After the divorce, I was provoked by the mistress

After my divorce from my husband, we continued living together for the sake of minimizing the impact on our children. This arrangement lasted for four years. One day, he brought a young girl home.

***

After my divorce from my husband, we continued living together for the sake of minimizing the impact on our children. This arrangement lasted for four years.

That day, he brought a young girl home.

The girl was really beautiful, with expressive eyes, a small mouth, and a face the size of a palm, looking completely harmless. She seemed a bit shy when she saw me.

My ex-husband handed her a glass of water, and then they went into the innermost room.

Since the divorce, I have been living with our two sons in a 430-square-foot room outside, while my ex-husband, Olly Barker, has been living in a small 100-square-foot room at the back.

The girl obediently went into the room with him, and Olly's intentions were clear.

I sat in the living room and felt suffocated, only hearing the sound of voices coming from inside the room.

"Who is that lady outside?"

"A nanny!"

I endured and returned to my own room, feeling even more stifled.

I divorced Olly four years ago. After the divorce, we split the house in half. The kids were still young, with the elder only three and the younger only one at that time.

To avoid hurting the two sons, I accepted Olly's suggestion to divorce but stay in the same house.

We still lived together as a family of four.

Over the years, Olly adjusted his work situation. He used to be away on business trips for more than half a month and hardly ever around.

He changed jobs, reducing his business trips and spending more time with the kids and me.

Our relatives have been encouraging us to remarry, but I didn't expect him to bring home such a young girl.

"For the sake of the children," I thought to myself.

Over the years, for this reason, I stayed at home to take care of the children.

I had no personal life or job, doing some small side gigs. Most of the household expenses were covered by Olly.

I composed myself and went to the kitchen. I had bought some vegetables in the afternoon but hadn't washed them yet.

There was a small mirror in the kitchen, very tiny, placed there by my younger son, Tyler Barker.

He likes to look at himself in the small mirror in the kitchen every morning, smile at himself, and then leave for school.

I picked up the vegetables and looked up, just in time to see my reflection in that tiny mirror.

How long had it been since I properly used a mirror to touch up my makeup?

I used to be such a proud white-collar worker.

The reflection in the mirror showed me with a sallow complexion, sagging skin, and my once bright eyes now lacking their original sparkle due to years of hard work.

After having two sons, I rarely exercised, and my middle-aged figure had lost its appeal to the opposite sex.

What should I do if Olly remarries?

The children must be supported; they are still young.

I stood there, aimlessly, with the water in the kitchen flowing away.

"Hey, do you need help?"

It was Olly's voice. I snapped out of my daze and saw him looking radiant and energetic, like a man in his early thirties.

It's true that women age easily. I've lost my shine after staying home all these years.

"Has she left?"

I asked carefully. Olly didn't answer directly.

"Just a friend."

He washed a tomato for himself.

"What kind of friend?"

I pressed on, as I don't like guessing. Imagining things makes me fall apart.

Olly was in a great mood and answered vaguely, saying that tonight we could add a chicken leg.

Because he had been promoted again, we could celebrate with the kids.

I didn't know where the chicken legs came from. Olly transferred money and asked me to go buy them.

Fine, I'll go buy them. He's really gotten used to ordering me around.

I glared at him, and he grinned and pushed me. I put on a mask, grabbed my phone, and went out.

Olly is still generous to the three of us, never cutting back on the money for groceries and living expenses.

I walked quickly to the nearest market and ran into the girl who had come to the house earlier. She was holding a takeout box of lobsters and happened to bump into me.

"Senior, are you buying vegetables? I'm Zoe Ball. Tonight, Olly is having lobster at my place. You might want to buy less."

What does she call me?

I stood at the market, feeling dizzy and disoriented, with tears unexpectedly welling up in my eyes.

I'm only thirty-five, yet I'm called a "Senior" by twenty-something girls?

I felt a surge of anger and a metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

For the sake of my children, I've lost my job and my life, and ended up as just another "Senior" or nanny in others' eyes.

I can't continue like this.