Chapter 1
Audra's POV:
Since I gave birth, my husband and I had been having s*x far less often.
I kept trying to initiate it, but he always found an excuse.
He'd say, "I'm too tired today. Tomorrow, okay?" Sometimes he'd tell me, "Our daughter just fell asleep. We'll wake her up." Or he'd say, "I just remembered some paperwork I haven't submitted. I need to get up and finish it." Then there was, "Keep a tally. I'll make it all up to you next time."
I was disappointed, but I also felt for him. He worked so hard to support our family.
Then I came across a post.
Is anyone else worn out every day because their boyfriend wants s*x all the time?
The comments immediately blew up.
A: [Some of us are dying of thirst while others are drowning!]
B: [You're getting laid and you're still complaining? Regular s*x is the best proof of loyalty.]
C: [I'm waiting for a boyfriend reveal. What does a guy with that kind of stamina look like?]
The poster immediately uploaded a photo of herself with her boyfriend, both their faces out of frame.
D: [He's got broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and an eight-pack.]
E: [I just sent this to my boyfriend. Apparently, working out keeps a man's engine running.]
I scoffed.
My husband had worked out for years, but he still couldn't perform in bed.
Then I noticed the diamond ring on the man's left hand. It was identical to my husband's.
It was custom-made. There couldn't possibly be another one anywhere in the world.
Suddenly, I understood.
My husband had no trouble in bed. He just didn't want to sleep with me.
For a long time, I was too stunned to react.
It felt as if someone were squeezing my heart. It hurt so much I could barely breathe.
When I finally came to my senses, my fingers trembled as I saved screenshots of the comments and the poster's username.
Then I let out a long breath and went into my daughter's room.
She was sleeping soundly, her face peaceful.
'Sweetheart, I want to keep our family together for you. I just don't want to keep lying to myself.'
Desmond Denham came home at 1 a.m.
He was visibly drunk, but he still tried to move quietly so he wouldn't wake me or our baby.
Perhaps he did love us. But beneath the smell of alcohol, I could smell perfume too.
"Sleep in the other room. I have something to tell you tomorrow."
He stopped, surprised. "You're still awake? The clients could really drink tonight. I couldn't get away until now."
In the dim light, he pulled off his tie, exhaustion written across his face.
I rolled over without answering.
He climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder.
"Honey, I'm exhausted. I'll shower tomorrow. Don't think I'm gross, okay?"
Whenever he'd come home drunk before, I'd hold him and soothe him to sleep, my heart aching at how worn out he was.
He'd nestle in my arms like a child, drunkenly mumbling that he loved me.
Tonight, I stayed rigid in his arms and asked coldly, "Desmond, do you still love me?"
He paused, seeming a little more sober.
"Huh? Why are you asking that in the middle of the night?"
He stroked my hair with his usual tenderness.
I leaned closer to look into his eyes. They had once held a whole world of promise. Now he was only going through the motions.
"We haven't had s*x in a long time," I said bluntly.
He avoided my eyes and sighed. "Work's been hectic. We're up against tight project deadlines, and I'm under a lot of pressure. You know men start slowing down after 25. Try to understand. I'm not in my early 20s anymore."
I'd heard countless variations of that same excuse.
I scoffed inwardly, then suddenly kissed him.
He seemed startled at first, but he tried to kiss me back.
I reached over to unbutton his shirt.
But the moment my hand touched his belt, he grabbed my hand.
"Audra, it's late. I... I'm not up to it tonight."
I watched him silently, searching his face for the truth.
Just then, the phone on his bedside table buzzed.
Knowing I never checked his phone, he opened w******p without trying to hide it.
The screen lit up with a message from a woman listed as Celeste Ralston in his contacts.
Celeste: Desmond, are you home? Tonight was terrifying. Thank goodness you were there.
Desmond instinctively glanced at me, then shifted a little farther away.
His fingers flew across the keyboard as though he were playing the piano.
Suddenly, I felt like a fool for spending every day waiting for him to reply to my messages.
After a long while, he put his phone away and turned back to me with an offhand explanation.
"We have a new intern. A client was giving her a hard time over drinks tonight, so I stepped in. She's only just started working. I wouldn't have felt right leaving her to deal with it."
I nodded calmly, but my instincts told me this intern was the woman who'd written that post.
He relaxed and moved in to hold me again.
I rolled away. "You're a lot more sober now. Go take a shower first."
He hesitated, then obediently went into the bathroom.
The instant I heard the water running, I dialed a number.
"Attorney Sutton, I'd like to ask how infidelity affects the division of property in a divorce."
