It was only in the eighth year of our marriage that I discovered my husband had a mistress in the neighborhood.

Her place had the same layout as mine, except her furnishings were more luxurious.

He was a good husband for her, meticulously caring for his young and beautiful wife.

They were even expecting a baby.

She sent me a message, eager to get rid of and replace me.

She had forgotten I was the one who had been through hard times with him, Clyde Sherwood, and fought alongside him for more than a decade.

Her pregnancy was what they both wanted, but there was no way I would allow things to work out the way they anticipated.

Taking advantage of his conflicted feelings, I made sure he didn't have any more assets.

Everything came with a price. Not only would I make him fall from grace, but I would also make him rot in ruins.

Discovering the Affair

An unknown number messaged me a picture.

My husband, Clyde Sherwood, showed up in a baby store instead of going on a business trip as planned. The picture showed him gently putting his arm around a woman.

She was lifting her belly with one hand and drawing the other behind to support her back. It was a typical pregnant woman's posture.

They would exchange opinions regarding a displayed good from time to time, resembling future parents who looked forward to their child's birth.

My mind instantly went blank at the sight. I couldn't process what I had seen.

I dialed his number, but he didn't answer the call.

Instead, he sent me a message, saying he was in a meeting.

After staring at the message for a long time, I finally grabbed the car key and headed out.

I needed to see it before I believed it.

I recognized the shopping mall in the picture. It was just nearby. I would arrive at my destination in twenty minutes by car if I drove fast.

…

When I arrived, the pair was still browsing for a stroller in the store.

Clyde had a gentle smile on his face. He would occasionally run his hands over the surface of the stroller as he talked to the woman. He also consulted the shopping guide, treating the matter seriously as if evaluating the investment value of a big project.

The sight was touching, but somehow it stung my eyes.

The last time he accompanied me on a shopping trip was like a lifetime ago. I had to force him to join me that time. He was glued to the couch the whole time.

He would agree with whatever I chose, but those were more of a perfunctory response instead of a genuine answer.

The man in the store was like a stranger to me.

I suddenly felt dizzy.

I patiently waited at the public seating as my husband and his mistress picked out essentials for their baby.

…

About two hours later, they got everything they wanted.

I watched as he checked out at the counter and gave the cashier the delivery address. Then, the pair left the store arm in arm in good spirits.

His smile froze when he spotted me.

The woman beside him visibly tensed when she noticed me. She reached out for his hand for comfort.

I glanced at their joined hands and forced myself to smile. Meeting his eyes, I asked, "Do you want to tell me something?"

Clyde regained his composure after the initial panic. He handed her the things they bought and the car key he was holding, softly urging, "Go on without me."

She cast a nervous look at me. Chewing her lip, she nodded in reluctance.

He stroked her back soothingly.

It was the last straw.

Driven by anger, I squared up to the woman and extended an arm to stop her. "Where are you going? It's not every day I find my husband cheating on me. We need to talk now. Don't you dare run—"

Clyde put a hand on my shoulder, but I threw his hand off.

"Get your hand off me!" The way he shared an intimate moment with her earlier made me nauseous.

His eyes widened in disbelief. He had never expected me to swat his hand away.

He was on the verge of losing his temper, but he changed his mind after reading the emotions stirring in my eyes—hatred and hurt. He softly said, "It's not what it looks like, Anya. Let's go home. I'll tell you everything at home."

I returned his gaze mockingly, a wry smile curling my lips. "It's exactly what it looks like! You have been unfaithful and have been having an affair! And now she's carrying your child!"

I screamed at him, and a pang struck my chest.

At that moment, realization belatedly dawned on me. The man I had loved for twelve years had cheated on me.

I closed my eyes as I announced, "Let's get a divorce, Clyde."

Decided to Get a Divorce

Clyde's arms encircled me as soon as the words left me.

With a shaky voice, he pleaded, "You don't mean that, Anya. I promise there's an explanation. Let's go home, and I'll explain everything."

Bystanders started to glance at us with interest. I gave in, not wanting to become the center of attention online.

When we returned home, I sat stone-faced on the sofa and waited for his explanation.

He hesitated momentarily before crouching at my feet and looking up at me.

He had humbled himself.

I felt a bitter taste in my mouth.

He had always been a proud man and rarely showed me his vulnerable side.

He only allowed himself to be vulnerable once after learning I sold the property I inherited from my parents to bridge his financing gap.

Like he did today, he crouched at my feet, looking at me with guilt and helplessness in his eyes.

At that time, his expression pained me at first glance. I didn't have the heart to watch him swallow his pride.

But today, I just found him fake and pretentious. It was a fact that he cheated on me. I didn't understand why he looked repentant now. Thinking it was pointless, I looked away.

His attempt to appeal to my compassion didn't work, so he began to explain. "She's a neighbor from my hometown. When I visited my hometown last year, I witnessed her parents forcing her to marry an old man in the neighborhood, but she refused to. When she saw me, she begged me to take her with me, saying she would leave home at all costs.

"During that time, I frequently dreamed of my parents. In my dreams, they told me they couldn't rest peacefully because we didn't have kids. Then, a daring idea occurred to me. I asked if she would like to be the surrogate mother of my child. I would pay her handsomely to thank her for her efforts and ensure she lived a comfortable life after that. She agreed to it, and we…"

He was sidetracked instead of finishing the story. "I don't want you to see me as an irresponsible man who went back on his word. After all, we agreed not to have children when we got married. But I changed my mind later, trying to fulfil my parents' dying wish. That's why I have been keeping it a secret from you. Anya, I swear no infidelity took place. I just want my parents to rest in peace. Can you forgive me?"

My stomach churned.

He gave his behavior a plausible reason. I would be unreasonable if I got angry at him or blamed him.

After all, I told him I had partial ovarian dysgenesis and was infertile.

Like his father, he was the only child in his nuclear family. His parents passed away when he was young, so he had always dreamed of having a family.

He crouched at my feet, a sad look on his usually stoic face.

I would have believed him if I hadn't received the picture from the unknown number this afternoon. It was a reminder that he had committed cheating and would say anything to justify his actions.

He was lying. I was sure of it.

I doubted what he said was the whole truth.

She was her neighbor, and they had known each other since their youth—that was certain.

The rest were excuses.

He promised to cut ties with her after she gave birth to his child and guaranteed everything would remain the same between us.

I thought that was impossible. We were talking about his child, and family bonds were the strongest.

He would never be able to cut ties with the mother of his child once it was born.

My limbs went cold.

I asked him to give me time.

That night, we shared a bed, but we slept facing away from each other for the first time.

Between wakefulness and sleep, I felt Clyde habitually pulling me into an embrace and putting a palm under my belly to keep me warm.

We had a difficult financial situation and could only afford a damp basement in the past, and I would get chills in the winter.

It was worse if I was in my period. The painful experience would keep me awake the entire night.

During the nights, he would take me in his arms, rub his hands to warm them, and cover my belly with one.

He still did that for me, even when our lives were better.

He would pull me into his arms even in slumber.

He did it out of habit, not to pretend.

I was certain deep down he still loved me.

However, the same person cheated on me. Even after I discovered his affair, he still lied to me.

I drew his hand away, deciding to divorce him.

It wasn't a wise choice. His cheating only made a small impact on our marital assets division if I divorced him. I could only expect 10% of the share in this situation.

However, it didn't matter anymore.

Twelve years had passed since I first met him in college.

I believed our passion was real. Therefore, I didn't want us to end on bad terms.

Visiting the Mistress

The next morning, Clyde miraculously made me breakfast, clearly intending to please me.

Since expanding his business scale, he hadn't made me breakfast in a long time.

What I used to think was a sweet gesture now seemed worthless.

I disposed of the food. Then, I returned to the baby store and asked for the delivery address he had left.

I didn't want a confrontation. I simply wanted to put an end to our marriage. I was curious about how far he would go to protect her.

I couldn't help but be surprised when I looked at the address.

Doubts gnaw at me. I wondered whether I had wrongly accused Clyde.

It was in the neighbourhood. All it took was a five-minute walk to his mistress' place.

"The best place to hide something is in plain sight, isn't it?" I thought.

Before I realized it, I had crumpled the paper.

I calmed my running thoughts and knocked on the door.

The woman I met yesterday answered the door.

With an exaggerated look, she put a hand on her belly, making sure I wouldn't miss what she did.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. Despite her surprised expression, a smug grin flashed across her face.

My gaze lingered on her belly before I scoffed. "Everything went according to your plan. You sent me the picture and gave the baby store your address, all because you want me to come here."

She didn't expect my straightforwardness. After the initial surprise, her grin grew wider. "You're cleverer than I thought."

She blocked the doorway, holding her chin high, looking nothing like the timid woman I met yesterday. She didn't match the description of an abused daughter, either.

"Aren't you inviting me in?" I asked calmly, my tone betraying no emotion.

Stepping aside, she made a gesture of inviting me in, but her smile was unkind.

Walking into her place threw me off guard.

Her presence was the only thing that reminded me I had left home.

Her house's layout mirrored mine. The only difference was that she had luxurious furnishings.

Watching me touch the dining table, she smirked triumphantly. "Isn't it a lovely dining table? It's a foreign brand, worth hundreds of thousands. I don't know much about furniture, but Clyde liked it and insisted on buying it. He likes to treat me with indulgence. That's just the kind of man he is. "

I recognized it as one of the world's top home furnishing brands.

The same table had caught my eye when Clyde and I visited a furniture exhibition two years ago.

He suggested purchasing the table, but I persuaded him otherwise. It was too expensive for a piece of furniture.

I remembered him getting upset at my decision, but he didn't dwell on the matter.

Now I knew he had gotten it for his second home.

'His second home.' My heart ached at the thought.

I scanned my surroundings. Two pairs of slippers lay side by side in the hallway, and two cartoon couple mugs adorned the dining table.

Her place was full of life, resembling more like a loving couple's home than the house Clyde and I shared.

My dejected look didn't escape her. It fueled her enthusiasm and confidence as she brought my attention to every corner of her house.

"Did you see that silly mug? At first, Clyde didn't even want to use it. He claimed the mug didn't match a man of his status. However, he eventually got used to it because I'm fond of them."

A memory pushed itself to the front of my mind as I stared at the mugs.

I once bought matching electric toothbrushes for Clyde and me. One was blue and the other was pink.

I initially hoped he could make do with the blue one, but he thought blue didn't suit him and refused to use it.

I tried my very best to persuade him. In the end, he asked his assistant to bring him a black one to deal with my persistence, while the blue toothbrush was left unused in the mirror cabinet.