problem lay within ourselves or with the institution of marriage itself. Was it realistic to expect people to sustain the same emotions, desires, and passions over time in a world dominated by fleeting attention spans, rapid progress, digital distractions, and the constant pursuit of instant gratification? Perhaps marriage, like dinosaurs and CDs, had become obsolete. For a brief moment, I even considered letting Sherry be with Todd if that was truly what she wanted. But then reality hit me

like a ton of bricks. I wasn't going to let her take advantage of me. Maybe my feelings for her had faded, but I refused to allow her or Todd to manipulate and humiliate me further. I resolved to confront the situation head-on, to stand my ground, and to take control of the narrative. On Monday, shortly after lunch, Sherry called me. "Hi, Sherry," I said cautiously. "Is everything all right? You rarely call me at work these days. I hope nothing's wrong." "Hi, honey," she replied sweetly. Honey? Had she used the same term of endearment for Todd? Her

casual tone belied the seriousness of what I knew was coming. "If it's nothing special," she said lightly, "I just wanted to make sure you'd be home on time tonight. There's something very important I need to discuss with you, so I really ask you to be present." "Of course," I replied evenly, "that's perfect, actually, because I also have important news to share with you." There was a brief pause, and I could sense her curiosity through the silence. Finally, she asked, "Important news? What kind of news?" I assured her I'd tell her in the evening and ended

the conversation quickly, explaining that I was engrossed in finishing my monthly report. "I need to wrap this up so I can leave on time. I'll see you tonight," I said before hanging up. As soon as the call ended, I walked to my boss's office to request the rest of the day off. Fortunately, he didn't object. I had preparations to make. When Sherry arrived home that evening, I was seated at the kitchen table waiting. I had prepared a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and set out two glasses, keeping my demeanor calm despite the storm of emotions

inside me. I heard the garage door open and felt a wave of nervousness and anger as her footsteps approached. Despite my inner turmoil, I remained composed. Sherry entered the room, casually tossing her keys and purse onto the table. I felt an immediate sense of relief when I saw she was alone; Todd wasn't with her, which spared me the unnecessary escalation his presence would have caused. She looked at me, slightly surprised by my calmness, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if she was second-guessing her decision. But the smug confidence in her expression returned quickly, and

I knew she was about to deliver the speech she had rehearsed so carefully with Todd. The stage was set. Little did she know this wasn't going to play out the way she had planned. With a smile on my face, I greeted Sherry warmly, using the same affectionate tone she had earlier. "Hi, honey," I said. "Welcome home. Would you like some time to settle in before we talk, or should we get straight to the point?" My directness caught her off guard. It seemed she had expected a gradual approach, not such an immediate confrontation. But I was

determined to take control of the situation. Sherry had meticulously planned everything she wanted to say, so my intention was to disrupt her flow and keep her on her toes. Sherry sat down across from me, visibly surprised. "I didn’t expect you to be waiting here," she said. "But I guess if we start earlier, we can finish sooner and get on with our evening. Can I share my news with you first?" "If you don't mind," I asked, my tone urgent. She hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure of what I was about to say. "No, it's okay," she

finally replied. "Would you like a glass of wine?" I offered, not giving her a chance to respond before quickly pouring two glasses. I placed one in front of her, and without hesitation, she picked it up and drank half of it in one gulp. As soon as she set the glass down, I refilled it. "So lately, my mind has been preoccupied with one thing," I began, my voice steady. "I'll be blunt; there's no need to prolong this conversation." I paused deliberately, building tension. Sherry leaned in. In silence, her eyes fixed on me. "What's the matter?" she

asked, her voice tinged with unease. Calmly and without embellishment, I said, "I want a divorce." The words hung in the air, and I waited patiently as their meaning sank in. It took about three seconds for Sherry to register what I had said; her expression shifted rapidly from confusion to shock and then to fear. It was as if the ground had been ripped out from beneath her. Terror gripped her, but she didn't dare ask the reason outright; her thoughts were written all over her face: her affair with Todd, the lies, the betrayal. She was unraveling before

my eyes. "Why?" she finally stammered, her voice trembling. The words felt like a dagger as I spoke them: "I don't love you anymore." Her face twisted in confusion as though she was trying to comprehend my statement. "What are you saying?" she gasped. The shock in her voice made it clear she wasn't prepared for this moment. "I've stopped loving you," I repeated, my voice calm but resolute. Deep down, I knew exactly when my love for her began to fade; I had suppressed this realization for as long as I could, but now there was no avoiding it.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice on the verge of tears. "Do you remember the early days of our marriage?" I asked, leaning forward slightly. "Do you remember how we spent every minute together? Whether it was a trip to the store, watching a movie, or just strolling through the mall—we were inseparable. It felt like we couldn't bear to be apart." Sherry nodded, her expression softening as she reflected on the past. "Yes, I remember," she murmured, "even when we were busy, we made time for each other." I continued, "We had lunch together at least twice

a week. I would spend my days longing for your presence, counting the hours until I could kiss you and feel your touch. We had common hobbies, even when it wasn't something I was particularly interested in, like those pottery classes you insisted I join." A faint smile crossed her face as she remembered. "You didn't even like pottery," she said quietly. "It wasn't about the pottery," I said. "It was about being with you. Watching you create something with such enthusiasm brought me joy. And the same goes for those stubborn Christmas village buildings we painted together. Do you

remember? We bought about twelve unpainted houses and turned them into a beautiful display. It was painstaking work, but it didn't feel like work because we did it together." Sherry nodded again, her eyes welling up with tears. "Yes, I remember," she whispered. I pressed on, not giving her room to escape the memories. "And the evenings we spent at the table painting each tiny tile. You always insisted your creations were better than mine, and those nights coloring the posters you brought back from your trip to Myrtle Beach. Do you remember how much fun we had? This was

before adult coloring books were even a thing. We had an extensive collection of colorful pens, and we spent hours bringing those images to life." I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in. "But like those pens, Sherry, our love eventually dried up and withered away." Sherry's shoulders slumped, and she shrank defensively. "But I still love you," she protested weakly, her voice cracking. I ignored her attempt at a rebuttal and continued, "Our friends used to envy us. They told us how lucky we were to have such a strong bond. We were inseparable. Do you remember

those long walks hand in hand, even when it was for something as mundane as buying a new trimmer? We couldn't get enough of each other." Her tears were falling freely now, but I wasn't finished. "Sherry, I don't know when it happened exactly, but somewhere along the way, we lost that connection. Maybe it was inevitable; maybe we let life get in the way, or maybe we stopped trying. But whatever the reason, it's gone now, and I can't pretend anymore." Her sobs grew louder, but I sat there, steady and unyielding. This wasn't the conversation she had rehearsed

with Todd. This wasn't the intervention she had imagined. The reality of the situation was crashing down on her, and for the first time, she realized she wasn't in control. Standing in line at the hardware store, I remembered how you always accompanied me. And when it came time for you to shop for clothes, I reluctantly tagged along, waiting patiently outside the fitting rooms. Deep down, I knew you hated me being there; it was evident in the way you buried yourself in your phone, barely paying attention to the clothes you tried on or to my presence. But

that didn't matter to me. I found you beautiful in everything you wore. I wasn't there for the clothes; I was there for you. I could have stayed home watching sports, but instead, I chose to be with you. I remembered how we used to discuss how other women in the neighborhood spent their time at bingo nights or hen parties, but you never expressed an interest in joining them. You explained your reasons for avoiding those activities, and they touched me deeply. As Sherry wiped a tear from her cheek, the memory returned to her. "Yes, I remember," she

said softly. "You said you'd rather spend time with me than with anyone else." We often climbed under the covers and watched "You're Becoming a Man." "I love that movie," she added, her voice trembling as she fought back tears. "We must have watched it hundreds of times," I remarked, filling her glass again. Sherry's eyes lit with determination as she declared, "I still want to watch it together." The thought of divorce haunted her, and she finally confessed, "I don't want this to happen." sip before placing it down on the table, clearly overwhelmed by our conversation. "I always

imagined us growing old together, embarking on new adventures, taking cooking or ballroom dancing lessons, or simply enjoying each other's company in bed, lost in the pages of a good book. But now we're drifting apart," Sherry reflected on our situation, her voice tinged with sadness. "I can't even say when it all started." I looked into her eyes, my voice heavy with emotion. "Our daily routine changed so radically. We used to have dinner together two or three times a week, but now it's become a rarity. The reason for those changes, Sherry, was you. You once told me

you didn't have time for lunch with me outside the office—that was a lie. You had time for lunch, but you spent it with someone else." Her eyes flickered with guilt, but she remained silent. Gradually, we stopped having lunch together altogether; I started dining with my colleagues instead, and over time I began to enjoy their company—perhaps too much. "I'm not saying this to blame you entirely. I just didn't want this conversation to turn into a confrontation or a lecture." I paused for a moment, carefully choosing my words. "Our priorities shifted. Coming home early to spend time

together lost its importance. We started working later and later, and when we finally got home, we were distant." "You asked me earlier why we didn't discuss this before, and maybe you're right," I continued. "You said if I'd known it mattered to you, I would have made more effort to have lunch with you or come home earlier. And I agree with you, Sherry, but I've expressed those thoughts countless times before. What I long to understand is why spending time with me didn't mean the same to you. Why didn't our communication matter to you as much?" Her

lip quivered as she tried to respond, but I continued, "Maybe if I understood that, I could have changed my behavior, done something differently, taken action. But over time, it became clear to me that the growing distance between us wasn't entirely my fault. And I realized that if I brought up Todd now, this conversation would only deteriorate. You'd accuse me of being insecure or possessive. I didn't want that, so instead, I wanted to remind you of all the wonderful moments we shared and let you reflect on how they unraveled." I took a deep breath. "Over time,

the bond we once thought was unbreakable began to weaken. You started going to hen parties, and I started attending late-night gatherings with friends. You went to the spa, and I found solace in playing golf. Sherry, we used to spend endless hours together, not wasting a minute. We'd talk about the weather or the latest news—anything—but that's all gone now." I hesitated before addressing the next, deeper fracture in our relationship. "Our intimacy has also suffered greatly. We're often too tired or too distracted to engage with each other physically. In the early days of our marriage, our passion

knew no bounds. We were inseparable, making love four or five times a week, sometimes even several times a day. I would snuggle up to you while you were cooking, and we'd abandon dinner to indulge in each other all night. Our trips to the jacuzzi were a regular thing, always filled with laughter and joy. But it's been over a year since we last enjoyed that simple pleasure together." Sherry's voice cracked as she interrupted me, "I thought you didn't want to make love anymore." I froze, stunned by her statement. "What?" I asked, confused by how she could

have come to such a conclusion. It felt like she was trying to justify her actions by shifting the blame onto me. Grinning bitterly, I reassured her, "No, not at all. I've never stopped craving intimacy. My desire to make love is just as strong as it was ten years ago." I paused, letting the weight of my next words sink in. "But the truth is, Sherry, I no longer want intimacy with you." Her face fell as my words hit her. Admitting my lack of interest in intimacy with Sherry brought me deep internal pain. The irony wasn't lost

on me: Sherry had believed I felt rejected by her in an intimate way, yet here I was, explaining the lack of a physical connection by admitting my own disinterest. The situation might have been comical if it weren't so deeply painful. Sherry's voice faltered, clearly taken aback by my admission. "So you didn't want intimacy with me?" she asked, her words trembling. The answer came without much thought. "I lost interest because it felt like you weren't present. You didn't show any excitement or desire to explore new things. It seemed like you just wanted to finish the act

as quickly as possible so you could return to your other hobbies, like knitting. Meanwhile, I was still longing for those passionate weekends we used to have. You didn't even want me to give you pleasure, Sherry. Our intimate moments lacked any thrill or connection." Unaware of how deeply I felt, I confessed that I had often resorted to pretending to speed up the process. Sherry, however, objected, claiming I hadn't been careful enough during our intimate moments. "Don't you remember how you insisted on using contraceptives despite already being on birth control?" I replied calmly. "You said it was

more convenient, even though it made things unpleasant for me. Your persistence left me no room to pretend to be satisfied." Sherry stared at me, her face flushed with embarrassment and disbelief. "It's not about you, it's about me," I continued, my voice firm. Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, her tears momentarily subsiding, her complexion turning rosy. It was hard to tell whether it was from anger, disappointment, or humiliation. To relieve the tension, I filled her glass with more wine. She grabbed the drink and took a generous sip before placing it down on the table,

clearly overwhelmed by our conversation. "Sip," her hands trembling, after a brief silence I resumed speaking, knowing I needed to press forward. "I know the search for a new relationship will be inevitable," I said carefully, choosing my words. Sherry's composure cracked in a fit of rage; she shot back sharply, "Are you cheating on me? Have you fallen in love with someone else?" I met her gaze evenly. "Sherry, you know my stance on infidelity. When we exchanged vows on our wedding day, I made you a solemn promise, and I have upheld it. I understand the pain caused

by your first husband's betrayal, just as I experienced the agony of my first wife's secret affair with a colleague. I would never betray you like that, just as I'm certain you would never stoop to harming me in that way. How could you even think such a thing?" Sherry's face softened, and she quickly repented. "I'm sorry, you're right. I know you would never behave that way," she said, her voice contrite. She avoided eye contact, but her trembling hands betrayed her deep concern. With a calm voice, I continued, "Let's refrain from intimacy until the divorce is finalized."

Her head snapped up. "What do you mean, divorce?" she asked, her voice cracking. I kept my tone steady. "This brings me to an important point. I've already met with a lawyer and completed the necessary paperwork. You'll be served the papers on Friday." Sherry's face filled with confusion and despair. "Wait, what?" she cried. I couldn't help but smile faintly and repeated, "You'll be served with the divorce papers on Friday. It's for the best, really. This way, we can both regain our freedom and pursue our own desires." She shook her head vehemently, her voice rising. "These ten

years haven't been a waste for me! I don't want this! I don't want a divorce!" she exclaimed. "Come on, Sherry," I begged softly. "Deep down, you know you want this as much as I do. Let's face the true truth: it's been a long time since you've wanted to be by my side. Our wedding was a decision you've come to regret. I'm not the person you truly want to be with." But she refused to agree. "No, I don't want a divorce," she said firmly, her voice trembling. "It's not as simple as just wanting it. You can't

initiate a divorce based on your own desires alone. I don't want this; I want to stay married to you indefinitely. My love for you is still strong." I sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, Sherry, but my love for you has faded." Her tears fell freely as she listened, her hands clutching the edge of the table for support. "Fortunately," I continued, "we live in a no-fault divorce state. This means we can split our property equally, and both of us can get a fair share. There's a small chance one of us could get more than half the assets, but

only if we could definitively prove adultery. But neither of us is cheating, and it's unlikely either of us will stoop to that level before Friday, right? So we can part cleanly and amicably." Sherry's expression grew more desperate. "No, you're in too much of a hurry," she said, her voice shaking with disappointment. "I'm at a loss; please stop," she begged, her voice echoing off the walls. "Don't worry," I reassured her calmly. "I've already packed my things. I'll stay in a hotel until I find a permanent place to move. You can stay here until the house is

sold." But Sherry's desperation grew. "Wait, damn it, please!" she screamed. "Please wait! There's no need to hurry." I shook my head, standing firm. "Isn't there?" I asked softly. "We shouldn't put this off any longer. We have to take care of everything by Friday, don't we?" Her reaction was instant; her eyes widened in shock, her mouth hung open, and she tried to speak, but only a faint hiss escaped her throat. For a brief moment, doubt crept into my mind—had I confused the date? Seeking clarification, I quickly grabbed a folder hidden beneath a stack of Better Homes

and Gardens magazines. I opened it and pulled out the private investigator's summary report, which I had kept discreetly in my pocket. Without a word, I handed it to Sherry and directed her attention to a specific section. "Look," I said, pointing to the text. "It clearly states here that you and Todd have a reservation at the Gaylord Texas Hotel for Friday night." Sherry opened her mouth to object, but I cut her off before she could get a word in. "And before you try to deny it, let me remind you about the photos—those ones of you and

Todd kissing during lunch." Her eyes met mine, and tears streamed down her face once more. "I'm so sorry," she whispered softly. Smiling faintly, I continued, "I clearly remember the moment my love for you began to fade. It was the day I found out about your plans to betray me—the day you decided to turn me into a cuckold, just like my ex-wife did." Her face twisted in anguish. "Forgive me, my love," she stammered, her voice heavy with despair. "Todd means nothing to me. This is just a fleeting affair—a mere attempt to revive our relationship. I was

only planning to spend one night with him. Let's spend the rest of the weekend together, rekindling the passionate intimacy we once shared." She hesitated, then added, "Todd suggested it. He believes it will awaken and revitalize our connection. It pains me to think that instead of indulging in passion with me, you're consumed by rage. Don't you see? This is about reviving us—our relationship, our intimacy." Her voice faltered as she tried to rationalize her actions. "Does this logic make sense?" she asked, struggling to articulate her thoughts. "Todd said you might consider this option if it..." Could bring

me happiness, and I sincerely want you to be happy. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I stared at her, incredulous. "Sherry, it upsets you that instead of finding happiness with me, you're chasing satisfaction elsewhere, all while trying to justify it as a way to revive our relationship? Does that logic even make sense to you?" She nodded nervously, her voice weak but resolute. "Yes, I truly believed it could. I only wanted to fix us." I shook my head. "You thought I'd accept such a situation? That I'd be okay with it? Let me be clear: that's

never going to happen." Her shoulders sagged as my words sank in. "I don't know what I was thinking," she admitted, her voice trembling. "Maybe it was boredom. Loneliness. Todd rekindled something in me. But how could I feel bored and lonely when we were deeply in love and cherished every moment together? I can't explain it, but those feelings—they resurfaced." I leaned forward, my voice firm yet measured. "Have you ever thought that you were bored and lonely because you pulled away from us? You stopped having lunch with me, stopped participating in events, stopped spending time with me.

You distanced yourself from me voluntarily, and instead of trying to fix things with us, you chose him." Sherry shook her head in disbelief. "No," she whispered. "I can't imagine that I would intentionally create such a scenario." "I thought you stopped coming to my place for lunch. Don't you remember? It was your choice." I raised an eyebrow. "Was it? Let me remind you of the Wednesday you canceled our lunch plans. I came to pick you up, but you didn't even bother to tell me in person that you couldn't make it. Instead, you sent me a text

telling me to go to lunch without you. That incident upset me so much that I stopped trying, and yet surprisingly, you never acknowledged the fact that our lunches—and later our dinners—stopped entirely. You didn't even notice." Her gaze dropped to her hands, guilt and sadness etched across her face. "You're right," she admitted softly. "I was so preoccupied with my own world, with Todd, I didn't notice that I was losing you." "Well, now you can have him entirely," I said, my voice cold and steady. She snapped her head up and fixed me with a determined gaze. "No,"

she said firmly. "I don't want him. I want you. I want us. I want to go back to what we were before. I deeply regret my mistakes. I abandoned our relationship, but I don't want to lose you. It's not too late." I shook my head slowly, my voice firm yet calm. "It is too late, Sherry. You should have realized that before." "I've never betrayed you," she pleaded, tears streaming down her face. "We didn't cross any boundaries. I swear. I promise never to see him again. I'm even willing to quit my job and find work elsewhere.

Please, I can't accept losing you." I sighed, shaking my head. "I still feel betrayed, Sherry, in every way except one. But that's the most important one. You didn't enter into a physical relationship with Todd, but your emotional affair has destroyed what we had." "I made a stupid decision," she confessed, her voice cracking. "I was infatuated with Todd, but I didn't love him. My love has always been and will always be for you." Her words hung in the air, but I remained silent, my heart hardened by the weight of her actions. Whatever love I had for

her was buried under the pain and betrayal of her choices. "I can't understand what was going on in my head," Sherry said, her voice breaking. "In the end, I planned to leave him and come back to you when everything was settled, but now I see it clearly. Now I admit my stupidity. Todd means nothing to me. Please, my love, don't leave me." "It's not that simple, Sherry," I replied, my tone heavy with disappointment. "I made mistakes too. I tried to walk away before it went too far, but you crossed the line, and I voiced my

disagreement long before this. You thought a simple physical encounter would somehow strengthen our bond. How can you justify that?" Sherry clutched her hands together, tears streaming down her face. "It wasn't like that! I didn't commit any illegal actions! We were just friends." "Like you said, you should have put our love above everything else," I objected firmly. "I have many female friends, but I've always refrained from physical intimacy with them. I never wasted time on them, never prioritized them over you, and I never traded you for anyone. I never even entertained the thought of sleeping with

someone else, let alone forcing you to accept it." Sherry buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. "I regret ignoring you," she choked out. "I regret taking you for granted. I promise it will never happen again! Can't we just see this as a terrible mistake and find the strength in our hearts to forgive me?" Her words stung, but I couldn't let her evade accountability. "Sherry, this situation isn't a game of Monopoly where you can just pick up a 'get out of jail free' card. Your actions weren't just a mistake. You walked away from our love.

You gave your heart to someone else." I took a deep breath, steadying my voice. "At the same time, I want you to know my heart has always belonged to you. And yet, you didn't allow me the same dignity. You didn't give me the chance to fight for our love because you went too far." Her face crumpled as my words sank in. "Am I really that insignificant to you?" I continued. "You were my everything. I would have fought for you against anyone. I would have given my life for you, but…" Now, now, I wouldn't even bother

to acknowledge you if you were in trouble. Sher's scream pierced the air. Desperately, she clutched my arms, trying to pull me closer. "No, please don't think like that. I'm really sorry. Please forgive me." Her words echoed in the room, and I finally replied, "I think I believe you're sorry. It shows me you're not completely heartless or self-centered, but that doesn't change the result." "Please," she begged, her voice breaking. "Please don't end this. Don't walk away." "Sherry," I said, my voice calm but firm. "This was your decision. I believe you sincerely regret it, but my love

for you has faded. Our relationship is over. But don't get upset; you still have Todd to comfort you." Between her sobs, Sherry dropped a bombshell. "Todd is married," she confessed. "He only wanted a physical relationship, not something serious." A grim smile spread across my face. "Well, maybe his perspective will change now," I replied. "I'm sure when he gets home today, his wife will have something to discuss with him. It's interesting, isn't it? She and I hired the same divorce lawyer." Sherry's eyes widened in shock, her jaw dropping. She tried to form words, but nothing came

out. Silently, I pushed a folder across the table toward her. "Inside, you will find the full report from the private investigator, complete with photos of you and Todd. Rest assured, his wife has a duplicate copy of this very folder. You'll also find all the necessary documentation from my lawyer regarding the divorce proceedings and the proposed division of property. It would be wise for you to read everything carefully." Her hands trembled as she reached for the folder, and I stood, signaling the conversation was over. "Please refrain from any further actions, Sherry," I said coldly. "If you

want to accompany me to the bank tomorrow to split our accounts, let me know; otherwise, I'll handle it alone." With that, I walked out of the room, ignoring her anguished screams echoing behind me. Sher struggled to cope with the fallout of our divorce, and although I wanted to avoid a lengthy and costly legal battle, I remained firm in my decision. When the judge recommended marriage counseling before finalizing the divorce, I reluctantly agreed. To my surprise, the sessions were more productive than I expected. Sherry and I reconnected with our emotions and began to communicate openly without

judgment about every aspect of our lives. Through therapy, I was able to express the pain and humiliation I felt because of her actions. The counselor praised our progress, and for a moment, it felt like we might reconcile. But deep down, I couldn't forgive Sherry—not fully. I even harbored a lingering desire for revenge against her. At one point, I suggested she quit her job, implying that it might make me reconsider the divorce. She refused, and in truth, my suggestion had been disingenuous. I didn't want reconciliation; I wanted her to lose the career she valued so much.

When she refused, it solidified my decision to proceed with the divorce. Because of her emotional affair, Sherry received a smaller share of our marital assets than she expected. To her surprise, Todd also divorced his wife but showed no interest in pursuing a serious relationship with her. Instead, he quickly began dating a younger woman. It's been over two years since our divorce, and I couldn't be happier. I've moved on, enjoying life and embracing new experiences with different women. Sherry, on the other hand, is still searching for someone to start a family with. Sadly for her, no

one sees her as a potential wife. She's become nothing more than a temporary fling for the men she meets. **Story Two:** I must admit this year has been challenging, not only for my wife, Lori, but for everyone in our family. I dedicated 16 years of my career to Van Screw Nut, where we specialized in custom fasteners. Unlike ordinary consumers, companies that manufacture goods cannot simply purchase screws from the nearest hardware store; everything must be tailored to their specific requirements. I started my career in the sales department and gradually worked my way up to sales manager.

It was a fantastic position that brought me both job satisfaction and substantial income. I consistently met all four quarterly quotas, striving for excellence in my role. With such consistent performance, I fully expected to receive a year-end bonus exceeding $100,000. However, the constant relocation of manufacturing facilities abroad began to disrupt our market share, creating significant challenges for the company. Despite these challenges, thanks to my efforts in assembling a dedicated and hardworking sales team, we consistently outperformed the previous year. About a year ago, an unexpected meeting was called, gathering all the key figures in the company, including

myself. During this meeting, we were shocked to learn about the retirement of the company's owner and the ongoing secret negotiations with a California-based conglomerate to acquire Van Screw and Nut. The news stunned all of us, but we were reassured that nothing significant would change after the sale and that our positions and leadership structure were secure. Unfortunately, this promise turned out to be false. Less than two months later, the first signs of trouble emerged as employees began to be laid off. Realizing the company's fate was sealed, I immediately began searching for alternative employment. But fate intervened

in an unexpected and unwelcome way: I was abruptly fired before I could secure another job. The termination was swift and cold; they feigned sympathy, patted me on the back, and offered me a severance package of $10,000. Without further ado, they escorted me out of the building. At first, Lori and I weren't too worried about the state of the economy. But as time passed, I began to understand just how much the economic landscape had changed during my years of stable employment. It became increasingly clear that Not only had most domestic manufacturing facilities moved abroad, but even

the companies that survived were now sourcing their fasteners internationally. I couldn't help but wonder how our economy remained resilient amidst these shifts, but my immediate concern was finding another job. It was during this turbulent period that our 17-year-old son, Lance, became a pivotal part of our story. As he prepared to graduate high school, we were hit with a wave of conflicting emotions upon learning of his decision to join the Army immediately after graduation. The ongoing instability in the Middle East heightened our fears for his safety, and the thought of his absence weighed heavily on our

hearts. However, amid these fears, there was also a bittersweet sense of relief; we would not have to bear the financial burden of college expenses. The harsh reality of unemployment crushed any hopes I had of securing another job with a six-figure salary. Forced to adjust my expectations, I set more modest goals for myself. Lori and I worked together to find a solution to our temporary financial struggles. Surprisingly, Lori managed to find a job before I did; she was hired as a low-level secretary at a software development company. While her salary wasn't substantial, it exceeded my unemployment

benefits and helped ease our financial strain. About a month after Lori started her job, I managed to secure a position as a salesman at Henry Automotive, a company specializing in car parts. Initially, my income was negligible during the training phase, but after completing my training, I officially joined the company. My new job offered a combination of a fixed salary and commission; however, it was clear from the start that this position would not be highly lucrative. The company's highest-paid salesman, who had been there for 12 years, earned only $60,000 annually. This stark income disparity significantly strained

our financial situation, which had already been burdened by our previous lifestyle. We had lived comfortably in a spacious house with a stable mortgage and owned two Cadillacs, one of which we were still paying off. Fortunately, my 5-year-old CTS was fully paid for. Lori and I had purchased another Cadillac of the same model just a few months before I lost my job. On top of that, most of our credit cards were maxed out. Our once regular evenings out on the town were among the first sacrifices we made to cut costs. We used to enjoy dinners with

friends, dancing, and attending shows, plays, and concerts. These outings, which had been far from ordinary dates, were opportunities for us to truly let go and have fun together. We indulged in such activities two or three times a month, sometimes more; however, with our financial difficulties, those moments became rare, and Lori seemed to feel the loss more acutely than I did. Coming from a more privileged background, Lori was accustomed to a lifestyle that I had only begun to experience in recent years. Her family was educated and financially stable, unlike mine. I had grown up in more

modest circumstances, and the comforts and joys we shared during our years of prosperity were relatively new to me. When I was a student, entertainment was a luxury I could barely afford, but Lori, even back then, seemed to enjoy a life filled with gatherings and joy. She loved spending time with her parents, hosting parties with them as if it were second nature. However, in the months following our financial struggles, her once unshakable enthusiasm began to waver. The countless weeks of staying at home without socializing started to wear on her, and Lori's dissatisfaction became increasingly apparent. For

her, bills could always be postponed, but the absence of a vibrant social life couldn't. About three months ago, Lori began voicing her frustrations, demanding action. Sitting at home night after night with nothing to do was driving her crazy. She longed to go out and recapture the joy and excitement she had once experienced. Lori struggled to adjust to this new confined reality while I focused on navigating our financial recovery. One evening, as I sat at the kitchen table meticulously reviewing our bills, Lori stood by, visibly restless. Slowly but steadily, we were clawing our way out of

our financial mess. Glancing at her, I couldn't help but make a sarcastic remark: "Of course it's not a problem at all. Please tell me, which bills should we leave unpaid?" Her gaze remained fixed on me, and I wasn't sure how she would respond. For a moment, I thought she might yell, but instead, she seemed lost in thought. Instantly, I regretted my words; a wave of guilt washed over me as nausea churned in my stomach. My comment wasn't as terrible as it first seemed, but it was still unnecessary. "I'm sorry, honey," I said quickly, hoping to

diffuse the tension. "I promise it won't always be like this. I'll keep searching for a better job, but for now, let's try to relax a little." "Relax?" she growled, her frustration bubbling over. "Skyler, it's been almost a year of this! I feel trapped, like an animal in a cage. I need to break free; I need to find some fun." "I understand, my love. I understand," I assured her, trying to calm her. "Look, we've come so far. Five months ago, we were behind on payments for the house and the second car. We were this close," I

gestured with my thumb and forefinger nearly touching, "to losing your car. Fortunately, we've managed to stay afloat. With the commissions I'm expecting this month, we'll finally be caught up, except for one more car payment. If we can cut back on food expenses, we'll be in a better position." In just two months, Lori's lips pressed tightly together, clearly indicating her displeasure. I could see why she had grown tired of sacrifices. Suddenly, an idea came to mind. "How about this?" I suggested. "Why don't we…" Visit the Lincoln Park Zoo this weekend; it's free, and we haven't been

there since Lance was a kid. "Skyler, I'm not interested in communing with nature," she said with a sarcastic grin. "I want to immerse myself in the city. I want good food, drinks, dancing until I can't stand anymore!" "I ask you to be patient, just a little longer," I pleaded. "As soon as we settle all our financial obligations, I promise we'll celebrate with a delicious dinner at a wonderful place." Without another word, Lori turned and gracefully climbed the stairs, leaving me alone. I sighed heavily, torn between guilt and frustration. Though I felt remorse, I couldn't ignore

the reality of our situation. Living in Chicago, even a simple dinner for two could easily cost a few hundred, not to mention parking or lunch beforehand. Growing up in a family that prioritized paying bills over everything else, I couldn't find a reasonable excuse to indulge in such luxuries given our financial circumstances. We were constantly trying to catch up, barely keeping up with the minimum payments on our credit cards. After another 10 minutes of reviewing our finances, I realized Lori hadn't come back downstairs. Concerned, I decided to check on her. When I entered the bedroom, I

found her sitting on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down her face. My heart sank; I felt like a terrible person. Without hesitation, I sat beside her, wrapped my arms around her, and pulled her close, hoping to comfort her. "I'm sorry, dear," I murmured softly, pressing my cheek against the top of her head. "I'm doing my best." She snorted softly and admitted, "I know. I understand, but this year has been so incredibly hard, and with Lance gone, it feels even harder. Before we could escape for the weekend, but now we're stuck here—trapped. It's like

a prison." Her words cut deep. I remember hearing her joke once about Statesville Prison being dismantled; this time, however, her comparison to our home felt cruel and undeserved. Our house was far from a prison; in fact, I never even wanted to buy it. I thought it was too big and too expensive, but Lori had fallen in love with it the moment she saw it and insisted it was meant to be hers. Now here I was, fighting to keep it while she disparagingly referred to it as a prison. Over the next two months, my relationship with

Lori continued to deteriorate. Our conversations became shorter, increasingly superficial, and ultimately meaningless. We gradually spent less and less time together in the same room; even the frequency of our lovemaking dwindled, further straining our bond. Our intimacy had dwindled, and what used to be cries of passion had now turned into sorrowful sobs. The charm that once filled our bedroom had vanished. Lori made it clear that she was unhappy about me not asking her out, but circumstances had prevented me from doing so. Undoubtedly, we both craved some kind of release. While I understood her feelings, I still

believed our bills needed to take priority. Her assurances that she would only spend the night in the city did little to calm her growing discontent. Eventually, the tension reached its peak one Friday evening after we finished work. When I arrived home, my spirits were high. I had just signed a lucrative contract, and the excitement of finally being able to enjoy precious moments with Lori overwhelmed me. Unfortunately, I hadn't had a chance to share this news with her yet. As soon as I stepped inside the house, I saw her gracefully descending the stairs, dressed in an

outfit more fitting for a big celebration. Amazed, I couldn't help but remark, “Wow, you radiate elegance!” I couldn't help but wonder about the occasion. "What's the reason for the gorgeous appearance?" I asked. "I'm meeting with my work colleagues. Don't worry about it," she replied. There was a hint of sarcasm in her tone as she added, "They pay for everything." From the very beginning, something didn't sit right with me. A wave of anxiety gripped me. As far as I knew, Lori had never cheated on me, but there was no reason for her to wear the most

revealing dress in her wardrobe just to spend time with her girlfriends. After all, my wife was proud and independent. The idea that she would accept her friend's generosity for the whole evening felt odd—almost like charity. In our years together, I knew Lori would only allow someone to cover her expenses in such a manner if it was a date. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as my suspicions grew. "So who are these girls? Can you tell me their names?" I asked. Strangely, she didn't seem bothered by my question. She replied casually,

"Just some girls from the office. You wouldn't know them." "But Lori," I pressed, "you still haven't answered my question. I may not be naive, but I can tell when something isn't right. You don't usually dress up like this to go out with your girlfriends, so who are you really meeting? Is it a guy?" “Come on, don't be silly,” she said dismissively. “I already told you I'm meeting girls. If you don't believe me, that's your problem. You're just being overly cautious because you feel guilty." Before I could respond, a car horn caught my attention. Looking outside,

I noticed a taxi parked in front of our house. "Are you taking a taxi?" I asked, trying to suppress my growing unease. "Yes," she replied matter-of-factly. "I plan to have a good time tonight, and we definitely can't afford drunk driving, so I thought it would be wise." My irritation flared. "Do your girlfriends pitch in for the expenses too?" I asked sarcastically. "Yes, actually," she answered honestly. She bent down, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Are leftovers from last night's dinner in the fridge? You can heat them up in the microwave. I may be

late, so don't wait up." And with those parting words, she walked out the door. I looked outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of an outsider in the taxi, but when she smoothly settled into the back seat, I saw she was alone. For a while, I tried to suppress my suspicions. Of course, I understood that Lori was upset, but the idea of her being involved with another man felt too painful to accept. After all, we had a child, and our lives were deeply intertwined. I reassured myself that she would never betray me; it just couldn't be

true. I turned to the leftovers in the fridge and placed them in the microwave, hoping to distract myself from the emotions surging through me. But as the food warmed up, so did my anxiety, desperately clinging to the hope that she was just having fun with colleagues. I tried to convince myself of this unlikely scenario, yet deep down, doubt crept in. Determined to find answers, I went to my computer and searched for information about the taxi service. I quickly dialed the company's number. When the dispatcher answered, I urgently requested information about the location of a taxi

that had just left my address. To my surprise, the person on the other end readily provided the information without hesitation. The destination Lori had been taken to was the Plato House on Elmhurst Road. I was very familiar with the place; Lori and I had been there several times. It was a romantic restaurant, complete with intimate, dimly lit corners. It wasn't the kind of place one typically chose to hang out with friends; rather, it was the perfect setting for a man to seduce his companion. As the microwave bell chimed, announcing that dinner was ready, a knot

formed in my stomach. I couldn't shake the thought that Lori might be meeting someone else. I had always believed that in difficult times, husbands and wives should support each other, not turn on each other. It was devastating to think that this wasn't always the case. I even briefly considered going to Plato's restaurant myself. The establishment had two separate entrances: one led to the lounge, and the other to the restaurant. This would allow me to observe the situation discreetly. With determination, I entered through the living room of the restaurant, bypassing the bar as I wasn't interested

in drinks. My focus was solely on the restaurant section. As I walked in, the sight before me made my heart skip a beat. There she was: my wife, sitting at a table with another man. Lori's identity was unmistakable; she was facing me, chatting with him over snacks and a bottle of wine that sat between them. Anger surged through my veins. My gaze locked onto the man, the intruder who was trying to have an affair with my wife. Without hesitation, I walked aggressively toward their table. Even though I was only a short distance away, the man

whom I mentally labeled Mr. Slick seemed to sense my presence. He hesitated, raising his head to meet my gaze. His confidence visibly wavered, replaced by nervousness. I stopped just a few feet away. Lori turned to see what had captured her companion's attention. "Skyler!" she exclaimed, her voice full of surprise. "What are you doing here?" I didn't hold back; my words dripped with contempt. "I came to meet your girlfriend," I said, staring directly at the man. "And who is this?" The man, flustered, slowly stood up. Before he could say a word, I interrupted, my tone sharp

and threatening. "Tell me why you're here. You know perfectly well that she's married; doesn't that mean anything to you?" I let out a bitter chuckle, my fury rising. "Tell me, do you leave a trail of slime behind you when you crawl?" He froze, uncertain, caught between standing fully and sitting back down. His hesitation fueled my anger. Lori quickly intervened. "Skyler, please don't make a scene," she begged. "This is Jerry, my colleague. Since you've been hesitant to ask me out, he kindly offered to take me out for dinner. He was just trying to be nice." I

turned to her, my displeasure evident. "Don't give me this nonsense! He's not being nice; he's just interested in having an intimate relationship with you." Looking at Jerry again, I noticed that he had no intention of disputing my statement. Instead, he quietly sank back into his seat, avoiding confrontation. My voice dropped, firm and cold. "If you make even one move toward my wife again, you'll have to deal with me. Your evening is over." I turned to Lori. "Let’s go." She hesitated, her reluctance clear, but ultimately chose not to challenge me. "I'm sorry," she told Jerry as

she stood up. As I led her toward the exit, it felt like every eye in the restaurant was on us. Silence enveloped the car as I drove us home, but as soon as we entered the house, the atmosphere changed completely. "Lori, could you explain what just happened?" I asked, my voice tense with frustration. "Have you suddenly decided I'm no longer worthy to be your husband?" She sighed, defensive. "I just wanted to get out of the house and have some fun for a change." "And who exactly is this Jerry? How long have you been dating him?"

Her expression hardened, and she responded curtly. "He's just a colleague. We've had a few dinners together; nothing else. I told him that our relationship isn't what it used to be and that I miss it. He offered to take me out to dinner and dancing, and I agreed. That's it." Her attempt to downplay the situation only heightened my anger. "Oh come on, Lori. Bear me this; this is unacceptable." Her demeanor shifted, and with... a quip she added, "What? Go ahead, beat me up over it!" I was stunned, almost at a loss for words. I never expected

this from her. I believed our marriage was stronger than this. I said, my voice laced with disappointment, "We're going through a tough time right now, and this is how you respond? Are you ready to abandon ship?" "Who said anything about quitting?" she retorted, defiant. "I work tirelessly every day. I deserve to have fun sometimes. If you don't want to accompany me, why should I turn down someone who will?" "Because you're my wife, damn it!" I shouted. "We're supposed to work together as a team. That's why I'm so upset." But she remained silent, her expression mocking

my words. Her reaction cut deep, and I couldn't help but feel the cracks in our marriage widening. "So, this is what I'm left with in our marriage?" I asked, my frustration boiling over. "Being married to a woman I can't trust? Do I have to constantly wonder about your location and your actions when you're out of my sight? Tell me, Lori, what were your intentions for the rest of the evening? Were you planning to have an intimate relationship with him?" Her response was sharp and defensive. "Of course not!" Looking at the woman I'd shared my life

with for almost two decades, I was overwhelmed by an uneasy feeling. For the first time, I doubted her trustworthiness. "I can't believe you," I said, my voice filled with disbelief. The realization hit me like a blow: she had lied to me, claiming she was spending time with friends. She didn't even care that I doubted her words then, so why should I trust her now? "Yes, this past year has been difficult," I continued, my tone firm, "but a wife should stand by her husband. Do you remember the vows we exchanged at the altar? In good times

and bad, in sickness and in health? At this moment, those vows feel hollow." For the first time, I felt complete clarity. I looked her in the eye and said, "Our marriage is over." She stared at me, stunned, before scoffing. Her mockery now had a verbal edge. "Don't be silly! We're having financial difficulties, remember? You can't afford a lawyer, let alone a divorce. To be honest, you can't even afford to move out," Lori said coldly. Although I was eager to respond with a sharp retort, I found myself speechless, stunned by her blatant disregard for me. It

became painfully obvious in that moment: she no longer loved or respected me. Unfortunately, some people just don't know how to handle situations like this. After nearly two decades, my marriage had collapsed in a single unexpected moment. Despite the tears threatening to overwhelm me, I was seized with burning anger. Without saying a word, I marched upstairs and began resolutely packing my things. Lori, after some time, finally came upstairs, her voice sharp and accusatory. "What does this mean? What are you doing?" she demanded. "I may not be able to buy you dinner," I replied curtly, "but it

looks like you don't mind spending the night at a motel." A burst of disappointment escaped her lips, and she stormed out of the room without another word. I continued packing, my resolve unwavering. Bright Automotive, where I worked, had shifted much of its production abroad, though some of the goods were still manufactured in-house. Next to the office, there was a compact factory equipped with a spacious shower room where employees could freshen up before heading home. The office building's reception area even had a cozy sofa, and at that moment, those modest amenities were all I needed: a

shower and a place to rest. When I came downstairs with my suitcase, Lori was in the kitchen. She called out to me as soon as she heard the door open, but I ignored her. I didn't want to hear what she had to say. I quickly threw my clothes into the car and drove off, not looking back. About a mile into the drive, my phone interrupted the uneasy quiet with an incoming call. Since I was wearing my seatbelt and the phone was out of reach, I let it go to voicemail. However, my curiosity soon got the

better of me. Once I arrived at the office parking lot, I retrieved my phone and listened to the message, expecting tearful apologies or desperate pleas from Lori. To my surprise, that wasn't what I heard. "Skyler, your behavior resembles that of a child," she began, her tone dismissive. "I've made it clear that I have no intention of having an intimate relationship with Jerry, and I stand by my word. Your reaction, demanding to drag me home like that, was unexpected and entirely inappropriate." Her words stung, but I didn't let them deter me. I gathered a few necessary

belongings from my car and headed inside the break room at work. I didn't want to make my personal problems public knowledge, so I tried to keep my situation discreet. Even though it was still early, I took refuge in the break room and turned on the TV, hoping to distract myself. But my thoughts wouldn't stop racing. What would have happened if I hadn't gone to the restaurant that night? Would Lori have returned home after some dancing, or would she have stayed out longer, maybe even gone further? I couldn't know for sure, but my suspicions lingered. Jerry

didn't strike me as the type to give up easily. I had a sinking feeling that, given the opportunity, he might eventually seduce her. I gave up trying to watch TV, unable to focus. Instead, I set an alarm to wake up early, knowing I needed to shower and get dressed before the factory workers arrived at 7 a.m. As I lay on the uncomfortable sofa, I thought about my next steps. Lori was... Right about one thing: I had no money for a lawyer, let alone an apartment. But her contempt for me and our marriage only strengthened my

resolve. I refused to admit defeat or return home in shame. To my surprise, the alarm woke me up the next morning, and I was shocked at how well I'd slept, even on what felt like a torture device. After taking a shower and getting dressed, I decided to treat myself to breakfast at Denny's. As I sipped my fourth cup of coffee, a sudden realization struck me like lightning: a simple solution to my predicament. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it before. Standing in the parking lot, I quickly grabbed my phone and took a picture. Once

back at my desk, I wasted no time posting an ad. Two days later, I decided to take the day off to run some errands. Knowing Lori would be at work, I drove to our house and rummaged through the filing cabinet, searching for the necessary documents. I had brought a spare set of keys to make sure I could get in and out unnoticed. By noon, I checked into a motel and dialed Lori's number. She answered quickly, and her tone was laced with sarcasm. "Have you finished your little tantrum?" she asked. "Honestly, it amazes me that you

couldn't afford to buy me dinner, but somehow you managed to pay for a two-day stay at a motel." "Actually," I interjected calmly, "I'm not at a motel. I'm staying at the office." "The office?" she asked, clearly taken aback. "Yes," I confirmed. "They've got a shower, a cozy sofa, and even a room with a TV—just all the comforts of home," I added, feigning enthusiasm. Her disbelief was evident, but she quickly regained her composure. "Is that so?" she replied, her tone dripping with condescension. "Well, this is completely absurd. Please drop your stubbornness and come home," Lori pleaded

over the phone. "Lori, I've made it clear that our marriage is over. I'm only calling to inform you that I need to borrow your car," I replied. "What? Why? What happened to your car?" she asked, her voice laced with confusion. "Nothing," I said curtly. "Your car just works better than mine." There was a brief pause as she undoubtedly tried to make sense of my words. "Skyler, what are you trying to say?" she finally asked. "I sold my car," I said calmly. "I got $18,800 for it. That gives me enough money to hire a divorce lawyer

and make a down payment on a condo. But since I'm in sales, I need a car, so I borrowed yours." "Today I visited the house and took my license and the spare keys for both cars, including yours." Her gasp of disbelief was audible. "Skyler, you took my car! What am I supposed to do for transportation?" she exclaimed. "Since both cars were registered in my name," I said firmly, "both cars are in my name, Lori, so I have every right to use them. Don't worry, I didn't take anything unaccounted for. Besides, all the bills for this

month have been paid. If you stick to your budget, you should have enough for food and transportation. And if you run out of money, I'm sure Jerry will be happy to buy you dinner, provided you fulfill his wishes." She let out a heavy sigh. "Skyler, please reconsider your actions." "I never thought you'd stoop to this level." "Lori, you tricked me. You secretly went on a date with another man, treated me with contempt, and didn't show any real remorse when I confronted you. It's obvious that you don't love or respect me." "Skyler, I'm sorry. I also

regret what I did. We had a good relationship when times were easy, but we let each other down when things got difficult," she admitted, her voice breaking. I was startled to hear her sobbing on the other end of the line, but it didn't change anything for me. "The house is registered in both our names," I continued firmly. "It's the only valuable property we have left, and it needs to be sold immediately." She listened in disbelief. "Sell the house? Skyler, is that really necessary?" "Lori, we've managed to catch up on the mortgage payments, but I can't

afford to keep the house anymore, and you won't be able to cover the monthly installments either. Unfortunately, it needs to be sold urgently. After crunching the numbers, I estimate each of us will get about $50,000 to $60,000. With that money, you can buy yourself a decent used car and find an apartment." "Skyler, I don't want to get divorced! Can't we discuss this further?" she begged. "I'm sorry, Lori, but your wishes are no longer a priority," I replied coldly. "You should contact a realtor, or would you rather I handle it?" Lori stood outside the house, looking

up at the overcast sky. The distant cries of geese flying north reminded her that spring was on its way. Carefully navigating through the slushy snow, she made her way to her old Honda, ready to head to Starbucks to meet an old friend. She was filled with anticipation at the thought of reuniting with Julie. It was a typical Chicago winter: low temperatures, heavy snowfall, and treacherous roads. Lori had spent most of her time in her apartment lately, only venturing out for work, but today she had decided to break the monotony and visit Julie. When Lori entered

the cozy café, Julie was already seated at a small corner table, leisurely enjoying her latte. The friends greeted each other warmly, exchanging affectionate kisses on the cheek. After ordering a Colombian coffee, Lori couldn't help but daydream about better times spent outdoors. Finally, with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands, she returned to the table, where Julie greeted her with a warm smile and an enthusiastic, "Lori, it's..." "So nice to see you after such a long time!" "Yes, it's been far too long," Lori replied nostalgically. "I don't go out much anymore." "Ah, those were simpler

times," Julie said with a faint hint of sadness. "What about dating? Do you remember those times when you'd go out with a charming man who took care of everything?" Lori chuckled. "Oh, Julie, you always make me laugh. It's quite a predicament. I can't date unless I put myself on display, and I can't afford to date unless I'm with a man." Julie suggested they change the subject. "How are the kids?" she asked. "They're doing exceptionally well," Lori replied. "Lance has one year left on his contract, but he's already thinking about reenlisting. He really seems to like

it." Julie nodded in understanding. "And how's your husband?" "Charlie's doing well," Julie replied. "He's working hard as always." Lori noticed the confused expression on Julie's face. Curious, she pressed further. "What's going on? Tell me." Julie hesitated, her tone more timid now. "Oh, it's nothing." "Come on, Julie, spit it out. I have a feeling you're about to ask me something," Lori insisted. "Well, I just wanted to know if you've seen Skylar lately," Julie said cautiously. Without hesitation, Lori replied, "No, not since we filed for divorce. Hard to believe that was two years ago. Why are you

bringing it up now?" Julie hesitated before responding. "I was just wondering if I should share this with you, but I think it's better if you hear it from a friend." "Wait, is he okay?" Lori asked, her voice tinged with worry. "Don't worry, he's fine," Julie reassured her. "I ran into him recently, and we talked." "Well, what's the news? Julie, don't keep me waiting," Lori urged, leaning in with anticipation. Julie sighed and said, "Okay, okay, get ready: he's getting married again." The words hit Lori harder than she expected. Even though she knew their relationship had ended

long ago, tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice carried a deep sadness that left no room for surprise. "He's really an amazing man," she said softly, lowering her gaze and reflecting on their past. Lori took a sip of coffee and admitted, "You know, I genuinely loved him. I really did. But the burden of unbearable bills and all the difficulties we faced made me indulge in self-pity at the time. I let myself get consumed by selfish desires, just trying to distract myself from our problems. It was a huge mistake." Julie remained silent, listening intently.

"Skylar was right in so many ways," Lori continued. "He worked tirelessly to make sure we didn't lose everything, but my selfishness clouded my mind. I wanted everything to align with my desires, and when it didn't, I let resentment take over. I remember when he suggested we spend a weekend at the zoo—just something simple—but I brushed it off. I wanted to spend the night in the city instead. It was so unfair of me." Lori paused, her voice trembling. "Surprisingly, he was right about Jerry too—the man Skylar found me with at dinner. Skylar asked me that night

if I planned to sleep with Jerry, and of course, I denied it. But the truth is, I did have every intention of doing just that. Isn't it ironic, Julie? If I could go back and do it all over again, I would handle everything differently." She hesitated for a moment before asking, "By the way, do you know if Skylar still lives in that little apartment he bought?" "No," Julie replied carefully. "He moved out quite a while ago. I guess no one informed you." "What's the latest news? Don't tell me he won the lottery," Lori joked weakly,

trying to mask her sadness. Julie shook her head. "No, nothing like that. But he did manage to regain his former position at Van Screw and Nut. That happened sometime after your divorce was finalized. I believe the company started losing clients after Skylar left, and eventually, they contacted him and asked him to come back. After some negotiations, he agreed—and get this: he's making more money now than ever before." Lori sat quietly as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Julie immediately regretted sharing the news. "I'm sorry, dear," she said softly. "I shouldn't have said anything." But

Lori shook her head and offered a sad smile. "No, it's not your fault; it's my own," she admitted. "I can't even explain how many nights I've gone to bed thinking about him. I prayed that these past two years were just a terrible nightmare and that I'd wake up to find Skylar lying next to me. But every morning, I opened my eyes, and reality hit me all over again." Taking a napkin, Lori gently wiped away the tears from her face. "I'm really happy for him," she said sincerely. "If you see him again, Julie, please tell him

that for me." "Of course, my dear," Julie replied sympathetically. The conversation shifted, and the two friends began discussing lighter topics. When it was time to leave, Lori pretended that everything was fine, but as soon as she got into her car, away from Julie's eyes, the emotions she had been holding back overwhelmed her. Alone in her car, she broke down and cried, unable to stop the wave of sadness that consumed her.