My wife, Violet Miller, was obsessed with cleanliness. Yet I caught her peeling shrimp for a male intern at a dinner party.

I demanded a divorce on the spot.

Violet stared at me in disbelief.

“Daniel is like a younger brother to me. What’s wrong with looking after him? Are you really divorcing me over this?”

My heart ached.

Maybe... it was time to let go.

I felt nothing as I watched Violet Miller toss the glass I had just touched straight into the trash.

“I’ve already disinfected the pen, Violet. You can sign the papers now.”

Violet walked right past me toward the study, as if she hadn’t heard a word I’d said.

She thought I was just being childish and chose to ignore it until it blew over.

This time, I meant it.

I stepped in front of her and blocked the doorway.

“Look, John… It was just a bowl of shrimp. I’ve already explained it to you.

“Daniel hurt his hand a couple of days ago, and the doctor said he shouldn’t get it wet—so I helped him, that’s all.

“Besides, I’ve got an important seminar coming up. I don’t have time to indulge in your silly tantrums.”

Still, I stood my ground, refusing to budge.

After a long pause, Violet let out a soft sigh.

“I promise I’ll be more careful next time, okay? Can you let it go now?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, someone scoffed outside the door.

It was Daniel Webster.

Even without seeing his face, I knew he was mocking me.

People like him—refined, cultured, above it all—always looked down on me, an outsider who used desperate tactics to cling to his wife.

For ten years, I had loved Violet with caution, afraid that one wrong move would make her despise me.

But today, her tone—pretending to compromise while accusing me of being unreasonable—only solidified the decision in my heart.

“Sign it,” I said firmly.

Violet pressed her lips into a tight line, her eyes burning with anger.

Just then, Daniel pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He tapped his watch and pointed at it.

“Apologies, Professor Miller,” Daniel said politely.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation with Mr. Sargent, but it’s nearly time. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late.”

Violet’s patience snapped the moment she heard him.

She snatched the agreement from my hands and tore it to pieces.

“Are you trying to humiliate me today? Move. Now.”

Then she shoved me.

I wasn’t expecting it, so my lower back slammed into the sharp edge of the doorknob, pain exploding through my body.

I let out a sharp hiss.

Violet’s expression changed when she saw my face turn pale. She instinctively stepped forward, as if to check on me.

But Daniel spoke again before she could act.

“Professor? The seminar coordinator just called again to ask when you’ll be arriving. We really can’t delay any longer.”

Then he turned to me, calm and composed.

“Mr. Sargent, if this is about what happened at lunch, I apologize. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.

“But Professor Miller really must leave now. I hope you understand.”

Violet froze in her tracks as the concern on her face vanished.

“That’s enough, John,” she said harshly.

“I don’t have time for this right now. Whatever it is, we’ll talk when I get home tonight.”

With that, she turned and walked away with Daniel, never once looking back.

I watched them leave, side by side, and all I felt was a hollow, aching coldness.

Because of her obsession with cleanliness, Violet and I had slept in separate rooms for all five years of our marriage.

Even touching her required that I disinfect my hands no less than three times—under her watchful eye.

Anything of hers I accidentally came into contact with, no matter how expensive, was always tossed into the trash without hesitation, just like tonight.

I loved her. So despite the loneliness and hurt, I’d respected her rules.

But love shouldn’t mean erasing yourself.

At the lunch gathering earlier, not only did Violet peel shrimp for Daniel, she even shared a bowl with him.

Only then did I realize the truth: Violet’s so-called obsession with cleanliness was selective, and sadly, I wasn’t on the list of people she made exceptions for.

I had spent ten years trying to warm a heart that never thawed for me.

So… Why not let go and set us both free?

…

Violet and Daniel had barely left when my phone rang.

“Mr. Sargent, you’re the primary funder of this research project. Are you sure you won’t be attending the seminar today?”

The image of Daniel’s smug expression as he walked out surfaced again in my mind, and I smiled sadly.

“I’ll be there.”

Violet had earned a reputation as a medical prodigy, particularly celebrated for her breakthroughs in anti-cancer drug research.

She was admired and well respected.

What she didn’t know, however, was that every one of her projects required massive financial support.

Without that backing, even a prodigy would struggle to take a single step forward.

And I was her largest investor.

I never told her, because I didn’t want her to feel pressured or indebted to me.

All I ever wanted was her heart—freely given.

After changing and heading out, I immediately spotted Violet and Daniel standing by the roadside, looking anxious.

Only then did I remember that all the cars at home had been sent in for maintenance.

“Haven’t been able to get a ride?”

Daniel let out a helpless sigh, frustration creeping into his voice.

“This place is too remote. And with the bad weather, no drivers are accepting our request.”

“If we wait any longer, we really will be late.

“If you hadn’t insisted on making a scene, we wouldn’t be this pressed for time.”

Daniel never wasted a single chance to throw shade at me.

I ignored him and walked straight toward my private car, which had just arrived.

That was when Violet noticed me and hurried over.

“This car’s yours?” Violet asked.

“At least you’re being sensible. I’ll let what happened slide.”

She reached for the door handle, but I stopped her.

“This is my ride.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but Daniel rushed over before she could speak.

He looked slightly harassed.

“What are you doing, Mr. Sargent? What do you mean that this is your ride?”

As he spoke, he held up his phone and showed the screen to Violet.

“I booked this car. It’s not your ride, Mr. Sargent.”

Violet’s expression toward me changed instantly.

“Are you being that petty, John? You’re fighting Daniel over something this trivial?”

Daniel’s face twisted into a horrible smile.

“Sorry, Mr. Sargent. The car’s too small, so there’s no room for you. If you really need a ride, maybe try faking an illness and calling an ambulance.

“Can you face the consequences if the Professor were to arrive late?”

I pressed my lips together as anger surged behind my eyes.

Sensing the shift in my mood, the driver quickly got out of the car to explain.

“Apologies, Sir and Madam. I’m here for Mr. Sargent. Please step aside.”

He then respectfully opened the back door for me.

Violet stared at me..

“He’s here to pick you up? Where are you going?”

I didn’t respond. I simply glanced at Daniel’s phone screen and let out a cold, derisive laugh.

“You booked a Chevrolet Bolt. This one’s a Bentley. Even if you don’t recognize the emblem, surely you can read the license plate?”

Daniel’s face flushed red, then pale.

He looked at Violet with wounded eyes.

“It’s true I’m not as rich as Mr. Sargent and don’t know much about luxury cars… but does he have to humiliate me like that?

“And who knows—maybe some mistress sent that Bentley for him.”

A sharp slap cracked through the air, and a red handprint bloomed across my left cheek.

Violet’s expression turned especially dark.

“No wonder you picked a fight today and insisted on a divorce. Turns out you’ve hooked up with some skank.

“You disgust me.”

…

I pressed my tongue against the side of my face where she had slapped me.

All it took was one careless insult from Daniel, and Violet didn’t hesitate to strike me in front of everyone.

She had never truly loved me.

When I didn’t respond, she assumed I was guilty.

Right in front of me, she reached out and took Daniel’s hand. Their hands intertwined.

I pulled out my phone and snapped several photos of them together.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’ll have my lawyer send you another copy of the divorce agreement. If you still refuse to sign, I’ll file a lawsuit,” I said calmly.

“And since you’re the one at fault, don’t expect a penny from me.”

Violet stared at me for a long time. Then, overwhelmed by rage, she let out a scornful laugh.

“Don’t you dare try to threaten me with your filthy money.

“Let me be clear—even if we get a divorce, I’ll be the one to initiate it. You’re not worthy of me.”

With that, she grabbed Daniel’s hand and got into my car.

The driver looked at me, clearly caught in an awkward position.

I shook my head, unwilling to argue over something so petty, and got into the front seat.

Through the rearview mirror, I noticed their hands still tightly intertwined.

I looked away, but the image stayed in my mind.

My thoughts drifted—unbidden—to three months ago, when Violet woke in the middle of the night with a sudden pain in her stomach.

Her face had gone deathly pale. I had been so worried that I instinctively reached out to soothe her, gently pressing her abdomen.

But the moment my hand touched her pajama fabric, she doused me with scalding water.

She apologized afterward, of course. But the helpless, bitter frustration from that night lingered with me for weeks.

Maybe that was the moment I truly began to let go of my love for her.

The car soon pulled up at the exhibition center.

The moment I stepped out, Violet shot me a sharp glare and snapped, “Why are you getting out? This isn’t a place for you!”

Daniel, standing beside her, chimed in with fake concern, “Don’t say that, Professor. Maybe Mr. Sargent just wants to sit in and observe.

“He may lack a formal education, but having a heart eager to learn isn’t a bad thing, right?”

“John? Audit a seminar? He’s more likely to embarrass us,” Violet sneered.

The two took turns ridiculing me, leaving me no chance to speak.

Just then, someone walked over to greet Violet.

“Professor Miller, we meet again. The gentleman beside you must be your husband?”

Violet glanced at me coolly, then effortlessly wrapped her arm around Daniel’s.

“That’s right. This is my husband, Daniel Webster—he’s also a researcher at my institute.”

At that, the crowd immediately showered them with flattery.

“Professor Miller and Mr. Webster are a match made in heaven! Together, there’s no doubt you’ll achieve even greater things in the pharmaceutical field!”

Amid the sycophantic praise, the two walked into the conference hall, hand in hand.

Even though I had already given up on Violet long ago, watching this still stirred a dull ache in my chest.

For the many years we’d been married, no matter how busy I was, I always made it home in time to cook her dinner and draw her a bath.

I loved her with everything I had, and I did everything I could to protect our hard-won marriage.

Yet she had never once acknowledged me as her husband in front of her colleagues.

I was hurt, but I never confronted her.

I kept waiting for the day she would finally accept my love.

But all that waiting led to this: her publicly declaring another man as her husband.

In that moment, the ten years I spent loving and protecting her became nothing more than a cruel joke.