"We partied too hard last night and forgot to use protection—don't forget to buy morning-after pills for your wife."

Looking at the woman's smooth bare back and the red mole on her neck in the photo, I felt absolutely nothing.

Again.

Five years of marriage, and this wasn't the first time.

Kathy liked to test me this way. She called it her "little experiment."

The first time, she "accidentally" left a receipt for condoms on the nightstand. I got angry and confronted her, but she just smiled with contempt. "Why are you so petty? My girlfriends and I bought that on purpose just to see how you'd react."

The second time was on our wedding anniversary. A guy showed up at our door with a bouquet of roses, ready to propose to her right then and there. I got into a fistfight with him, fell down a flight of stairs, and broke three ribs. That's when she finally strolled out and told me the guy was an actor, and the whole thing was supposed to be a surprise for me.

Five years. Her games kept getting more extreme. From flirty texts to explicit photos, she kept pushing my limits. And I'd gone from furious to completely numb.

Since she loved testing me so much, fine—I'd give her exactly what she wanted.

When I saw the message, I didn't feel any anger or betrayal. All I felt was exhaustion.

Five years of marriage. I'd lost count of how many times this had happened.

Her so-called "tests" were just extreme games designed to break me down, so she could stand on moral high ground and lecture me afterward. And every time, I was left to piece my broken heart back together alone, while she proudly bragged about how well she had trained me.

This time, I didn't react. I calmly turned off my phone and drove home.

I opened the front door.

The living room lights were dim. Kathy Bolton was curled up on the couch, casually popping a plump strawberry into her mouth. When she heard the door open, she looked up at me. There was a flicker of anticipation in her eyes, along with a hint of smug confidence.

I knew exactly what was going through her mind.

She expected me to see the obvious clues she'd left behind and lose my mind—screaming, interrogating her, demanding answers. She expected me to fall apart so she could play the innocent victim and accuse me of not trusting her enough. She loves that sense of control. She loves trapping me in her twisted game and calling it "love."

But not this time. I'm tired. And I'm done.

I didn't rush to check her phone like I used to. I didn't ask where she'd been or who she'd seen. I didn't even give her a second look. I just walked to the entryway, set down my briefcase, and pulled out the divorce papers I'd spent the last month preparing.

The pages were thin, but they felt as heavy as the five-year weight crushing my chest.

I walked to the couch and placed the papers gently on the coffee table in front of her.

"Take a look," I said. My voice was calm. Completely flat. Like I was commenting on the weather.

"If everything looks good, sign it."

Kathy froze mid-bite, the strawberry still between her fingers. The smugness drained from her face. The anticipation in her eyes flickered and died, replaced by pure shock. She looked down at the papers, then snapped her head back up at me.

"What… did you just say?" Her voice wavered, thick with disbelief.

She shot up from the couch, her silk throw blanket sliding to the floor. "Sean, have you lost your mind? Do you even know what day it is today? It's our fifth wedding anniversary!"

Her voice kept rising, teetering on hysterical.

I looked at her, feeling nothing but cold sarcasm. "I know. And not just our anniversary. It's also the fifty-third time you've 'tested' me. Right on schedule."

Kathy went pale. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet mine.

After a long pause, she grabbed her phone with trembling fingers and fumbled to unlock it. "Sean, please, let me explain. It's not what you think. That group photo on my feed—I Photoshopped it. I was just trying to get a rise out of you. And those texts from the random guy? That was my burner account. I didn't cheat on you, I swear. I just… I just wanted to see how much you still care about me. I wanted to see if you'd still fight for me like you used to."

Her voice cracked. Tears welled up in her eyes. She looked desperate.

I watched her performance and felt nothing but exhaustion and bitter self-contempt.

"Care about you? I cared about you so much that I put up with every single one of these stunts. I cared so much that I believed every pathetic excuse you threw at me. I cared so much that I turned myself into a paranoid, jealous wreck who couldn't trust his own judgment anymore.

"Well, congratulations, Kathy. You did it. You burned through every last ounce of love I had for you. You finally made sure I don't trust you anymore. And you made sure I don't love you anymore.

"So let's get a divorce."

When I finished speaking, I turned and headed to the bedroom to pack my things.

I didn't want to waste any more words on Kathy. I didn't want to see her fake, manipulative face anymore. The "tests" she disguised as love were never love. They were a slow, drawn-out torture—ripping apart my trust in her piece by piece, draining every last bit of hope I had for this marriage.

For five years, I'd told her over and over: I hate being tested. I hate being suspected. I told her that marriage is built on trust and honesty. But she never listened. She only cared about her own feelings. She only cared about keeping me under her thumb.

"Sean, no!" Kathy suddenly lunged forward and grabbed my wrist.

Her hand was cold and trembling.

"I'm sorry, Sean. I really mean it. I won't test you anymore. I won't act out anymore. Just forgive me this once, okay? Let's not get divorced. Let's just… be normal. Please."

Her tears fell onto the back of my hand, ice cold. In the past, seeing her cry would have broken me. I would have caved. But now? I just felt numb.

"It's too late."

Slowly, firmly, I pulled my hand away. My eyes were cold. Distant.

"I gave you chances. The first time you put another woman's hair on my coat to test me, I told you I hated it. The first time you faked those sexting screenshots to show me, I told you never to do it again. But you? You ignored everything I said. You kept pushing my limits. You kept pushing me to the edge. And now… it's too late for any of that."

Kathy stood frozen, tears streaming down her face. She looked at me with desperate, unwilling eyes.

I didn't say another word. I walked into the bedroom, opened the closet, and pulled out the suitcase I'd packed weeks ago. There wasn't much inside—just a few changes of clothes and some important documents. This marriage had given me so little and left me with so much pain.

I zipped the suitcase shut and walked back out.

Kathy was still standing there, staring at me with empty eyes.

Just as I reached the front door, she suddenly ran at me and wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, holding on tight.

"Sean, you can't leave! You can't just abandon me!"

Her voice cracked, raw with desperation.

"I'm pregnant! Sean, I'm pregnant! Do you want our baby to grow up without a father?"

I stopped in my tracks.

Pregnant?

For a second, I hesitated. Then it hit me. This was just another one of her tricks. Another desperate attempt to keep me trapped.

We hadn't been intimate in nearly a year. I'd spent every single day consumed by her games, her suspicion, her endless tests. I was exhausted. Completely drained. There was no way she was pregnant.

I turned around slowly and looked at her tear-streaked face. I had to admit—her acting had gotten good. The wounded look in her eyes, the trembling in her body, the desperation in her voice… it would have fooled anyone.

But five years of lies and manipulation had left me completely hollow. I wasn't going to believe another word out of her mouth.

"Oh, really? You're pregnant."

My voice was flat. Emotionless. Like I was talking about the weather.

"Fine. Then let's go to the hospital right now. If the test comes back and you really are carrying my child, I'll pretend none of this ever happened. We'll start over. We'll make it work."

Kathy's crying stopped instantly.

Panic flashed across her face. She stammered for a moment before finally managing, "I-it's too late for that. The hospital… they're closed. Let's just go tomorrow, okay?"

I almost laughed. Fake. Of course, it was fake.

I didn't call her out. I just pulled out my phone, unlocked the screen, and started dialing. "No problem. Private clinics are open twenty-four hours. I'll call one right now and book an appointment. We're going. If you're really pregnant, I'll bring you straight home and take care of you myself."

Kathy's face went white. She shrieked and lunged for my phone, grabbing at my hand.

"No! Sean, don't call! Please!"

Her face was pale as a ghost. Her eyes were wide with pure terror.