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On the tenth year of my marriage to Ethan, I stumbled upon an unboxing video of his new, just–turned–18 girlfriend showing off a Kawasaki motorcycle.
In the video, Ethan was smiling indulgently, proudly flaunting a bill for thousands.
Just yesterday, I was fretting about my son, Nathan’s tutoring fees. I nervously asked Ethan for help, but he impatiently claimed we had no money, only to turn around and spend lavishly on that girl.
In his room, Nathan was diligently doing his homework, obedient and well–behaved.
Standing in the kitchen, looking at the ash scattered on the floor and the pile of dirty dishes, I put down the cloth in my hand and swiftly decided to separate.
However, Ethan blocked the door, slapped himself madly over a dozen times, and
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begged me not to divor
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When Ethan got home, I had already finished cooking and set the food on the table.
“It’s so hot, why won’t you even turn on the air conditioning?” he complained, turning it on as he grumbled that I hadn’t served him dinner yet.
I grabbed a fork and pushed his bowl aside, trying to hold back my anger.
“When are you planning to pay Nathan’s tutoring fees?”
Ethan’s movements paused. His expression suddenly turned cold, and his tone became unusually sharp.
“How many times do I have to say it? There’s no money! Why does he need
tutoring anyway? You’re always lounging at home. Why don’t you mention that?”
“Lounging?”
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I scoffed. I woke up at 6 a.m. to make breakfast, cleaned the house, brought him lunch, took care of his two elderly parents, helped Nathan with homework, and only went to bed late at night. And in his eyes, that’s lounging.
I suppressed my anger and covered the dish, but Ethan slammed the bowl down with a loud smash. His face turned red with fury.
“Chloe, what’s your deal? You’re either paranoid or passive–aggressive! When did you become like this?”
He stormed out. I stood there staring at the broken pieces on the floor, a coldness spreading through me.
Ethan still wanted me to be the submissive, obedient girl I once was. I was thirty now. I was no longer that naive young woman blindly chasing after him.
I no longer had the strength to convince. myself that he had good reasons, that he
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was simply helpless.
As I thought about the video I had seen. today, a flood of sorrow overwhelmed me.
For almost a year now, Ethan had become irritable and angry. I thought it was due to life’s pressures. I walked on eggshells around him, swallowing my frustrations and keeping quiet.
Every time I thought of that video, my whole body burned with anger. I opened it
again from my saved collection.
“The first Kawasaki for a girl born in 2004, bought by her boyfriend.”
The comments below were filled with congratulatory and envious messages.
My hands trembled, and my heart bled.
In the video, Ethan was in rare good spirits, showing off the bill with a broad smile, looking indulgently at the girl beside him.
He had never looked at me like that.
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I stared blankly at the numbers again, the intense humiliation washing over me. My chest burned with bitterness. Nathan was an excellent student, only needing a little help in English, so I wanted to enroll him in a class. But Ethan had dodged that cost for weeks, yet had no problem spending lavishly on his mistress.
Nathan timidly came over and grabbed my hand, his eyes sparkling. “Will Dad come for Children’s Day this year?”
My nose stung, and my eyes ached.
I lowered my head, patted his little head, and gently told him to go back to his room.
He won’t come.
Ethan always claimed he was busy, but it wasn’t with us.
He had long stopped caring for us the way
he used to.
