My Wife Becomes Someone Else's s*x Toy

Rachel's nights out had become more frequent, and I couldn't help but notice. When I asked her where she was going, she hesitated, taking her time to answer. Everything pointed to one truth—she was hiding something from me. Rachel worked as a nurse at a clinic, usually starting early in the morning. Their clinic didn't have night shifts, and even on late days, she only worked until eleven. Yet, each time she headed out, it was around one or two in the morning. That just didn't add up. At first, she told me her colleagues were treating her to dinner. The next time, she said a close friend had taken her out for a fun night. The excuses for her later outings became more bizarre, sounding increasingly fake. In the beginning, I could at least try to keep her home at night, but then my work schedule changed to night shifts. After that, when Rachel went out in the middle of the night, I had no idea. She only told me what she was doing if I asked her. If I was out for work or on a business trip, she didn't even bother to text me before leaving. I could feel a crack forming in our relationship, and it was slowly getting wider. But I didn't quite understand what could have pushed Rachel away from me. We had been married for almost three years, and our relationship had always been strong, but something felt off in the last six months. The passion we once shared was fading away. Even when I wanted to hold her and be close at night, she pushed me away. If she agreed reluctantly, her unhappy expressions completely killed the mood. At times, she even invented excuses to avoid being intimate. I wasn't blind; I knew her attitude toward me had shifted dramatically—she felt different, almost like a stranger. With all this, it was hard not to jump to conclusions. Honestly, Rachel had been acting very strangely. Even if our feelings weren't as deep as we used to be, she shouldn't have looked at me with that kind of disgust. I couldn't shake the feeling that Rachel must have done something to betray my trust. It turned out, my suspicions were not unfounded. Today, while I helped Rachel sort through her dirty clothes, I caught sight of some words printed on her wild-looking underwear—"Master's toy". Those words left me stunned, my eyes wide with disbelief as a wave of anger surged within me. I couldn't stay calm; my body shook, and my chest tightened with rage. I knew Rachel well; she would never wear such outrageous underwear, let alone have something so shameful written on it. In front of me, she had always shown dignity and grace, never acting like someone who would dress so provocatively. My mind raced, and I felt like I could barely stand. 'Why? What did I do to deserve this from her?' I endured so much to marry her—a hefty wedding gifts, a romantic wedding, and a honeymoon abroad; I had given her everything. I poured my heart and soul into our relationship. But what I received in return after we married was not happiness, but coldness and isolation. Now, she had even betrayed me directly! I doubted what was the point of a man wearing himself thin for half a lifetime to marry a woman. At that moment, I found the words "true love" laughable. They say marriage brings happiness; I used to believe that, but now I see it as a cruel irony. Marriage never offered any benefits to men, only endless drawbacks. After getting married, a man's responsibilities multiplied, the pressure increased, and life constantly exploited him. I couldn't help but sigh, thinking, 'Besides my parents, how many people truly cherished me?' The answer in my heart was very few. Marriage isn't scary; what's truly frightening is marrying the wrong person. In the evening, Rachel's attitude remained as cold as ever, and she didn't even bother to offer a simple greeting. Seeing her like this, I knew that even if I questioned her, she wouldn't bother to explain herself. No explanation was fine; once I found solid evidence of her betrayal, she would have nothing to say.