When my husband came back from his business trip, he wanted to be intimate with me, but I refused. While he was away, I had a miscarriage. The doctor said I shouldn’t be having sex anytime soon. But Raymond didn’t notice the paleness in my face or the boxes of medication crowding the nightstand.
Annoyed, he muttered something about me being a killjoy, then grabbed his phone and dialed his childhood sweetheart.
“Where are you? I’m in a bad mood. Need distraction.”
From the other side of the line, I could hear her playful voice:
“You just got home and now you’re calling me, asking if we can meet again?”
Raymond shot me a look as he walked out the door.
“I just can’t sleep at home. This place puts me in a bad mood.”
I let out a cold laugh and immediately called my lawyer.
“Start the divorce proceedings.”
——
Raymond and I had been together for ten years—four years of dating and six years of marriage. Everyone who knew us could tell how deeply I loved him. Even when I found out he had fertility issues, I stuck by him without a second thought. But over the years, his attitude toward me shifted. The man who once cared for me with tenderness became paranoid and possessive. If I did anything to upset him, he’d call up Lidia, right in front of me.
I confronted him and he would get on his knees, apologizing profusely, swearing that nothing had happened between them. He’d claim that he was just trying to make me jealous.
My mother-in-law backed him up, of course, telling me that his condition made him insecure and I needed to be more understanding. Even his friends swore to me that nothing was going on between him and Lidia, so I forgave him. Every single time.
A week ago, I started feeling nauseous. A visit to the hospital confirmed I was pregnant. The joy I felt was indescribable. I thought this baby will bring Raymond back to me. Maybe having a child would heal the rift between us.
On my way back from the hospital, I stopped at the supermarket to pick up groceries. As I walked out, it was starting to get dark and that’s when I saw it—Raymond’s car across the street. I crossed the road and under the glaring streetlights, I saw him in the driver’s seat, locked in a passionate kiss with a woman in the passenger seat. Squinting my eyes to get a better look, it was Lidia Cruz; Raymond’s childhood sweetheart.
My heart shattered to pieces. Tears blurred my vision as the bags of groceries fell from my hands, spilling across the sidewalk. Just then, the light turned green and the car behind them honked. They reluctantly pulled apart. Lidia rolled down her window and cursed at the driver. Raymond just smiled and ruffled her hair gently, as if I wasn’t even there. Then he drove off, speeding past me without a glance.
It felt like an invisible hand pushed me and I collapsed onto the pavement. Pain shot through my stomach. My face went white as the world blurred. A stranger rushed over to help me up, noticing the blood seeping through my skirt. They quickly called for an ambulance. That fall, combined with the emotional shock, cost me my pregnancy. That tiny, fragile life slipped away quietly, just as it had come.
After the surgery, a bone-deep chill settled into me, making me shiver uncontrollably. Raymond returned home later, tossing his suitcase onto the floor. He didn’t even glance at me as he climbed into bed, still reeking of cheap women’s perfume.
He didn’t notice my pale face or the medication piled up on the nightstand. He just leaned in, ready to kiss me. I turned my head away, speaking flatly, “I’m not feeling well.”
Annoyed, he pulled away and got off the bed, looking down at me with a scowl.
“Oh, I get it. You’re just sick of me, aren’t you?” He chuckled dryly
“You know what? I don’t need you to meet my needs, Ariana.”
With that, he picked up his phone and dialed Lidia.
“Where are you? I need a distraction.”
Lidia’s voice came through the phone, teasing, “You just got home and you’re already calling me? Aren’t you worried your wife will get mad?”
Raymond smirked, clearly pleased with himself and glanced at me as if to provoke me.
“Yeah, well, she’s kind of old and worn out. Not sure what right she has to be picky.”
His words were said quietly, clearly meant for me. Lidia, not catching it, asked, “What was that?”
“Nothing. This place ruined my joy. Be there in a minute”
He hung up with a chuckle, picked up his suitcase and walked out the door.
In the past, I would have chased after him, apologized and begged him to stay. I would’ve listened to him tear me down and insult me while I desperately tried to please him. But this time, even as the front door slammed shut in anger, I didn’t move an inch. I stayed in bed, unmoving.
Raymond Matthews, you won’t get away with this.
The next day, Raymond came home early, which was unusual. I sat at the dining table, eating my breakfast without bothering to look up when I heard him walk in. He stopped in front of me, his face darkening when he realized I hadn’t prepared his usual breakfast. With an irritated grunt, he threw his phone onto the table.
“Are we really doing this again? You want this to turn into another fight, like last time?”
His words took me right back to our first major fight. That day, just like last night, I had refused to make love with him. Furious, he threatened to go see Lidia. I hadn’t stopped him. I didn’t call, didn’t text and didn’t chase after him. The next morning, I took the divorce papers straight to his mother’s house. He showed up minutes later, pale as a ghost, dropping to his knees with tears streaming down his face.
He had told me then that every time I rejected him, he felt abandoned—like I didn’t love him anymore, like I was planning to leave him. He admitted that in his anger, he’d called Lidia right in front of me just to provoke me. But he swore he regretted it the moment he stepped out the door and instead of going to see her, he’d met up with his friends to drink away his frustration.
My mother-in-law had been in tears, too. She’d tried to console me, saying men have fragile egos and that when they feel rejected, they act out. “He loves you too much,” she’d insisted. “That’s why he lashes out. Don’t you see? He’s scared of losing you.”
I didn’t believe him at first, but when his friends confirmed his story and even showed me the bar receipt from that night, I began to waver. Eventually, I gave in and started to trust him again.
Later, I spoke with a friend who studied psychology. She told me that men like Raymond often need extra reassurance in such situations. So, I tried my best. I began walking on eggshells around him, constantly trying to calm him down. When he stormed out, I’d flood his phone with calls and texts, apologizing until he came back. He would block me and I’d have to reach out to his friends just to get a response.
But last night, I slipped back into my old habits. I ignored him completely. And now, as he stood in front of me, demanding attention, I didn’t even bother to look his way.
“No,” I said simply, putting down my spoon. I wiped my mouth with a napkin, stood and gathered my dishes to take them to the kitchen.
Behind me, the sliding door slammed as Raymond barged in, the loud crack echoing through the house. I looked back to see the glass door had actually cracked. I raised an eyebrow. “What’s this? Has your inferiority complex turned into full-blown rage now?
Raymond froze for a moment, his face flushing with anger. “You think that’s funny? Let me tell you something, Ari—your little stunts don’t work anymore. You refuse to do your duty as a wife and you still think you have right throwing a fit? Go ahead, pull your drama. Let’s see who sides with you this time.”
I placed the dishes in the sink, my movements calm and deliberate. When I turned around, Raymond was standing in the doorway, blocking my exit. Without hesitation, I pushed past him and went straight to the bedroom. Lighting some incense, I lay down on the bed and started massaging my feet while texting an errand boy to pick up supplements for me.
After that, I decided to treat myself. I splurged on high-end skincare products shopping spree. Raymond followed me around the house like a lost puppy, wrinkling his nose at the scent of the incense that lingered in the air.
“What is that smell?” he complained, waving a hand in front of his face as if he could fan it away. “It’s awful! Do you even realize it’ll stink up the place for days? Can’t you air it out or—”
Before he could finish, his phone started buzzing non-stop. He picked it up, looked at the screen and his face went pale. “Ariana, are you out of your mind? You just blew three months’ worth of my salary!”
I glanced at him, unbothered. “Didn’t you say I was starting to look worn-out? Well, fixing that takes money, Honey.”
In the past, I’d been frugal for his sake. He only earned four grand a month and I worked hard to stretch every dollar, scrimping and saving out of love for him. I thought I was building a future for the two of us. But here I was, pouring everything into our home while he and his little mistress laughed behind my back, mocking me for looking worn-out. Sure, I had been head-over-heels for him, but I wasn’t a fool.
“Cancel it. Return everything now!” Raymond stormed over, trying to snatch my phone from my hand. Once, he could unlock it with just a fingerprint, but now he was trying everything and failing miserably. “Did you change the password and switch to the fingerprint unlock? What is this, Ari?”
As I was thinking of one good excuse to get away, my phone buzzed. It was my mom calling. I frowned and reached for the phone, but he beat me to it, answering the call and putting it on speaker. Just as he was about to complain, my mom’s excited voice burst through the speaker.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart! I know I was supposed to call yesterday, but I got so busy. I’m so sorry. You’re not angry with me, are you? I promise I’ll make it up to you. Now tell me, what did Raymond give you? Is he taking you out? Romantic dinner?”
Raymond froze, guilt washing over him. He hadn’t even remembered my birthday yesterday, not when he had gone to see his little lover right in front of me. I snatched the phone back and held it to my ear, my smile returning. “Of course I’m not mad, Mom! How could I? I know you and Dad love me the most in this world!”
We chatted for half an hour without mentioning Raymond even once. When I hung up, Raymond was frowning, clearly conflicted.
He cleared his throat, “Well, I guess you can keep them, since yesterday was your birthday. Consider them your birthday gifts.” He defended himself, “Don’t blame me. I left because I’m hurt and I don’t want to hurt you. And you could’ve said it nicely if you weren’t in the mood.”
I didn’t respond, busy chatting away with old friends in a group chat.
Raymond stood there awkwardly for a moment, then said, “I’ll get you a cake. You should cook something nice for dinner tonight. We’ll celebrate it properly.”
As I watched him leave, I exited the group chat and opened a message from my manager.
“Have you talked about it with your husband, Mrs. Matthews? Although the branch office is in your hometown, are you sure you can live across the state far away from him? Have you earned his permission?”
I typed my reply quickly, “I’ve made up my mind. And it’s Kelleher, because he’ll soon be my ex-husband.”
The chat window flickered as my manager hesitated to reply, but eventually, she sent, “Okay, I look forward to working with you, Miss Kelleher.”
After that, I checked the time and put my phone on silent to sleep. I was drifting off when the noise from the living room jolted me awake. As I opened my eyes, still groggy, Raymond yanked me out of bed.
“Why are you sleeping? I invited my friends over to celebrate your birthday! You need to get up and cook.”
I stumbled into the living room to find it packed with people, a sea of laughter and empty snack shells strewn everywhere. I felt a surge of annoyance rise within me. I clenched my fists, then released them, deciding to give Raymond some face.
“Wow, I didn’t expect everyone to show up for the party. Well, since you’re all here, we could order takeout or eat out.” I flashed my friendliest smile.
“Are you sure you want to take all of us out to eat? I mean, I’m sure it’ll cost a lot and we really don’t want you to spend so much. Besides, Raymond’s been bragging about your cooking all the time. We couldn’t wait to try it!” Lidia stood up as soon as I finished speaking, a smug grin on her face.
Raymond approached with a frown, pulling me aside and whispered. “You spent so much on groceries last week and my money is running thin. We can’t afford to take them out. Come on, you’re good at cooking. You can even turn a napkin into a gourmet meal. I bought some seafood and greens on the way. They’re in the kitchen. Just make the first thing that comes to your mind. Won’t be that hard.”
Raymond bought groceries? I could sense something awful was coming. I ran to the kitchen quickly, flung open the kitchen door and was shocked by the sight. Eels, shrimp and catfish were jumping all over, some even hiding beneath the stove. He bought them alive. I took a deep breath to calm down and slammed the kitchen door behind me shut.
Lidia stood behind me and whispered, “Raymond’s not really broke. Just a couple of days ago, he booked The Golden Truffle for me three days in a row to celebrate my birthday. Looks like you’re not the favorite here, Ariana.” The Golden Truffle was a high-end restaurant often frequented by the town's old-money elite, with dishes starting at no less than one hundred fifty dollars. Booking the venue for an event would set you back at least ten thousand dollars. Before I could reply, Raymond was showing up right behind Lidia.
“What are you two chatting about?” he asked, his tone light and carefree.
“Honey, why aren’t you cooking? The guys are starving. We wouldn’t want them to chew on the sofa, would we? ” His face was smiling, but his tone was thick with irritation.
I was about to refuse when I caught Lidia’s smug face and an idea came to my mind. “We’re missing a couple of spices. I’ll go grab them. It’ll be quick.”
“Name them and I’ll go get them,” Raymond said, holding my arm. “I run faster than you.”
He tried to make me stay and cook for them. I suppressed my anger and replied calmly, “You’ve never set foot in the kitchen, Honey. Even if I told you, I doubt you’d get the right ones. I’ll go get them myself. It’ll be quick. I promise.” With that, I walked past him and Raymond was speechless.
