As Christmas approached, the beauty center I frequented had no private rooms available. The beautician asked if I minded sharing a room. I thought it wasn't a big deal and agreed.

The person sharing the room with me was a young woman who looked somewhat familiar.

When paying, the woman was told that her card balance was insufficient. "Babe, my beauty card doesn't have enough money," the woman said coquettishly into her phone.

"Baby, wait a moment. I'll transfer some money to you right now. Will 20,000 be enough?" A pampering male voice came through the phone, sounding exactly like my husband, Dexter Keaton.

As I chuckled inwardly, thinking I was being overly suspicious, my phone buzzed with a message: [20,000 deducted from my account.] At that moment, I felt as if I had fallen into an icy abyss, my entire body cold.

——

Christmas trees lined the streets, adorned with various sparkling decorations, but my mind was blank, I was unable to feel any festive joy. After leaving the beauty center, I sat in my car for a long time.

Dexter and I had been together since our school days, from uniforms to wedding dresses. I couldn't believe that someone who cared for me so meticulously every day could betray me.

Yet, I had to admit that ten years of love had ultimately lost to the temptations of the outside world. I closed my eyes and let the tears silently fall.

I didn't know how long I cried until the tears dried up. Wiping away the traces of tears on my face, I took out my phone and called my lawyer, "Mr. Vaughn, please draft a divorce agreement for me …"

After hanging up, I touched up my makeup until there was no sign I had cried, then drove home. Dexter should have already been home, his car was parked in the adjacent space.

Using a spare key, I opened his car and began searching for any suspicious traces. However, Dexter was meticulous. The dashcam's records had been completely erased and the car was cleaned spotless, leaving no trace.

Disappointed, I was about to get out when I noticed a small piece of transparent plastic under the passenger seat. My heart sank.

Judging by its shape, if I wasn't mistaken, it was the plastic outer wrapping of a condom package.

When I returned upstairs, I acted as though nothing had happened and opened the door.

Dexter was cooking in the kitchen. Hearing the door open, he leaned halfway out and greeted me as usual, "You're back! Wash your hands, dinner's almost ready."

As he spoke, he kept moving, deftly plating the stir-fried dishes. When he came out of the kitchen holding a plate and saw me barefoot, his expression darkened.

Placing the plate on the dining table, Dexter frowned and walked over, "How many times have I told you? You have a cold constitution, don't walk barefoot on the floor."

Though his words carried disapproval, his actions were gentle as he helped me put on slippers. I stood there stiffly, my eyes stinging. Who would have thought that such a gentle, considerate and thoughtful husband would cheat?

Noticing my reddened eyes, Dexter asked, "What's wrong?"

I blinked hard, forcing back the tears threatening to fall and smiled, "Nothing."

Dexter thought I was touched and smiled, his lips curling upward as he affectionately ruffled my hair, "Silly woman."

I chuckled bitterly in my heart. Yes, I was a complete fool.

I carefully observed Dexter's expression. His eyes were sincere, I couldn't detect even a trace of deceit or pretense. During dinner, he continued, as always, to keep adding food to my plate.

I frowned. To avoid raising suspicion, I forced myself to eat a few bites despite my disgust, quietly pushing the rest aside with my cutleries.

"Darling, did you spend some money today?" I asked casually while eating.

After asking, I discreetly observed Dexter's expression. His hand holding the fork paused briefly and a flash of regret swept across his face.

I guessed he must have been careless when transferring the money earlier. Otherwise, with his usual caution, he would never have used the stored-value card under my name.

But in just a split second, Dexter adjusted his expression, pretending to stay calm as he admitted and explained, "Yes, a friend needed money urgently. I was in a rush and didn't realize I used your card until after the transfer."

He then added pitifully, "Honey, you're not mad I acted without telling you first, are you?" With a nervous look, he cautiously watched my reaction.

Feigning surprise, I said, "How could I be?"

Seeing my response, he quietly let out a sigh of relief.

I then casually asked, "Which friend was it?"

It seemed like he had already prepared an answer, replying naturally, "Oh, an old childhood friend of mine. You don't know him."

I nodded, not pressing further and continued eating. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him exhale deeply, visibly relieved. I tightened my grip on the fork, feeling a dull ache as if a boulder was pressing on my chest.

Dexter could lie to me so calmly and naturally. This certainly wasn't the first time. Unfortunately, it had taken me so long to realize it.

That night, we lay in bed together. Dexter took off his glasses and leaned toward me, his intentions unmistakable.

As he wrapped his arm around me, my body involuntarily tensed up. The thought of those hands holding another woman made me feel nauseous.

When I turned my head slightly, his kiss missed its mark. He froze for a moment.

I removed his hand from my waist and closed my eyes, "I'm tired."

His expression grew complicated. Though he knew it was just an excuse, he still said gently, "Alright, I won't bother you. Get some rest."

I used to love being in his embrace, resting my head against his chest and listening to his strong, steady heartbeat. It always made me feel so safe. But now, all I wanted was to get as far away from him as possible.

Not long after, Dexter fell asleep. His breathing became steady and soft.

His phone lay beside him. He had never set any defenses against me and I'd never felt the need to check it due to my trust in him. But tonight, I wanted to look.

I entered the password and his phone unlocked immediately. I searched through his WhatsApp, Instagram and other apps, but found nothing incriminating.

The person he messaged the most was his assistant, Scarlett Donovan. Their conversations were strictly about work, normal, professional, with no hint of anything inappropriate.

Yet, I trusted my instincts. There was no way he had no contact with that woman. I just hadn't found the evidence yet.

Just as I was about to put his phone down, something struck me as odd, my husband, who never shopped online, had installed the Amazon app.

I opened Amazon and checked the order center first, it was empty. He hadn't purchased anything there.

As I was about to exit, I noticed a red '1' notification on the chat button. In that instant, my heart raced wildly. I felt I was about to uncover the secret Dexter had been hiding.

Sure enough, in the chat list, there was only one profile picture, a woman's and it matched Scarlett's WhatsApp profile picture exactly.

She had sent over a few revealing and provocative photos, her gaze teasing, "Babe, do you miss me?"

My brow furrowed tightly as a wave of nausea rose within me. I never imagined that Dexter secretly had a taste for this sort of thing.

It turns out men are all the same, they might appear dignified and proper in public, but behind closed doors, they still crave the wild and scandalous.

Before I could respond, Scarlett continued, "I ran into your wife today. She didn't suspect anything, did she?"

My eyes narrowed. The only place I'd gone today was the beauty center, so the person sharing the room with me must have been her. Scarlett must have recognized me at the beauty center.

As for why I didn't recognize her, it was because her appearance had changed drastically, she looked entirely different from the person I'd met before. Scarlett was once a poor student I sponsored and now, she's Dexter's assistant.

Back then, she was frail and skinny, with a sallow complexion and dry, yellowish, frizzy hair, like someone suffering from prolonged malnutrition. She avoided eye contact and carried an air of extreme insecurity.

After marrying Dexter, I hadn't been able to get pregnant. At first, I wanted to leave it to fate, but as time passed and I grew older, I decided to leave my job and focus on trying to conceive.

With my departure, Dexter's workload increased, so I suggested he hire an assistant to share the burden. At the time, Scarlett had just graduated and was looking for an internship. I recommended her to Dexter.

Initially, Dexter didn't want to hire her. From her appearance to her qualifications and abilities, nothing about her met his standards. But I kept persuading him to give her a chance, asking him to take good care of her for my sake.

In the beginning, Dexter frequently complained to me about Scarlett's lack of competence, her slow learning curve and her inefficiency. I encouraged him, saying that all rookies start from scratch and improve with time.

But at some point, Dexter stopped mentioning her altogether and gradually, I forgot about her existence.

I never expected that in just two years, Scarlett would undergo such a dramatic transformation. It was clear she had invested significantly in her appearance.

And I never thought Dexter would cheat on me with someone he once despised. The world had truly gone beyond my comprehension.

Imitating Dexter's tone, I replied, "No!"

"Babe, aren't I smart? Using a shopping app as a chat tool, your wife won't find anything even if she checks your phone!" Even through the screen, I could feel Scarlett's smugness.

I smirked coldly. Clever indeed. It's no wonder she's so confident. If I didn't know Dexter never shops online, I wouldn't have suspected anything.

"Mm, smart," I typed, keeping my response short to avoid arousing suspicion.

Yet, Scarlett still noticed something. "Huh? Babe, what's wrong with you today? Why so cold?" she asked suddenly.

For a moment, I didn't know how to respond. Dexter had always been warm and gentle toward me but reserved and distant with others. I couldn't imagine what his passionate side looked like.

After a brief pause, I typed, "She's next to me."

This seemed to put her mind at ease. "Okay, babe, I'll log off now," she replied. Scarlett went offline.

Scrolling up, I found the earlier messages vulgar and explicit, burning my eyes and further shattering my perception of Dexter.

I recorded all their chat logs on my phone, then deleted the conversation and placed his phone back where it was.