"Sweetie, are you coming? I'll wait for you at our usual spot."

Henry Lane is about to go to bed when he receives a voice message. It's spoken in Rushky. He turns his back to me as his face lights up in joy. Then, he answers in Rushky, "Of course. I love you."

I'm about to fall asleep, but I jolt when I hear that.

The sweet voice on the other end of the line rings out again. "Your wife won't find out about this, will she?"

"I'm talking to you to her face now." Henry snorts. "We're speaking in Rushky; she can't understand us."

My heart twists painfully. It turns out he's never loved or truly understood me. He thinks I'm just a housewife whose world revolves around him; he has no idea I once studied in Rushnia for two years as an exchange student.

I suppress my sorrow and heartbreak as I caress my belly. Then, I make an appointment with a local hospital for an abortion.

"Yelena, something came up at work. I need to go take a look," Henry Lane said as he got out of bed.

He placed a kiss on my forehead, his eyes filled with deep affection.

If not for those words, I would have believed that the man who loved me so dearly could never betray me.

Tears welled up as I stared at his chiseled face.

Henry took no notice of my emotions. He hurriedly got dressed and left in a rush.

I walked to the window and watched as his car drove off—in the opposite direction of his company.

That liar!

Tears spilled down my cheeks, my chest tightening with unbearable pain. It took me a long time before I could even breathe properly again.

That night, Henry returned, reeking of perfume. It was unmistakably a woman's fragrance.

I frowned in disgust and subtly moved away when he tried to wrap his arm around my waist.

Henry stiffened up and tentatively asked, "Yelena, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

Curling up in the corner, I responded halfheartedly.

Henry panicked and sat up at once, wanting to take me to the hospital.

I pulled the blanket tightly around me.

"No need. It's just a minor cold. It's not worth going to the hospital," I said hoarsely.

"Does your throat hurt? Do you feel weak?" he asked.

Henry kept rambling on, still looking as concerned as before.

But the scent on him made my skin crawl. I could no longer bury myself in his arms, asking for kisses and hugs. Even if I wanted to try to pretend, I couldn't.

When he tried to lift the blanket, insisting on taking me to the hospital, anger surged through me.

"I'm not going!" I snapped.

Henry froze. "Did I do something wrong? Just tell me, and I'll change."

I had never spoken to him so harshly before, so understandably, Henry was startled. He looked at me with a hint of grievance.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. He had slept with another woman, and now he wanted to act pitiful?

Just thinking about sleeping beside such a filthy man made my stomach clench, and I felt a surge of revulsion.

I swallowed hard and slapped his hand away when he reached for my cheek.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he mumbled before hurrying out of the bedroom.

I heard him rummaging through the drawers in the living room. A moment later, he returned with a box of cold medicine and a cup of warm water.

He handed me the medicine and water, and I forced myself to take the pill despite feeling nauseous.

When Henry wasn't looking, I spat it out.

Even though I had already scheduled an abortion in three days, just thinking about the tiny life inside me made me instinctively reject the medicine.

That night, for the first time, Henry and I slept with our backs to each other.

…

The following day, Henry woke up early and made me hard-boiled eggs and oatmeal. He placed them in front of me.

"Are you still feeling unwell?" he asked.

The look of concern remained on his face, yet I felt nothing but a rising sense of annoyance.

The eggs and oatmeal held no appeal to me. I forced down a few spoonfuls of oatmeals while Henry remained absorbed in his phone. Soon, the same Rushky-speaking woman's voice from the previous night filled the room again.

"Sweetie, I twisted my ankle. Can you come check on me?" she asked.

A flicker of worry crossed his face as he quickly replied in Rushky, "Honey, I'll be there soon."

Then, turning to me, he softened his voice. "Babe, there's an emergency at work. I—"

"Ah. Go ahead," I cut him off, my voice indifferent.

He didn't notice the displeasure in my tone.

Eager to meet the other woman, he hurriedly changed out of his loungewear and into a suit. He then grabbed his briefcase and rushed out.

Silence filled the room.

Cold, hard-boiled eggs sat on the plate, and the oatmeal congealed, neither touched. I finally stood up and scraped them into the trash.

Pouring myself a glass of warm water, I stirred in some honey and drank it.

On my way to the diner for an acai bowl, a notification popped up—an Instagram follow request.

The profile picture was dark, exuding an air of mystery.

I hesitated for a moment, then accepted it.

A voice message popped up, spoken in clumsy Crestese.

"Henry loves me, not you. Hurry up and divorce him."

I immediately realized who this person was. There was no mistaking the voice.

Another message soon followed, ruder than the first.

"The one who is unloved is the third party. Leave already."

I stared at my phone, unimpressed. Is this all she got? Henry chose a woman like this?

I had no idea how she got my Instagram, but I was sure she was an idiot.

Still, I had no energy to dwell on trivial matters.

Ignoring her, I took a cab to the hospital. After getting my number, I quietly waited by the door.

For a brief moment, I hesitated, wondering if this child would blame me. But upon further thought, I realized she probably wouldn't.

Given her father's betrayal and scandalous life, the constant public shame, could she truly find happiness?

No. It would be better if she were never born.

Henry knew my character; I had zero tolerance for cheating.

When we first married, he made a grand declaration.

"Yelena, I will spend my life treating you well. I will never cheat. If I break this vow, I will lose everything and die a miserable death."

Back then, I believed him.

At first, he lived up to his words.

He knew I loved the pasta from the southern part of the city, so he took me there often. If I were too lazy to go, he'd brave the wind and snow just to bring it back.

When I was sick, he panicked more than I did, wishing he could take my pain instead.

During my worst menstrual cramps, he warmed my stomach with his hands, massaging it gently.

Little things like that made me trust him. But once he cheated, all of it—every tender moment, every sweet gesture—became meaningless. Even the love he once showed me now felt like a cruel joke.

"Yelena Stone, you chose the wrong person." I thought.

A voice then pulled me back from my thoughts. It was my turn.

The cold table pressed against my back as I closed my eyes, waiting for the procedure. Tears escaped, tracing paths into my unkempt hair.

When I woke up, I was already in a hospital bed.

"Drink this first. You've been weak these past two days, so take good care of yourself." Willow Ford, my friend, looked at me with concern.

I had called her before the procedure. After all, going through this alone was risky. If anything went wrong, someone had to be there.

Willow brought me my favorite chicken noodle soup. I ate in small bites, but the more I ate, the more tears fell.

Aware of what I'd gone through, Willow desperately wiped away my tears, but they wouldn't stop.

She stood, agitated, and paced, muttering curses. "That scumbag!" she spat out.

Then, taking a steadying breath, she asked, "Yelena, does Henry know?"

I shook my head. My face was still ashen from the procedure. "I was going to tell him last night, but…" I trailed off, recalling his lively conversation with that Rushnian woman on Instagram.

Willow sighed deeply. "So, what are you planning to do now?"

I thought for a moment and then replied, "Divorce, of course. Why keep a man like that around?"

The New Year was approaching, and I didn't want to carry that baggage into the new year.

Willow nodded. "I didn't expect Henry to hide it so well. I truly believed you'd found a loyal partner, but he proved me wrong."

I took a deep breath, attempting to settle the turmoil within me.

After a period of rest on the hospital bed, Willow escorted me home.

…

By noon, Henry still hadn't come home.

Normally, by this time, he would've made lunch and checked on me, doting on me like I was his entire world.

At the start of our marriage, I was the envy of my peers, who remarked on my perfect husband and the blessed life ahead of me.

Suddenly, my phone chimed with a notification from Instagram.

I opened the message and saw a photo from the Rushnian woman who'd added me that morning.

It showed Henry kneeling, applying ointment to her ankle, his face a mask of tender concern. Then came her message, saying, "Yelena, your husband is very good to me. He likes me a lot. I twisted my foot, and he came over immediately without even catching his breath."

The clumsy Crestese voice messages continued, and I, in annoyance, blocked her.

I began packing my things.

My belongings were few; I'd always lived minimally, accumulating only essential clothing and furniture in the past three years.

There were many potted plants and trinkets in the living room, all of which Henry had bought.

I packed a few clothes into my suitcase, placed my ID into my handbag, grabbed the suitcase, and left without looking back.

I then booked a flight to Ausnia, which was 36 hundred miles away from Crestia.

When Willow heard about my decision, she hugged me tightly. "You need to rest well since you just had an abortion," she reminded me.

On the way to the airport, I passed by Henry's Maybach. A woman with a high nose and deep-set eyes sat in the front passenger seat. Her golden, slightly curled hair cascaded over her shoulders, enhancing her exotic charm.

Meanwhile, I was wrapped up in a thick down jacket, a fluffy hat, a mask, and gloves. From head to toe, I was hidden.

Henry didn't recognize that the black-clad woman dragging a suitcase was me.

His luxury car was parked by the roadside, and the stunning Rushnian woman was practically draped over him. Soon, they were kissing passionately.

I didn't bother watching. Instead, I kept walking—until Willow's call came in.

There was hesitation on the other end.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She replied, "I saw your husband with a Rushnian woman…"

She must have been nearby and witnessed the same scene. And like me, she must have been disgusted.

"It's fine," I said with a cold smile.

On the other end of the line, Willow sighed.

"I'll drop you off. I had something earlier, so I couldn't be there. Send me your location, and I'll drive to you."

Willow then hung up.

In less than five minutes, a stylish red Mercedes pulled up beside me. The window rolled down, revealing Willow's slightly flushed cheeks.

"The car's warm. Get in. It's about an hour's drive to the airport. I'll take you there."

I nodded, placed my suitcase in the trunk, and sat in the passenger seat.

We chatted casually on the drive. An hour later, we arrived at the airport's international terminal.

Willow accompanied me inside.

My flight was at 4:00 pm, so I waited in the lounge for a while. That was when I came across a trending video. The caption read, "Shocking news! Business tycoon Henry Lane is actually tying a woman's shoelaces!"

I tapped on it.

The video only showed the woman's lower body—a white skirt, delicate, fair legs, one foot slightly extended. Her shoelace had come undone.

A man in casual clothes was kneeling before her, carefully tying her shoe. His expression was soft, tender.

That same face had once looked at me with such affection. But now…

In the comments, people swooned over him.

"Ah! If only he were my husband!"

"Henry is so gentle and considerate. His wife must have saved the world in her past life!"

"Which lucky woman got to marry Henry? Oh my God, I'm going to faint!"

"Quick! Show your face and let everyone see what Henry's wife looks like."

"I heard Henry was married, but I didn't expect that after three years, his relationship with his wife is still so good!"

Everyone talked about how wonderful Henry was and how lucky his wife must be. I scoffed, but my tears still fell.

I closed the video and quietly waited for boarding.

"Don't be sad," Willow murmured, handing me a tissue. "Henry's not worth your tears."

She wasn't great at comforting people, but she was trying her best.

I hugged her tightly. "Goodbye. Take care of yourself."

"You too. When you get to Ausnia, eat well, sleep well, and have fun. Make new friends—don't just stay home alone."

I thanked Willow for her concern.

"Attention all passengers of Ausnia Airlines flight JQ5015. Your flight is now boarding. Please proceed to gate 12 if you have not boarded yet. Thank you for your cooperation."

After hearing this announcement, I left to board the plane. Willow watched me leave before turning to go.

I massaged my temples and wearily turned off my phone. Exhausted, I sank into my seat and drifted into sleep.

The flight from Crestia to Ausnia was about ten hours. When we landed, I turned my phone back on. There were dozens of missed calls and all of them were from Henry.

I hesitated. What was this about? Had he finally noticed my absence? Was he regretting it now? Was he trying to win me back?

Too bad—I didn't need him anymore.

But the phone kept ringing, and I had no choice but to pick up his call.

As soon as the call connected, Henry's frantic voice came through. "Yelena, where are you? Why can't I find you anywhere?"

I pursed my lips and sneered. "Henry, how's it going with your little lover? She twisted her ankle, right? How is she now?"

Henry fell silent for a moment before he hurriedly said, "Yelena, listen to me. Our relationship isn't what you think."

Even now, he was still trying to justify himself and avoid taking responsibility.

He always played me for a fool, thinking he could get away with anything because I was clueless.

What a habitual liar!

"So, what is it? Is it the kind of relationship where you end up in bed together?" I retorted.

There was a long silence on the other end before he hoarsely replied, "How do you know? We always communicated in Rushky… Could it be that you—"

I scoffed. "Henry, you never really knew me. I can understand Rushky. I lived in Rushnia for two whole years. Also, I left you a little gift on the table in the living room."

Soon after, I heard the sound of a box hitting the floor, followed by a distant shout.