WIFE WHO CHEATED ON ME

CHAPTER 2 The fact

She stops pacing and turns to face me, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He makes me feel alive. You just make me feel... nothing." She picks up her can again, taking another long drink to hide any further expression. "So yeah, I'm cheating." She says coldly.

"Just like that?... and you threw away everything we've been through...our love...our marriage..." I said look at her with tears.

Something in her eyes wavers. Just for a second. Then her walls go right back up.

"Our love?" She scoffs, but it sounds hollow. "What love? The love from three years ago when we first got married? That's not *our* love anymore. That's just... history."

She sets the can down and leans against the counter, arms crossed.

I look at her with tears, hearing her say hurtful words. like our three-year marriage just went up in smoke, including our love.

She watches the tears roll down my face. For a moment, her breathing quickens. Her fingers twitch against her arms.

Then she looks away.

"Don't do that." Her voice wavers slightly. "Don't cry and expect me to stop. That's not how this works."

She takes another drink, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Are you going to leave me or not?"

"Leave? You want me to leave?" Whsiper when I asked

She shrugs, a gesture so casual it feels like a knife twisting in my gut. "Well, what did you expect?" She gestures vaguely between the two of us. "You found out I'm cheating. You know I'm sleeping with him. The marriage is broken."

She finally looks at me again, eyes devoid of their usual warmth, replaced by cold pragmatism.

"Either we divorce," she says bluntly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "or you stay married to a wife who is actively cheating on you."

She taps her fingernails against the beer can. "Those are your only two options. Because I am not stopping seeing Daniel."

She lifts her eyebrows, waiting. "Pick one."

And then...

I close my eyes with tears.

"okay...w..we get divorce..."

She flinches at the whisper—just barely—but she covers it quickly. "Yeah." She takes another swig of beer, her throat bobbing as she swallows hard. "Good. I'll have my lawyer call you Monday."

Her voice is tight, but she refuses to meet my eyes. She stares intently at the countertop, fingers drumming against the can.

I wiped my tears "I'll packing my things..." and walk past her

She doesn't move from the counter. Doesn't even look up. Just stands there, frozen, listening to my footsteps fade down the hallway. Her grip on the beer can tightens until it crumples slightly under the pressure.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she finally closes her eyes and exhales shakily through her nose. One hand comes up to rub at her temple.

The silence is deafening.

She stays in the kitchen long after I've disappeared down the hall. The beer is warm now, forgotten. She stares at the spot where I stood—the way my face crumbled, the way I whispered "okay" like it was a death sentence.

Her hand moves to her neck, fingertips grazing the hickeys Daniel left. They feel different now.

From the bedroom I hear the closet door open. Drawers sliding. Clothes being folded roughly into a suitcase. Every sound feels like glass breaking.

After about twenty minutes I come back downstairs. Suitcase in hand. My eyes are red and puffy but my face is set.

Camilla is still leaning against the counter. She hasn't moved.

"You forgot something," she says quietly. Not looking at me.

" What is it..." I look at her

She finally looks up, her eyes glassing over for just a second before she blinks it away. Her voice is barely above a whisper.

"Your wedding ring."

She gestures vaguely toward the counter where it sits—the gold band I never take off. The one I've worn every day since the day we said "I do."

"Just... throw it away if you want..." I said flat

She stares at the ring on the counter for a long moment. Her jaw tightens.

"Yeah." Her voice cracks. "Maybe I will."

She picks it up, turning it over in her fingers. The light catches the inscription inside—the one we picked out together on our honeymoon.

*Forever.*

She clenches her fist around it.

I walk past her

The front door clicks shut.

Camilla stares at the closed door for a long time. Her hand slowly opens, the ring still pressed into her palm. The metal has left a mark—a circular indentation on her skin.

She walks to the window and watches my car pull out of the driveway. Headlights cutting through the dark. Tail lights fading. Gone.