Seven years into our marriage, I went to the hospital as usual to bring Jason Gunn lunch.

But as I stood outside his office, I overheard his colleagues teasing him about a patient, calling her his girlfriend.

To my shock, Jason didn't deny it—he simply smiled and allowed it.

I placed the lunchbox down and turned to leave.

He rushed after me, angrily accusing me of being unreasonable.

"Zara is just a patient, someone who had surgery. She can't be stressed out. I'm a doctor! Can't you, as my wife, understand that?"

In the past, I would have exploded, causing a scene and making the entire hospital chaotic.

But now, I didn't care anymore.

When Jason Gunn got home, I was already lying in bed.

He had messaged me last night, saying he was at the hospital because of stomach pain, so I called him, but his phone was off.

I woke up early today to make him some soup and bring it to the hospital. If I hadn't seen him laughing and flirting with Zara Ferguson, I would've genuinely been concerned for him.

As he climbed into bed, the mattress dipped slightly under his weight. He wrapped his arms around my waist and whispered, "Honey, why didn't you wait for me to come to bed?"

If it were the old me, I would have wrapped my arms around his neck, eagerly responding to his subtle invitation. But now, I just wanted to get some sleep.

Seeing me stay silent, he took my left hand, gently stroking it.

"The soup was delicious. I drank it all. But be careful next time. I saw you burned your hands. Let me put some medicine on it," he spoke.

The cool ointment quickly spread through my palm. He kissed my left hand lightly and went to take a shower.

The sound of water started in the bathroom, and his phone, which had been lying on the coffee table, began to ring nonstop.

As a heart surgeon, Jason often got late-night calls from the hospital. Afraid of missing an urgent call, I picked up the phone.

Before I could speak, a soft voice came from the other end.

"Dr. Gunn, was dinner good? I learned a new recipe and will make you meatballs tomorrow."

Before I could respond, the phone was snatched away from me.

"I told you not to pick up my calls." Jason's voice was sharp.

His hand brushed against my burn, and the force was so strong it tore a layer of skin. Blood began to flow.

I gasped, clutching my hand. Jason, after telling the caller to call back later, grabbed my wrist roughly.

"You're an idiot. You can't even cook and still try to make soup. Now, look. You've burned yourself. Serves you right! Sit down! I'll treat the wound."

It was summer, and if the wound wasn't treated quickly, it could easily get infected.

I sat on the couch while Jason retrieved the first-aid kit from his study. He kneeled in front of me to clean the burn.

Sighing, his tone softened. "Does it hurt, Honey?"

I didn't respond. His touch became gentler, and I could feel him blowing on my wound softly, trying to soothe my pain.

When he stood up, a keychain fell from his bag. I picked it up and examined it closely—there was a dog and a cat on it, with the words, [Jason, I hope you'll be happy every day. From Zara.]

Jason frowned slightly. "This was a gift from her when she was discharged. I just kept it."

I placed the keychain on the coffee table, keeping my voice calm. "That's thoughtful."

For a moment, the atmosphere in the room felt thick, almost frozen.

Jason stared at me, bewildered. "Do you want me to keep it? Aren't you going to throw it away?"

I looked up, confused. "Why would I throw it away? A good doctor-patient relationship is something to be happy about."

His surprise was exactly what I expected. In the past, I would have been angry and thrown away anything related to another woman.

But now, these small tricks didn't stir any emotions in me.

He seemed to want to say more, but suddenly there was a loud thunderclap, and the entire room plunged into darkness—the power had gone out.

I couldn't help but flinch when the lights went out, and Jason immediately pulled me into his arms, speaking softly to calm me. "Don't be scared. I'm here."

I had mild night blindness, so the dark terrified me. Jason whispered reassuring words as he reached for the candles.

Just then, his phone rang again.

The sound of Zara crying echoed loudly in the otherwise quiet room.

"Dr. Gunn, the power's out at my place, and I'm really scared. I can hardly breathe right now."

Without a second thought, Jason put down the candle he was holding and grabbed his car keys to head out the door.

"Zara's not feeling well. I'll go check on her and be right back. You light the candle in the meantime."

With the phone dead, I clumsily fumbled around for the candle and lighter he left behind, but the candle didn't even have a wick, making it impossible to light.

In my panic, I bumped my waist hard against the table edge, and sharp pain shot through me. Just as I was about to fall, I caught myself with my hands, but my burned skin got jostled again. I ended up collapsing onto the floor, gasping for air, like a stranded fish.

The storm raged outside, and I sat there hugging my knees on the couch, waiting for three long hours, but Jason never returned.

The next morning, Jason arrived at the door, looking haggard, his collar faintly marked with a pink lipstick stain. He frowned as he pressed the doorbell.

"I didn't have my keys last night. I knocked all night, but you didn't respond."

It had rained all night, and I hadn't slept a wink. I hadn't heard any knocking at the door.

"The hotel bed was so hard and uncomfortable. I barely slept."

If it were before, hearing him complain, I would have rushed to comfort him, maybe even given him a massage. But now, I just calmly sipped my soup, not even bothering to glance his way.

He quickly walked over to me, eager to explain.

"I swear I slept at the hotel down the block last night. Look, I even brought you your favorite burritos from downstairs. I figured you must have been craving them."

I glanced at the burritos but didn't touch them. They were from the place I used to frequent.

Back when we first married, our careers were just starting, and we barely made enough to cover our mortgage. This restaurant was cheap, and their burritos were huge and filling, so I ate there for seven years.

Just then, a notification popped up on my phone from Twitter. Zara had posted a picture of a lavish candlelit dinner with the caption, [A 6'2" cardiologist who's both a gentleman and a great cook—Jason, the perfect man.]

I calmly closed my phone as Jason picked up the burrito and held it to my mouth.

"Eat it while it's hot. It won't taste as nice when it's cold."

The greasy smell of the burrito lingered in my nose, and I instinctively raised my hand to block it. The burrito fell to the floor.

Jason slammed his hand on the table, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"All I did was leave you alone for a little while. I even prepared the candles for you. Is it really necessary for you to act like this? I'm a doctor. I have a responsibility to my patients. If something had happened to Zara last night, you and I would both have to live with that guilt for the rest of our lives!"

I picked up the burrito and threw it into the trash, not even looking back. "I respect your profession. I have no objections."

But he didn't let it go. He grabbed my wrist.

"We've been married for seven years, and you're still playing these silly games? You watch too many dramas. This isn't some high school romance."

When I was younger, I used to watch those idol dramas and cry and laugh at other people's love stories. Jason would always be there, dumping cold water on my fantasies, calling me a fool for letting love cloud my judgment.

Now, as I'd gotten older, if I didn't follow his wishes, he accused me of playing these mind games like the women in those dramas.

If I put on any makeup or dress up a little, he'd mock me, "Seriously? Pink? Do you think you're a little girl?"

Then, he'd watch as I carefully removed my makeup and slipped into my loungewear, only leaving when he was satisfied.

I didn't feel a thing as I heard these old words that used to sting. I just looked at him with a bored expression and glanced away.

I went to the bedroom and changed into a black V-neck fitted dress. Then I sprayed on some perfume, grabbed my bag, and walked to the door.

"Where are you going?" His voice, laced with irritation, rang out behind me.

"Just some errands," I replied, not looking back.

In the past, Jason never cared about where I went.

He genuinely believed that no matter where I went, the only place I'd truly belong was by his side.

But today, it felt like the sun had risen in the west. He was suddenly asking a million questions, digging deep into where I was going and why.

It wasn't until I stepped into the car and pressed the gas pedal that his endless chatter finally stopped, leaving me in silence.

The fashion studio run by my best friend, Marilyn Lanister, had its grand opening today, and she invited me to cut the ribbon and join the celebration.

When she saw me, her eyes lit up. "Wow, it's been ages since I've seen you dress like this! Doesn't your guy mind?"

I smiled and handed her my gift. "I'll wear whatever I want. He has no say in it."

She eagerly took the present with a sly grin. "That's right. You still have it. You're as stunning as ever."

As the night went on with drinks flowing freely, I realized how long it had been since I'd relaxed this much.

But even with my phone on silent, it kept buzzing non-stop.

Marilyn, her face flushed from the alcohol, glanced at my phone and warned, "Twelve missed calls. I think your husband is losing it."

I turned the phone over and took another sip from my glass.

After a few more rounds of drinks, I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs to wait for my ride, only to spot Jason standing on the neon-lit street corner, his face twisted in anger.

"Wynter, really? You didn't answer your phone, and it turns out you came here to get drunk? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

He called off the driver, picked me up by the waist, and threw me into the backseat of the car.

The cramped space felt suffocating as he pinned my hands down. His eyes, filled with an all-too-familiar hunger, bore into me.

He leaned in slowly, pressing his lips against mine, but I pushed him away before he could go any further.

"Aren't you done with your tantrum? I'm your husband—can't I even kiss you?"

The alcohol in my system started to fade, and I sat up, fixing my disheveled clothes. I said coldly, "Just go home."

Jason had always been busy with work, so when he was home, I used to crave his attention, his closeness.

Back when he'd read medical journals on the couch, I'd snuggle up to him for a kiss. But even then, he'd reject me—just like I rejected him now—leaving me feeling cold and empty inside.

When he saw the determined rejection in my eyes, he froze for a moment, then slammed the car door shut and sped off without a word.

Back home, I grabbed his blanket and carried it to the guest room. "I've had a rough night after drinking, and I don't want to disturb you, since you have work tomorrow. You'll sleep in the guest room."

The finality in my voice left no room for argument. Jason's face darkened, but he said nothing as he walked to the guest room.

I used to crave being close to him in bed, even when it was just the two of us in that large bed. But now, I found it peaceful to sleep alone in the space.

The next morning, Jason was already gone for work. On the table, there was a cold serving of burrito and milk.

Burrito again. I was so tired of it...

I packed up the food and went downstairs to feed the stray cats. While waiting for the elevator, I came across a job posting from my old company.

Three years ago, Jason got promoted to deputy head of department, and I had quit my job to stay home and support him.

I quickly texted my old boss, who had once appreciated my work. Not long after, I got a reply.

Just then, my phone rang again. It was my mother, Stacey Irvin.

Her loud voice came through the phone immediately.

"Wynter, I saw Jason at the hospital with some woman, all over each other! Your mother-in-law even brought her food! You need to come here, and I'll set things straight for you!"

As soon as my mother hung up, Jason's call came through, his tone anxious.

"Stacey must've misunderstood. Don't mind what she said. Just... don't take it to heart."