The next day, for the very first time, Ellen came back early.

I was finishing up breakfast at the table when I heard the door, but I didn't bother to lift my head.

She stood in front of me like she was expecting something. No breakfast set out for her like I used to do every damn morning. Her face yelled she was pissed as hell, and then she slammed her phone down on the table.

"Go ahead, start your crap. Wanna fight again?"

She was bringing up that first time she ditched me to run to Gareth, all mad.

Back then, I was just as pissed. Didn't call her, didn't text her—all night.

The next morning, I rolled up to her mom's place with divorce papers in hand.

Ellen came rushing back, looking white as a sheet, and dropped to her knees in front of me, bawling her eyes out.

Said every time I didn't agree with her, it made her feel like I hated her, I didn't love her anymore, or I'd dump her.

So, she'd go mad and call Gareth right in front of me just to get under my skin.

Told me she regretted it the second she walked out the house, that she just went drinking with her friends instead of seeing that bastard.

Her mom was crying too, pleading with me to understand. Said any woman would be insecure in Ellen's shoes, that I needed to be the bigger person as the husband.

She kept saying Ellen only did it out of love, Ellen was just scared I'd fall out of love with her.

At first, I didn't buy a word of it. But then three of her closest friends swore she was telling the truth, even showing me bar receipts from that night to back up her story. Yeah, like a dumbass I believed them.

Later, I talked to a buddy of mine who knew a thing or two about psychology. He said what my wife did was "normal." I just needed to keep her reassured.

So, I started holding back my temper. Every time she flipped out, I'd hold my tongue, apologize, and try to smooth things over.

When I couldn't appease her, she'd storm out, and I'd be on the phone like a damn idiot, texting and calling nonstop.

More times than I can count, she got sick of me and blocked me, and I'd have to go through her friends just to reach her.

But last night, just like that first time, I ignored her all night long.

And now, here she was, but I didn't spare her a single glance.

"Nope," I replied.

I set down my plate and fork, wiped my mouth with a napkin, took the dishes, and went to the kitchen.

Right then, the sliding door behind me slammed so loud.

I glanced back and saw the glass crack from the impact. "Insecurity's turned into rage now, huh?"

Ellen froze for a moment until her face blazed red.

"Wesley! Don't think you can just scare me! You haven't done a damn thing a husband's supposed to do, and now you're treating me like trash? Go ahead, keep playing tough—let's see who will stand by you this time!"

I calmly put the dishes and tableware away, then turned to find her blocking the kitchen doorway.

I just pushed right past her and headed back to the bedroom. Just then, my brother texted, asking for a photo of me. 'Said Mom and Dad missed me.

And I thought about how I've spent all these years giving my mother-in-law everything while my own parents got nothing. That guilt hit me like a brick. I immediately transferred over 2,800 bucks to my brother and told him to give it to our parents.

Ellen stormed back in with her arms crossed. Suddenly, she ripped the phone out of my hand and shrieked when she saw the transfer.

"What the hell, Wesley?! Are you crazy? Giving that much to your brother when Mom's still waiting for your paycheck so she can buy that damn bracelet she's been talking about?!"

I looked at her nonchalantly.

"Didn't you say I'm a worthless piece of crap? What's a worthless man supposed to give?"

God knows I loved my wife. I felt for her 'cause she couldn't have kids. I did everything for her, even going against my parents to marry her.

I scrimped, saved, and worked my ass just so every damn cent I made goes to her and her mom.

Never thought I'd be called worthless in return, not by the woman whom I'd given everything, and certainly not by her other man.

Sure, I was blinded by love. But heck, I know better now!

"Call your brother. Get that money back. Now."

Ellen shoved the phone right in my face, her hand almost knocking my damn eye out.

I frowned and didn't even move to grab it, but then the phone rang all of a sudden.

We both flinched, eyes locking onto the screen.

It was my mom calling.

Before I could reach it, Ellen snatched it up and hit the speaker button.

I clenched my fists when opened her mouth. I knew—she'd demand my own mother send back the money.

But then Mom's excited voice burst out before Ellen could say a damn word.

"Oh, my son! Happy birthday, baby! I meant to call you yesterday, but we were out in the fields all day. You ain't mad, right? Tell me, how did you and Ellen celebrate?"

Ellen froze, guilt flashing across her face as she looked at me.

Yeah, my wife forgot my birthday, but she sure as hell remembered to go make out with her other man right in front of me.

I snatched the phone back and pressed it to my ear, plastering on this big, fake grin.

"Nah, how could I be mad, Mom? You and Dad, you're the only ones who ever cared about me. If anyone's sorry here, it's me—not being the son you deserve all these years."

Hearing that, Mom quickly changed the subject, clearly worried I'd get upset.

We kept talking—thirty minutes, maybe. Not once did we bring up my wife's name.

By the time I hung up, Ellen's face was all twisted up like she couldn't figure out what to do.

"Fine, fine. It's your birthday, so I'll let that money slide for now. But it's a loan, 'you hear me? You're damn lucky to have a generous wife like me, you know that?"

"And about yesterday? Well, you know that was your fault. If you'd just talked to me nicely, I wouldn't have left."

I ignored her. Just went back to my phone and started chatting with some old buddies.

She lingered there like a ghost until she muttered, "Fine, I'll go buy a cake. Make something nice for dinner, alright? I'll make it up for you tonight."

I watched until the door clicked shut behind her, and then I opened my chatbox with my supervisor.

[Hey, Wesley, are you really planning on transferring to the branch? It's your hometown, sure, but what about living apart from your wife?]

I shot back quickly: [Won't be a problem. She's about to be my ex-wife soon enough.]

The chatbox showed she was typing, untyping, and typing again.

Although it took her forever, she still sent a short reply.

[Alright… With you on the team, I'm sure the branch will make it.]

I checked the time, set my phone to silent, and crawled back under the covers.

I was dead asleep, right? Then I heard this goddamn noise from the living room.

My eyes barely even opened and my mind barely awake when I felt these hands, yanking me out of bed. It's Ellen.

"Get your ass up! I invited my friends over for your birthday, and you're here sleeping? Get in the damn kitchen!"

I dragged myself out to the living room. There were folks jammed in every corner, trashing the place with empty soda cups and pizza boxes. I swear, I had never felt so enraged like this before.

I clenched my fists but eventually kept my cool. I decided to save some face for my wife who invited them all.

"Oh, wow! Didn't expect all of you to show up. Alright then, how about I book us a table at a restaurant, yeah?"

"What? Nah, bro. Eating out's damn expensive! Besides, Ellen's always bragging about your cooking. We want a taste of that!"

Gareth sprang up. That stupid grin plastered on his face like he knew something I didn't.

And there's Ellen, frowning and pulling at my arm. "You just sent 2,800 bucks to your brother, and now you wanna blow more cash eating out? What, you think we're born rich?"

"Come on, you can cook just fine! I even got all you need. Just make something quick."

Ellen. Buying groceries.

That was enough to make my stomach turn, so I bolted to the kitchen and threw the door open.

Eels, lobsters, frogs—Jesus Christ! I don't even know how the hell a couple of them got behind the damn stove!

I took a deep breath and quickly shut the door.

I knew it'd be like this!

She can't even mop the floor right ever since we got married, and she thinks she can damn buy groceries?!

And then there was Gareth, standing right behind me. In a voice that only the two of us could hear, he arrogantly said, "Poor thing. Cooking for all these folks on your day? Damn. Did you know? For my birthday, Ellen actually rented out a suite at the Kingsbay for three good days."

"Guess you're not the favorite, huh, Wesley?"

Before I could lift my fist, Ellen stepped up right behind him.

"What are you two gossiping about?"

"Hey, babe, why aren't you cooking yet? My friends are starving!"

I wanted to tell her to shove her friends right out the damn door, but then I thought of that bastard's arrogant face last week.

"We're missing some spices. I'll run out and grab them real quick."

"What? I'll go then. It's getting late. You still got two sets of meals to cook, you know."

She really thought I'd cook a feast for her dumbass friends, and then whip up dinner for us too?

I ground my teeth together, and then I just shot back, "What the hell do you even know about kitchen stuff? I'll be back in a flash."

Finally, that shut her up.

"I'll go with you, bro."

Gareth really meant to tag along.

I didn't say no, of course, but I made sure my fingers secretly pressed that recorder in my coat pocket.

Ellen trailed us to the door, throwing these worried glances at me, then at Gareth. Her lips moved slightly.

Gareth chuckled and gave her a little shove back. "Chill, Ellen, who's being all clingy now?"

Who was he even calling clingy?

Gareth then closed the door.

As we hit the stairs, the bastard suddenly stuck out his arm right in my face, showing off this flashy-ass watch with a band of diamonds.

"Hey, bro, look! Ellen got this for me as a birthday gift. She said she had it customized for over 100,000 bucks."

"What'd she get you? Can't be worse than what her childhood friend got, right?"

His eyes dropped to my wrist, where my old, worn watch sat, and then he burst into a 'pfft' laugh.

Six years with Ellen, and she never gave me a damn thing worth mentioning.

This old watch? My dad's.

He said it was antique and the most valuable thing we had—my safety net if I ever hit rock bottom.

I bawled my eyes out when he passed it on, and back then, Ellen held me to comfort me.

She swore that one day, she'd buy me and my old man the best watches money could get.

Well, she did buy a damn fancy one. But she gave it to this piece of trash instead.

I turned my wrist w around and scoffed.

"Sure, she buys you a better watch. But at the end of the day, you're still just the childhood friend."

"To be frank, all you're getting from her is some cash, dude. Nothing else."

I spat it out like I was tough, but deep down, I was barely keeping it together.

A custom watch worth over 100,000?

If Gareth wasn't just bragging, then my wife didn't just cheat on me—she's been hiding assets too from me.

That liar always told me she only made over 1,000 bucks a month, so I would hand her 4,200 every month.

Even if she saved every single penny for six years and never bought groceries—she'd only save around 70,000.

And it's not like they were living on a tight budget. Ellen and her mom? They were all about luxury, and all they cared about was that they had overpriced food, branded clothes, fancy housing, and upgraded cars.

I'd make 8,400 a month. 4,200 went to her and 2,800 to her mom.

The little over 1,000 left, after paying the mortgage and car loan, was spent on daily expenses.

So, how the hell did she get 100,000 bucks to buy her other man a custom watch?

Just that morning, I said I wouldn't be a fool, and then came night, I found out the biggest fool was actually me.

"'The hell you're proud of, bro?!"

Gareth got enraged and suddenly shouted, slamming his knee hard against the wall.

As he lay on the ground clutching his knee and howling, the door upstairs opened.

Ellen poked her head out and, seeing Gareth pale with pain, jumped down the stairs in a panic.

Gareth was in my wife's arms, grabbing her arm, and gasping out, "It has nothing to do with him, Ellen. I... I accidentally bumped into it."

Ellen gently rolled up Gareth's pant leg and saw that his knee was red and swollen with a large patch of skin scraped off.

Not a word passed her lips before she stood up and slapped me.

"Why are you so damn cruel? Gareth was just being nice to keep you company, and you took the chance to beat him up when no one was looking?!"

My cheek burned, my temper finally snapping. I slapped her right back.

Smack!

The sharp strike echoed through the hallway, and all of her nosy friends who'd been hovering at the top of the stairs like vultures, came rushing down, shoving themselves between me and Ellen.

"Hey! How can you hit Ellen? She's your wife!"

Wife?

I laughed sarcastically.

Ellen looked shocked, tears filling her eyes.

"You—you actually hit me? Fine! When I come back, I'm divorcing you!"

As she spoke, she helped Gareth up and walked downstairs.

I pressed my tongue against my sore cheek and called out to her back, "Cool! Divorce sounds perfect to me!"

Ellen tripped, pulling Gareth down with her.

Everyone freaked out, calling their names, and rushed towards them.

Only this one little girl looked at me with sorry eyes, saying, "Wesley, let's get them to the hospital first."

I didn't bother. The second the whole damn crowd was gone, I headed to the garage.

Ellen fell too, and they'd all piled into a friend's car to get to the hospital.

I had long meant to check the dashcam but he didn't get the chance 'cause Ellen was always using the damn car.

Ellen probably thought I had no chance to get to the car. She must've felt so confident I'd never see what God knows she and Gareth did in there.

With all the evidence in hand, I didn't even bother getting back inside the house. I drove straight to a law firm.

With the video and the audio recordings, the lawyer started drafting up a divorce agreement—60% of the assets to me and a lawsuit to get those she should've shared with me as her husband.

By the time Ellen made it home, limping, there wasn't even a shred of sympathy on my face.

Instead, I pushed the divorce papers in front of her.

"Just sign the damn thing, and we're over."