She hadn't crossed the line of physical infidelity, but the emotional betrayal was a wound that festered beneath the surface. Despite the pain, I had no intention of divorcing her immediately. I was determined to salvage our marriage and weather this storm, believing that a chance at reconciliation was still possible.

Over the course of a week, I showered her with elaborate apologies – flowers, gifts and heartfelt gestures. Gradually, her icy demeanor began to thaw and a fragile truce was established between us.

Yet, the shadow of Lewis loomed large in our lives. Casual mentions of his condition became a recurring theme in our conversations, her tone always imbued with a righteous indignation. It was as if my discomfort was a reflection of my own cruelty.

I found myself trapped in a labyrinth of my own making, a prisoner of my vows and societal expectations. The weight of their approval was a heavy burden, but I continued to play the role of the perfect husband. I cooked, cleaned and provided, all while my heart withered within me.

Five years of unwavering devotion had yielded nothing but heartache. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow. If her heart truly belonged to another, I would not be the one to stand in her way.

With newfound resolve, I booked a ticket to Bali – a dream deferred and a promise to myself. I had always wanted to visit, originally planning it as our honeymoon destination. But this time, it was a declaration of independence, a refusal to be defined by a love that was one-sided.

When Sofia learned of my plans, her reaction was swift and furious. "I have no mood for a honeymoon. Lewis is still undergoing chemotherapy and needs care."

Her anger was genuine and once again, Lewis became the shield – a fragile weapon used against me. Despite her protests, the decision to divorce was already made.

My phone rang and it was Sofia calling. "Rowan, what kind of tantrum are you throwing? Lewis is now in a critical phase of his chemotherapy. I don't have time to placate you. My parents trust you and explaining this to them won't cost you anything."

I listened to her words in silence, absorbing the finality in her tone. After a moment, I spoke calmly. "Sofia, I've already printed the divorce agreement. If you have time, come back so we can sign it."

As soon as I finished speaking, a heavy silence enveloped the other end of the line. A sense of finality washed over me as I hung up the phone.

Approximately an hour later, the familiar creak of the front door shattered the quietude of my home. Sofia stood in the doorway, her face etched with a mixture of confusion and irritation.

"Rowan, what is wrong with you today?" Her voice was sharp, carrying an undercurrent of accusation. "You've mentioned divorce twice. This isn't like you at all."

Indeed, it wasn't. For years, I had been the epitome of the perfect husband. I had shielded her from her parents, covered up her indiscretions, even tolerated the intrusions of her former lover. But her treatment of me had been far from reciprocal.

I recalled the countless hours spent in the kitchen, slaving over a hot stove to appease Lewis' picky palate. Her subsequent criticism cut deeply, wounding my heart. I endured it all, my love for her acting as a shield against her words.

But the final blow came on the day of my surgery. Sofia brought Lewis home and had an affair. I even saw used condoms on the floor near the couch. Five years of a loveless marriage, punctuated by her claims of asexuality, were a cruel mockery of the vows we had exchanged. The discovery of their infidelity was the final nail in the coffin.

"In the past, I've been a fool," I began quietly, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. "I've pretended for too long. It's time for the truth."

Sofia stood motionless, her expression a mask of shock and disbelief. I continued, a bitter smile curving my lips. "Don't you and Lewis yearn to be together openly? This divorce will grant you that freedom. Consider it a belated wedding gift."

As I handed her the divorce agreement, I felt a strange sense of liberation. Exhaustion washed over me. I had spent countless nights waiting for her return, a prisoner in my own home. With a heavy heart, I retreated to the bedroom. "Just sign it," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Everything is yours."

Sofia's expression wavered between anger and panic. "Rowan, you can't be serious. After everything we've been through, you just want to throw it all away?"

A sharp rap jolted me from my sleep. My eyes snapped open as Sofia's insistent knocking echoed through the quiet morning. Her voice, muffled through the door, carried a pleading undertone.

"Rowan," she said, her tone soft and almost desperate. The rhythmic taps against the wood grew faster, mirroring the urgency in her voice. "Are you mad about last night? Or is it because I said no to us sleeping together yesterday?"

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I swung the door open. Sofia stood on the other side, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hope. She bit her lip nervously, shifting from foot to foot.

"Rowan, I can agree to sleep with you. I'll move into the master bedroom. Please, I don't want a divorce." Her voice trembled slightly, her eyes pleading.

A bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat. Wanting to have her cake and eat it too? If she couldn't let go of Lewis, why not simply divorce me? Or did she think I was such a useful fool that she couldn't bear to throw away?

The suggestion to sleep together was something I had proposed before I was reborn. When Sofia refused, I thought she was simply being asexual. But in my previous life, she secretly had a child with Lewis behind my back. The cuckold hat was on my head for who knew how long and I couldn't even take it off.

Sofia held up the divorce agreement, her hand shaking slightly as she tore it into pieces. "Rowan, I know I've been a terrible wife. But I promise to change. I'll try to see Lewis less, okay?" Her voice was filled with desperation, her eyes welling with tears.

My patience was wearing thin. Before I could respond, Sofia's phone rang. Lewis' sickly-sweet voice, carried through the quiet room, made my blood boil.

"Sofia, I feel sick. Can you come over and rub my head?"

Sofia glanced at me, her expression torn. The conflicting emotions on her face were too much to bear. I couldn't listen any longer and snatched the phone from her hand.

"Are you an idiot? If you're sick, go see a doctor. Stop trying to seduce someone else's wife!" My voice was filled with rage, each word a venomous bite.

"Even if you want to steal my wife, at least wait a few days. After Sofia divorces me, you can have her openly!"

I slammed the phone down, my anger barely contained. Sofia stared at me, her face a mask of shock.