When My Hearing Was Restored, I Uncovered My Husband's Affair

When I was a teenager, I lost half a leg saving Vernon Piers.

Later, I was bullied because of that leg, and in the process, I lost my hearing.

Vernon rushed back from thousands of miles away, his eyes red, and promised he’d take care of me for the rest of my life.

But ten years later, when my hearing was finally restored, the first thing I heard was a question from Vernon’s friend.

“Hey, Rosa Slater or Ella Vale, which one do you prefer?”

Vernon chuckled. “Of course, Ella. Rosa’s missing half a leg. It’s just a mood killer.”

It was as if he’d forgotten that Ella was the one who had caused me to lose my hearing.

“Rosa’s missing half a leg, it’s just a mood killer.”

When I heard those words, I was holding a dessert I’d spent hours carefully baking, ready to share the good news with Vernon—that I had regained my hearing.

But in that moment, I froze, unable to believe what I had just heard.

“Rosa?”

Vernon turned around, saw me standing there, and quickly took the plate from my hands. His gaze softened as he switched to sign language. “Why are you just standing there? Sit down.”

He had always told me not to stand for too long, knowing that the prosthetic leg would hurt after a while.

But then, his tone softened once more as he spoke to his friends, sitting comfortably. “If she stands too long, her leg hurts at night, and I have to massage it. Tch, sometimes I still can’t get used to her leg.”

For the first time, I heard the faintest hint of disdain in his voice. My tears almost betrayed me.

“I have something to do. You all go ahead,” I said, fighting back the tears, and calmly walked back to my room as if nothing was wrong.

But just as I entered, I overheard Vernon say, “She can’t hear you. What are you afraid of?”

Tears started streaming down my face, and I wiped them away hastily.

My gaze landed on the photo on the nightstand. It was a picture of me at seventeen and Vernon at eighteen.

That year, before the accident, we’d taken this photo together, still unaware that our love was about to face the harshest of trials. We had been so hopeful, so ready to build a beautiful future together.

But two months after that picture was taken, I was in a car crash on an overpass, saving Vernon’s life, but losing my left leg—the leg I had once danced with.

Eighteen-year-old Vernon had knelt by my hospital bed, tears in his eyes as he vowed to take care of me for the rest of my life.

Now, ten years later, twenty-eight-year-old Vernon and I were the couple everyone admired for our deep, unwavering love.

Little did I know, everyone but me knew that Vernon despised my leg and was bothered by it. He’d even cheated with the woman who had tormented me.

After his friends left, I heard Vernon on the phone, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window.

“Ella, don’t worry. I’ll be home soon.”

The sweet, seductive tone on the other end of the line made my body go stiff.

I’d heard that voice in so many of my nightmares.

Vernon’s expression remained warm, but as soon as he noticed me, he calmly hung up the phone.

“Rosa, there’s something at the company I need to take care of. Don’t wait for me for dinner tonight.”

I remembered the “home” he had just mentioned.

After we got married, Vernon bought this 300-square-meter villa and told me it was our home.

So now, where was he going? To whose home?

“Okay,” I said, forcing the words out, trying to stay composed. “You go ahead.”

With my approval, Vernon stepped forward and hugged me, then turned to instruct the maid, Daisy Sinclair. “Don’t forget to make Rosa some Clam Chowder.”

Daisy nodded.

After he left, Daisy typed something on her phone to ask about my dinner preferences. Once I replied, she glanced at the door, then back at me. Her eyes were full of sympathy as she muttered, “Rosa is so pitiful…”

Pitiful?