Dear, Don't Say You're Sad About the Divorce

I was four years older than Henry Sullivan. He pursued me for six years before I finally agreed to marry him.

He doted on me deeply and said he would only love me in this life.

But later, I overheard a conversation between him and his friends.

"Women start to look old once they turn thirty. No matter how pretty Sophia is, she'll still have fine lines around her eyes.

Now, I can't bring myself to touch her. She seems to be full of a stale. Unlike the wild and sexy vixens outside, who are both enticing and thrilling..."

Henry, once unfaithful, forever untrusted.

I wouldn't sacrifice my entire life for seven years of affection.

It was two o'clock in the morning when he returned home.

He looked at me by the bed for a while, took the cigarette box, and went out again.

Actually, I didn't fall asleep.

I got up and went to the living room. Through the curtains, I heard Henry complaining on the phone with a friend.

"Luckily, she's asleep. I was really afraid she'd ask me to sleep with her. I don't want to touch her at all right now.

Even if she's beautiful, so what? This woman starts becoming unpleasant and sickening as soon as she turns thirty.

Besides, I can't even take care of the sexy ladies outside, so why should I bother dealing with her?"

If I hadn't heard it with my own ears, I wouldn't have believed that such cruel words came from Henry, who had always doted on me.

We hadn't been intimate for two months.

Henry had been very busy recently, working overtime almost every day and occasionally having to go on business trips.

He said he didn't want to wake me up, so he just slept in the study.

I still naively thought he was concerned about me and being considerate.

Little did I know, he was just disgusted with me and no longer loved me...

While he was taking a shower, I looked through his phone.

Henry's cell phone password was my birthday, and it had never changed over the years.

At the top of his chat history was a cartoon cat.

Their dialog box was clean, with only one message that the other party had sent not long ago.

[I love you too.]

These four simple words made my hands tremble uncontrollably.

So, this was the sexy vixen.

I clicked on the other person's Instagram.

Her first pinned post turned out to be a close-up photo of her and Henry.

Although he only showed half of his face, I recognized him at first sight.

The girl wore delicate and youthful makeup, smiling with the corners of her eyes curved. Indeed, she was young and beautiful.

Her Instagram was quite active, with the latest post being from tonight at ten o'clock.

Two hands tightly clasped together on the white bedsheet evoked suggestive thoughts.

The ring on the man's finger was the one I put on Henry years ago.

I didn't have time to feel sad and quickly scrolled down.

On May 20th, she posted a bouquet along with a transfer record of 5,200 dollars.

[We're going to enjoy our intimate time tonight again.]

I recalled that on that day, I had arranged a candlelit dinner to celebrate the day with Henry, but he received a last-minute notice to go on a business trip out of town.

Seeing their frequent displays of affection left me dazzled.

At last, my gaze landed on April 1st.

The picture she posted showed her sexy collarbone with a fresh kiss mark on it.

[He's finally mine.]

I thought about it and realized that Henry stopped being intimate with me from that day onward.

I took photos of their transaction records and interactions for safekeeping.

Then, I put the phone back in its place and went back to the bedroom to sleep.

The next morning, I was woken up by Henry's kiss.

In my haze, I recalled what he had said the night before, and I felt a wave of nausea. I pushed him away.

However, he didn't notice anything strange about me.

"Darling, breakfast is ready, and it's all your favorites," Henry said, affectionately pinching my cheek. "I have something else to do at the company, so I'll be leaving now."

His voice was as gentle as always.

After Henry left, I looked at the hot food and milk on the table, and my thoughts drifted back to seven years ago.

The first time I met him was on the day he registered as a freshman.

His suitcase was knocked open by students rushing by, and the clothes and belongings inside were scattered all over the floor.

I helped him pack his luggage and took him to find the dormitory.

I thought our interaction would be brief, but over the next three months, I kept running into him around campus. Each time, he would sweetly call my name.

During a morning meeting, I fainted from low blood sugar because I had woken up late and skipped breakfast.

Henry was the one who carried me to the infirmary.

From that day onwards, he would wait with breakfast every morning outside my dormitory building.

My roommate sighed with envy, "He is both handsome and charming. Why haven't you been with him yet?

I shook my head, as I was four years older than him. I had no interest in a relationship with a younger man.

Later, when I graduated and started working, he would wait downstairs at my company to pick me up after getting off work as long as he didn't have classes.

On weekends, he would come to my rented house and cook for me.

Whenever I tried to convince him to give up, he would put on a pitiable expression.

"Sophia, please don't send me away. I just want to be good to you."

After six years of his efforts to please me, I finally succumbed and fell for him.

Henry once said that he would make breakfast for me for the rest of his life.

Look how thoughtful and affectionate he was.

His heart was no longer with me, but he still remembered the promise he made to me.

If it weren't for the sweet photos of him and the other woman in the album, along with the undeniable evidence of large transfers in screenshots, I would have doubted whether last night's revelations were just a nightmare of my own making.

That night, Henry surprisingly returned home on time.

Looking at the empty dining table, he was stunned for a moment, then smiled and said, "Let's eat out tonight. I know a trendy restaurant..."

I shook my head and interrupted him, "I've eaten."

Only then did he notice a bowl of leftover instant pasta on the table.

He pretended to be angry and said, "Eating junk food is bad for your skin. Aren't you afraid of turning into an old woman?"

I had just celebrated my thirtieth birthday, which indeed made me older in Henry's eyes, who was only twenty-six years old.

I smiled awkwardly and replied, "Well, if I'm old, then so be it. It doesn't really matter."

He smiled and put his arm around my waist, saying affectionately, "You're still my darling no matter how old you are!"

As he said that, he came closer and wanted to kiss me.

Sensing his intense desire, I calmly and subtly avoided his advances.

"I'm tired and not in the mood," I stated firmly.

Henry froze, clearly unhappy, but he restrained his temper.

While I was washing dishes in the kitchen, he received a phone call.

Then, he picked up the coat on the sofa and said, "There's an urgent matter at work. I have to go. Don't wait for me."