The Tears of My Cheating Wife

Chapter 1

It was now midnight.

Gianna was lying in bed, having just gone through a crying jag. I had comforted her for a long time before she finally fell asleep from exhaustion.

Tears still clung to the corners of her eyes; she still couldn't let go of that poor child. This had happened many times over the past two months.

Every time I saw her guilt and tears, the guilt in my heart grew heavier.

In order to provide her and our future children with better living conditions, I was not satisfied with just delivering food. I also took on a long-distance running job.

That night, I received an order from 10 kilometers away.

Although it was raining heavily outside, the high running fee of 150 dollars was enough for me to take Gianna out for a good meal.

But the road was dark and slippery, and I fell on my way to the destination after picking up the goods from the pharmacy in the east of the city, scraping my elbows and knees.

But I couldn't care less about that. By the time I reached Room 1302 of Green Hill Residential Complex in the dark, I was already past the delivery time.

After hearing the doorbell, a man opened the door, cursing.

My face was hidden behind my helmet and mask, but I recognized his handsome, angular face.

Wasn't he the man who hit my wife at the Mateo Road intersection two months ago and kindly sent her to the hospital? What was his name again? I remembered his last name was Davis.

When I rushed to the hospital, he was at the cashier paying the bill. He said that Gianna had suddenly rushed out into the road. Gianna admitted it tearfully.

I apologized profusely and paid him 5,000 dollars for the windshield repair.

I didn't expect to run into my benefactor while making a delivery!

"Why are you so late?" The man snatched the paper bag from my hand. "It's all wet! Don't do this job if you can't do it properly!"

I was about to apologize, the word "Davis" still not yet leaving my lips, when a soft, lazy female voice came from inside the house, making my blood run cold.

"Honey, why aren't you in yet? I've been waiting forever!"

"Coming." A sly smile appeared on Davis' face. He turned and glared at me, then slammed the door shut.

"That cuckold will be home at two. We don't have much time to play." The voice faded, but I would recognize it even if it turned to ashes.

It was my wife, Gianna.

*****

The little bear keychain lying in the hallway was handmade by me. The woman inside should have been sleeping soundly in my bed.

I didn't know how I left the Green Hill Residential Complex. I only remember that when I rolled down the stairs, the pain in my body was numb, but I still managed to get up in a daze.

I had to go home. Gianna was waiting for me at home.

The streetlight downstairs in our building was broken. I stood in the unseen shadows, watching Gianna get out of the taxi.

She looked around furtively for a moment before going upstairs.

I figured she must have washed up and gone to bed, so I quickly stubbed out my eighth cigarette butt and put on a smile before entering the elevator.

As soon as I opened the door, I heard the sound of slippers shuffling. Gianna was wearing a little bear nightgown and fluffy yellow slippers, rubbing her sleepy eyes, looking like I had just woken her up.

"You're back?" She naturally took the dripping raincoat from me and hung it outside the door.

I shrank my neck unnaturally. "It's quite cold in here. Didn't you turn on the heater?"

Gianna froze for a moment, then ran to turn up the temperature of the radiator. "Maybe it's broken. It hasn't been heating."

I had just bought it less than six months ago. How could it be broken?

It wasn't broken; it was because she had snuck out to have a rendezvous with someone, and the automatic power-off had kicked in with no one home.

There hadn't been enough time for it to heat up after she got back.

I mumbled, "Yes."

"Why are you home so early today?"

"It's raining. There aren't as many orders."

"Doesn't that mean you're earning less? The delivery fee is higher on rainy days!" Gianna grumbled, sounding somewhat dissatisfied.

She didn't know that I also worked as a runner at night in addition to delivering food. If she really cared about me, she would have seen that I was limping and that my right hand was trembling and weak.

But she didn't ask a single question. She was just going through the motions of being a wife.

The hot water showered down on my head, and my tears of pain and disappointment mixed with the water and ran down my face. I clenched my jaw, not daring to cry out.

I had been in love with Gianna for three years and married for two.

Five years made it difficult for me to let go. If someone I had truly loved suddenly disappeared from my life, wouldn't I collapse?

I slapped myself. I hated my own incompetence and cowardice.

Gianna had been with me for five years, and she still hadn't had a good life. It was me who couldn't give her promises and a future!

That man—maybe she was just confused for a moment. Everyone deserved a second chance.

For the next few nights, I came home early. I accompanied Gianna in watching dramas, scrolling through videos, and eating late-night snacks. She snuggled in my arms, becoming more and more restless.

*****

"No orders these days?"

"I'm a little tired after working so hard for the past few months. I need a break."

Gianna turned over and looked at me seriously. "It's Valentine's Day soon. You will earn a lot from flower orders. Are you sure you're not going out?"

Seeing that I didn't speak, she frowned in anger and tossed the remote control onto the side of the sofa. "I'm tired. I don't want to watch anymore. I'm going to sleep!"

At that moment, the doorbell suddenly rang. I rushed out and came back with a bouquet of red roses, which I presented to Gianna.

"Happy Valentine's Day, honey! I will always love you!"

The sweet response I had been expecting did not come. Gianna froze, then took the bouquet woodenly and muttered a stiff "thank you."

My enthusiasm was instantly extinguished.

"Why did you suddenly think of giving me flowers?"

"Didn't you say I wasn't romantic? The flower language of 99 red roses is 'forever and ever. Honey, will you always be by my side?"

Perhaps my gaze was too intense, for Gianna uncomfortably touched her neck. "The heater is on too high. I'm going to turn it down."

She turned around, and I smiled coldly, my eyes reddening.

"Honey, you know what? The other night, when I came home late four days ago, I delivered a box of condoms to the Green Hill Residential Complex."

The roses scattered on the floor with a "thud."

"I was thinking, what kind of couple would buy that kind of thing from a pharmacy ten kilometers away? They must not be decent people. How could they compare to my well-behaved wife at home?"

Gianna's thin back began to tremble. I walked up to her, held her restless shoulders, and continued speaking to myself.

"Do you know what I saw? I saw the man who sent you to the hospital last time. What was his name again? Jacob? What did you call him inside? Honey? And what did you call me? Cuckold?"

"No, honey, listen to my explanation."

"Cuckold? Such a thoughtful nickname!"

My bloodshot eyes ached, and I stared at her tear-stained, guilty face, unable to squeeze out a single tear. I kept asking myself why, when I was so devoted to her, could she, within two months of her miscarriage, be two-timing me with another man while pretending to be nice to me.

"You said you weren't feeling well, so I didn't sleep with you! There were twelve condoms in that box! Twelve!"

The thorn that had pierced my heart suddenly extended, stabbing my spine and twisting relentlessly.

Gianna collapsed to the ground, crying uncontrollably. She clutched at my pants, begging me to listen to her explanation.

"What explanation do you have? Going to another man's house for a late-night snack? And what did you eat? Condoms? Let's get a divorce, Gianna."