I received an anonymous email.

The man in the video, tangled with a younger woman, was unmistakably my husband.

Eight years together, and people had always said I was his white moonlight, the one he had dreamed of in his youth.

But in a moment of reckless indulgence, he sneered, "Beatrix Zimmerman is dull, boring, and timid. How could she ever compare to you?"

"Besides, I’ve been with her for eight years. I’m tired of her already."

His light and dismissive tone was almost laughable if not for the venom it carried.

It was funny how people forgot the struggles of their climb once they reached the peak, losing what had once left them in awe.

That day, I left without a word, keeping everything calm as though nothing had changed.

Saul Gatlin had no idea that the timid, dull woman he looked down on had a spine of steel.

Her life would never be the same.

***

I received an anonymous email when I moved into the new house.

It was empty except for a compressed video file.

I barely glanced at it, brushing it off as nothing important. Instead, I called Saul, who was out socializing, to remind him not to overindulge.

His voice came through the phone, warm and soothing.

“Wife, you’ve worked hard with the move today. I’ll be back soon, and bring your favorite little cakes.”

I couldn’t help but smile, my heart softening at his words.

For eight years, Saul had been like this: thoughtful, caring, and always attentive.

Everyone knew that Saul, the young and dashing CEO, was a devoted husband.

I hung up, feeling a familiar warmth in my chest, but the tranquility didn’t last long.

A new email appeared in my inbox.

[Don’t you want to take a look? The content is some sensational gossip about CEO Saul.]

I scoffed at the message, feeling nothing but disdain.

For years, Saul had kept his slate spotless. He never allowed even a hint of scandal, and no single woman in his circle could spark a rumor.

People often said I had found a rare gem in Saul, the perfect husband.

And I believed them wholeheartedly.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I clicked on the video.

The screen flickered to life, and there he was, Saul, unmistakable in his sharp suit, holding a young woman in his arms.

My heart froze as I watched him kiss her, their breaths tangling in a way that made my stomach churn.

The girl pouted, her voice sweet and teasing.

“Saul, you visit me five times a week. Doesn’t that mean you like me more than your wife?”

Saul tilted his head, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he looked at her.

“Do you know how long it took me to win her?” he said, his tone carrying a nostalgic warmth. “Three years. It took me three years to make her mine. She’s my white moonlight, the apple of my eye, my precious.”

Each word felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest, but the worst was yet to come.

Saul, with a smile that now seemed cruel, licked his lips and added, “But Beatrix? She’s dull, timid, and boring. How could she compare to someone as lively as you?”

He chuckled as if amused by his own words. “Eight years with her, and I’m already tired of it.”

The girl giggled, a mock, thoughtful expression on her face.

“So, Saul, aren’t you worried she’ll find out? Maybe cause a scene?”

Her question hung in the air, but Saul didn’t even flinch.

Saul shrugged, his voice carrying a casual arrogance. “So what if she finds out? She doesn’t even have a job. She depends on me for everything. Where could she possibly go?”

The girl giggled, climbing onto his shoulder, her tone sweet and coy.

“Will you get tired of me, Saul? If you do, I’ll be so heartbroken.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, teetering on the edge of falling, giving her an almost pitiful charm.

Saul smiled indulgently, shaking his head with a tenderness that made my stomach churn. “How could I bear to make you sad? When you cry, my heart feels like it’s breaking.”

Satisfied, she leaned in, their lips meeting again as if sealing his promise.

The video continued to play, and then I saw him answer a call. My call.

On the other end of the line, it was me, softly asking about his health, reminding him to rest.

His voice was warm and reassuring as if he were still the husband I thought I knew. But even as he spoke to me, he pulled the young woman into his arms, holding her close.

That day remained etched in my mind.

That evening, when Saul returned, he carried a massive bouquet of flowers, their vibrant petals a mockery of the ache inside me.

From his pocket, he pulled out a delicate necklace, the kind that sparkled under the faintest light, and gently clasped it around my neck.

Overwhelmed, I threw myself into his arms, peppering his face with kisses as if trying to etch this moment into eternity.

He stroked my hair, his gaze soft and filled with what seemed like love. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy,” he murmured, his voice warm enough to melt glaciers.

But then, the tears on my cheeks brought me back to reality.

I glanced at the screen, at the entwined figures who had shattered my world. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, sharp and hollow.

Saul, the man who had promised to cherish me forever on our wedding day, could still whisper words of comfort while holding another in his arms.

Shutting off my phone, I let my eyes close, but there was no peace to be found.

My heart felt as though it had been slashed repeatedly, each cut deeper than the last, bleeding in silence.

And yet, the courage to confront him was nowhere to be found.

A nail driven deep into a wall might be removed, but the scar it leaves can never truly heal.

When Saul was just nineteen, he had boldly rushed toward me through a sea of people, holding a bouquet of flowers as though they were his heart.

He swore with unshakable conviction that he would love me, Beatrix, until the day he died.

But promises made in passion often wither before they reach their end.

By the time Saul returned that night, the clock was nearing midnight.

After his shower, he slid into bed beside me, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist as though he couldn’t bear to let me go.

I stiffened, an inexplicable disgust rising within me, and shifted ever so slightly away from his touch.

He noticed instantly, drawing closer with an almost childlike confusion, his voice soft and pleading.

“Wife, are you upset? I swear I couldn’t get away; that’s why I came back late.”

His tone brimmed with regret as he continued, “I’m sorry. How about tomorrow? Didn’t you say you wanted to visit the hot springs? Let me take you there, okay?”

I met his gaze, those familiar eyes filled with concern, but instead of comfort, they only made my heart ache.

A numbing pain spread through me as I stared at the man who had once been my world.

For years, we had shared the same bed, yet I had no idea how effortlessly he concealed his lies. Not a single crack in his perfect mask.

But I had become a skilled actress, too.

“It’s fine,” I said softly, forcing a smile. “Just some insomnia.”

I reached out, brushing a hand over his cheek. “You’ve had a long day. Get some rest. Don’t overthink it.”

His expression softened as he smiled, warm and genuine, pulling me back into his embrace.

By morning, Saul was the same as ever, slipping seamlessly into the role of the perfect husband.

The toothpaste was neatly squeezed out, and the breakfast was arranged on the table with care.

Every detail whispered of love.

And yet, all I could hear was the echo of a promise that had died somewhere along the way.

But even a man who once vowed to love me deeply could find space in his heart for someone else.

My phone buzzed, and a message from Saul lit up the screen.

[Wife, I’ll be home soon. Let’s go out for dinner together.]

I replied with a simple, detached response, unsure where to direct the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

Then, another notification. An email.

Saul, who had claimed to be buried in work, was at her house again. The woman didn’t bother to hide her triumph, flaunting his presence with shameless boldness.

Strangely, I felt no anger. Just an eerie calm, as though a burden had finally been lifted from my shoulders.

After shedding what felt like the last tear I had left for him, I booked an appointment at the hospital for an examination.

My suspicion was confirmed. I was pregnant.

Deep down, I had already known. Even before we moved, I had felt the subtle signs.

I had planned to wait until after the chaos of moving settled to confirm it, imagining the joy on Saul’s face when I shared the news.

He had always loved children.

But now, it seemed pointless to tell him.

I hadn’t yet decided whether to keep the baby.

Once, I had longed for this child, imagining how it might bring us closer.

Now, its existence felt like a cruel reminder, an unrelenting needle pricking at the reality of Saul’s betrayal.

The phone rang as I stepped out of the hospital. It was Saul.

His voice carried its usual warmth as he asked where I was.

I didn’t hesitate to tell him the truth. “I just left the hospital. Can you come pick me up?”

In no time, Saul arrived. He rushed to my side, his eyes scanning me with concern as though searching for signs of something he didn’t yet know.

"Wife, why did you go to the hospital? Are you feeling unwell?"

The concern on his face was almost palpable, his eyes wide with worry. It was as though the world had come to a halt, and all that mattered was me.

I pushed his hand away, merely brushing it off and saying I was visiting a friend.

He exhaled deeply, his tension easing as the fear melted from his expression, replaced by the same familiar tenderness.

It felt like nothing had changed.

But as I looked at him, a chill crept up my spine, spreading from my feet to my head. How could he turn on this charm so easily?

Just hours ago, he had been in the arms of another woman, yet here he was, holding me as if he had never wavered.

Words eluded me, and I found myself silently following his lead.

Saul seemed determined to make up for the tension between us, going out of his way to win me back.

He reserved a table at the finest restaurant and bought me gifts that were as extravagant as they were expensive.

But no matter how much he tried, I couldn’t bring myself to smile, not even faintly.

How many women had he done this for?

How many times had that woman, the one who kept sending me emails, been the one after me?

Just as the thought crossed my mind, the phone rang, pulling me from the depth of my thoughts.

Saul glanced at it impatiently before hanging up, his mood visibly shifting.

"Is it work?" I asked softly, offering him a chance to take the call.

He hesitated for a split second, then picked it up. "It’s my assistant. Probably needs something from the company. I’ll be back in two minutes, wife."

I already knew who was calling. Zelda Finnegan.

It had to be her.

But I didn’t say a word.

As Saul stepped away, absorbed in the phone call, I found myself watching him, lost in the past.

I could almost hear the old Saul again, the one I once knew, the one who had once begged for my forgiveness.

"Beatrix, don’t be sad, it’s my fault, my mistake."

"Please don’t ignore me, Beatrix," he had pleaded, his voice raw with desperation.

He grabbed my sleeve, repeating his apologies as his eyes filled with tears.

Even before I could cry, he was already shedding his own.

"Beatrix, you can hit me or scold me, but please don’t ignore me. I’m scared."

The phone rang again, snapping me back to the present.

I glanced at it, and once again, that familiar email flashed before my eyes.

This time, it wasn’t words of apology. It was a test result.

She was pregnant.

Four months along.

I quickly glanced over at Saul, who was still deep in conversation.

He must have known by now.

Saul’s voice was strained, his agitation creeping through, and I could barely make out his words.

“Get rid of it, and then come find me.”

His eyes met mine, and he quickly forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Just as I absorbed the weight of his words, another message from Zelda Finnegan popped up on my phone.

[Mrs. Gatlin, how’s it going? Did you see clearly?]

[I’m pregnant with President Gatlin’s child. He said he’ll divorce you soon and marry me.]

[You know, President Gatlin has long since grown tired of you. He said you’re too rigid and boring, no longer satisfying him. How can you still hold the position of Mrs. Gatlin?”]

A bitter laugh escaped me.

As Saul walked back in, he raised an eyebrow at me, his curiosity piqued.

“What’s so funny?”

I quickly turned off my phone, offering only a vague response.

“Just watching a funny video.”

Throughout dinner, neither of us spoke much, our thoughts tangled in a web of their own.

When the meal ended, Saul drove me back.

He casually mentioned that his assistant had called earlier with matters that needed his attention.

I knew exactly what it was; he was off to handle Zelda’s little ‘problem.’

Once he left, Zelda didn’t waste any time.

The messages started flooding in, each one more taunting than the last.

[Beatrix, has President Gatlin finally left you?]