I Left, and Now He Can’t Live Without Me

After finally marrying him, Ethan Stewart, who had once showered me with endless affection, suddenly grew cold. He began staying out all night and arguing with me over the smallest of things. It wasn't until one day, while I was looking for him, that I overheard a conversation between him and his friends. "If it weren't for her family's wealth, I never would've married her. I only married her because I had no choice." Later, I left the divorce papers behind and disappeared from his life, but he went mad. ***** The words from the room cut through the air and pierced my ears. My smile froze completely, and the words that had been on the tip of my tongue were swallowed without a sound. Half a year after our marriage, Ethan, who had always been attentive and doting on me, suddenly seemed like a completely different person. He became less responsive to my messages and often stayed out all night, leaving me alone in the house to wait for him, night after night. Tonight, once again, he didn't come home. But he had forgotten that today was our anniversary—the day we started dating. As I stood in front of a bar, all I could hear were his accusations toward me. I tried to comfort myself, telling myself he must have drunk too much. Everyone has moments of dissatisfaction in their relationships. It was fine. But he didn't seem drunk at all. He was as alert as ever, and every word he said was full of sincerity. One of his friends sarcastically chimed in, "Ethan, you can't say that! Look at Kayla's body and looks. Who wouldn't say she's amazing? We're all jealous of your luck here!" The people around us exchanged glances and sneered at me, showing no respect at all. But Ethan didn't seem to care about the insults, even encouraging them with a casual reply. "Her? She's got a pretty face, but there's nothing interesting about her. She's like a wooden doll in every way. I don't even want to touch her!" He sighed, clearly a little disheartened. "If it weren't for my family's bankruptcy, I would've married Lila by now. Talking sweet to a woman I'm not even interested in—it's disgusting!" Hearing Lila's name, I staggered back, a bitter smile spreading across my face. Lila Casey was his high school deskmate and the girl who had captured his heart long ago. I had thought he had long forgotten about her. After all, his feelings for me were so obvious to everyone. But it turned out, I had been deluding myself. Our marriage and love had all been a farce, a ridiculous mission. He had never truly loved me, not even for a second. For a moment, I didn't know whether to feel sorry for myself or pity him—having to pretend to love someone he had no feelings for at all. One of his friends continued, loudly, "Now that her money is your shared marital property, you don't need to put up with it anymore. What are you going to do? You two are married, after all!" When he heard the word "married," he scowled with distaste, then waved it off carelessly. "I'll find something she does wrong and start a big fight. Divorce her, no problem. Who cares about her feelings? She's just a source of money." He looked smug, as though he had been waiting for this day for a long time. My heart ached so badly I could barely breathe, feeling as though a thousand knives had stabbed into me. Underneath the calm surface, I was biting my lip so hard it started to bleed, trying to maintain my composure. I had always believed Ethan truly cared about me. I remembered how he had driven over a hundred kilometers to take care of me when I had a fever. How, when I drank too much and threw up everywhere, he had cleaned up after me without a second thought. I had seen all the good he had done for me. It was that kindness that had convinced me, a person who had long given up on the idea of marriage, to walk into this trap willingly. But it had all been a lie. At this point, there was no need for him to abandon me. I would leave on my own. I would never again show up and trouble him. Even when I got home, I still couldn't shake off what had just happened. Looking at the room we had decorated together, my heart ached with a suffocating pain. How I wished none of this were real. I thought to myself, 'Why is he doing this to me?' I reached for the nearby vase and lifted it high, but couldn't bring myself to shatter it. It was the same one we had decorated together on our first date, hand-painted with designs that held all my hopes for love and memories of our beautiful moments. Without warning, my phone vibrated. The name "Darling" flashed on the screen, an unbearable sight. I wanted to scream into the phone and say everything I had been holding back today, to ask him why he was doing this to me. But I didn't. On the other end of the line, his drunk voice came through. "Darling, why haven't you called me? Do you not want me anymore? Are you mad at me? Please don't be angry. I've been so busy tonight! But once I get through this, I'll make it up to you." I didn't say a word. I just watched his car's location move across the screen, heading further away from our house. In my heart, I silently prayed, 'Please, don't.' But the car still stopped in front of Lila's house. In the early hours, a man and woman alone together—anyone could guess what would happen. I sighed softly. "It's nothing. I'm just tired. You should head home early." He must have already seen Lila. His tone was much lighter now, and he lazily responded, "Don't worry, darling, I've been thinking about you all night! I'll bring you your favorite mousse cake when I get home!" Before I could respond, he ended the call, clearly not wanting to deal with me anymore. I sat in the cold room, holding the phone, frozen in place. When he used to make up excuses to sleep at other women's houses, I would lie awake at home, worried sick, terrified that something might happen to him. I would toss and turn all night, hugging the cold sheets, crying silently to myself. Back then, he would always bring me breakfast when he came home in the morning, and I would let it slide, convincing myself that he still cared about me. Turns out, it was just compensation after sneaking around. Then, I saw an i********: post from Lila. The picture showed a man wearing an apron, busy in the kitchen, bathed in soft light, while a woman's face appeared in the frame, her lips curled into a satisfied smile. The caption read: He promised he'd never leave me. Should I believe this big liar? I recognized the ring on his hand and the familiar profile. The man in her kitchen, working, was my husband, who was supposed to be out of town for business. I should've been angry, but instead, I found myself smiling, something I rarely did. My proud marriage had always been a farce, with everyone treating me like a fool. In this game, all I had was a sincere heart—a thing he never needed. I knew Lila posted that to provoke me, but I didn't care anymore. If I couldn't keep him, forcing him to stay was pointless. I liked the post, and then dialed my lawyer's number. 'Ethan, since you love her so much, I'll help you give her a proper title,' I thought.