Two months into my cold war with Sean, the lover he’d been keeping finally danced her way right up to me, the real deal.

Everyone expected me to react the same way I always had before, kicking up a huge scene to stake my claim.

Instead, I looked at the intimate photos of Sean and her in the group chat, smiled, and sent them my blessing.

[Looking good. Wishing you two a long and happy life.]

The chat went dead silent. Sean must’ve sobered up from his little paradise because in the middle of the night, he drove home and pounded on my door.

He was furious. “Do you think this is funny?”

However, I only met his gaze calmly. “Honestly, after all these years, none of it is.”

Maybe because I’d gotten used to going along with him these past few years, Sean Roth had never seen me look at him like this before.

He fell silent in an instant and slipped back into his usual act, lowering his voice to sound gentle.

“Jane, I was just messing around with her. I only did it to make you jealous, that’s all. You know no one could ever take your place in my heart.”

I stared at him quietly, already guessing he’d probably try to smooth things over with some flashy gift.

Sure enough, the very next second, Sean pulled out the latest limited-edition purse from a luxury brand and held it out to me.

One glance at the tiny scratches on the bag told me it wasn’t new, probably one that his mistress had already used.

Besides, if he’d paid attention at all, he’d know I never kept anything pink in my closet.

When I didn’t take the bag, Sean’s face darkened with impatience.

“Jane, you’re getting harder and harder to please! Fine. How about I take you out tomorrow for a date, just the two of us?”

I shook my head, looking at the man who had been with me from school days to marriage life, and gave him my final ultimatum.

“Sean, either you cut ties with all those other women… or you cut ties with me.”

He let out a short laugh, pulled me into his arms, and said, “Alright, alright, I knew you were just jealous.”

Smelling the scent of rose clinging to his collar, I said nothing.

Then, Sean suddenly scooped me up and tossed me onto the bed. His eyes burned with desire, but I only told him to take a shower.

Lying in our bed and smelling another woman’s perfume made my chest ache. It was as if something was lodged in my throat, making it impossible to swallow or spit.

Sean used to respect my boundaries, never pushing, always gentle.

However, the more I caught him with others, the more he poured that leftover passion onto me.

At first, he’d laugh and say that flirting with others was not cheating and was just to spice up our marriage.

This time, though, I was so tired, having had enough of him.

Before the water stopped running in the bathroom, I turned over and faced away from his side of the bed.

When he came out, he sat on the edge, phone screen glowing. Although I didn’t know who he was texting, he muttered one word, “Buzzkill.”

Every syllable sank into my ears.

I didn’t even realize tears were sliding down my cheeks.

When I felt the mattress dip slightly under his weight, I couldn’t help but wonder how we’re lying so close together, yet our hearts felt so far apart.

The next morning, Sean canceled all his meetings just to cheer me up.

When we pulled up to the city’s most famous rooftop couples’ restaurant, I saw a heart-shaped display made entirely of fresh flowers.

I’d tried to book this place so many times before, but Sean had always been too busy with work to come. This time, to win me over, he booked the entire place for us.

However, it felt like biting into candy that had long since gone stale—sweet in theory, bitter in reality.

The restaurant’s speakers were playing the piano piece we used to love when we first fell for each other.

Suddenly, I was back at the arts festival in high school, where I danced while he played the piano. Everyone said we were a perfect match.

Later, right after graduation, he had played this very piece when he confessed to me.

We dated for four years and have been married for three. As his company grew, his time at home shrank.

At some point, the lipstick stains on his collars, the strawberry hair clips in his suit pockets, and the stray hairs in his folders started making me jump.

Last night, he asked why I was getting harder and harder to please. However, he’d forgotten that I used to be a girl who could be won over with a single sweet.

When the food came, a young waitress lost her grip on a tray and accidentally spilled hot soup onto my leg.

I yelped and jumped up. Sean rushed to steady the waitress, his eyes unconsciously revealing his worry for her.

My dress today was light and thin. Within moments, white steam rose from my thigh, the skin already stinging in a cluster of tiny burning spots.

It hurt so badly, but my chest hurt a thousand times worse.

I glanced toward the waitress with a ponytail, but Sean quickly stepped between us, blocking my view.

When he finally noticed my injury, he looked pained and immediately called the restaurant manager over.

Still, my gaze followed the waitress’s retreating figure, and I realized her back matched the girl in those photos I’d seen yesterday.

So this was her.

While the doctor treated my burn, Sean winced as he watched on, as if he were the one in pain.

Seeing me flinch, he told the doctor softly, “Please be gentle. My wife’s terrified of pain.”

His voice was so gentle that it made my eyes sting.

However, before I could say anything, he crouched in front of me and continued, “Jane, I found out that the waitress is fresh out of college. You’re Mrs. Roth, and should be more forgiving toward a young girl, don’t you think?”

I said nothing, only stared at the angry red burn across my leg.

Sean knew I cared about my looks and was afraid of pain. Even a single pimple could throw me off for days.

Now I had a burn big enough to make me give up wearing short skirts forever, yet he wanted me to be understanding?

The warmth that had just barely returned to my heart froze over again.

Then came the final blow. “Honestly, your burn isn’t that bad. Let’s just drop it. If word gets out that Mrs. Roth bullied a young girl, imagine how bad that would look!”

Every word sounded like it was for my sake, but each one was actually defending his lover.

The tenderness in his eyes when he looked at me was real, but his heart was no longer mine alone.

Suddenly, I felt tired. All those jealous outbursts and desperate attempts to keep him were nothing but a joke.

So I looked him straight in the eye and said, “Sean, I can stop being Mrs. Roth anytime.”

Sean froze at my words, looking at me with slight confusion. “Jane, don’t talk nonsense. Is your leg hurting that badly? Here, let me blow on it for you.”

He kneeled on one knee and gently blew on the burn.

Back when I was learning to ride a bike and fell, he used to do this—smiling and coaxing me out of my tears.

However, the wounds on the body can heal, but not the ones in the heart.

I stopped him and met his eyes seriously. “Sean, I mean it.”

“Why?”

He could not seem to accept it. Standing up, he looked down at me from above. “Just because I spoke up for some waitress?”

I nodded, too tired to argue anymore. “Let’s just call it that.”

I was sure he already knew the real reason and wasn’t about to tear off that thin veil between us. It would only make things uglier.

Seeing that I wasn’t budging, Sean’s expression darkened.

“Jane,” he rasped, “are you sure about this? You’d throw away seven years of us over something so small?”

My fingers curled slightly.

Then I thought of all the times I’d spent nights alone, of the empty chairs at dinners he promised to attend, of the strange perfume lingering on his shirts…

All the nights I lay awake, sick with fear of losing him, and suddenly, I had all the courage and resolve I needed.

I just wanted a good night’s sleep, without the constant anxiety over him.

So I nodded, pulled out my phone, and called a lawyer friend I knew. “Please help me draft a divorce agreement with Sean. The sooner, the better.”

When I hung up, Sean’s face had gone completely cold, his voice edged with anger. “Jane, maybe I’ve spoiled you too much after we got married that you’ve forgotten what’s important.

“I’ve already lowered myself to talk to you like this, and you’re still being unreasonable!”

He bent over and trapped me in his arms, his eyes a mix of icy malice and fury that was dark as ink.

“This relationship started because of me, so it should end when I say so. Who do you think you are to bring up divorce first?”

I froze.

A second later, he let go, but only to drive the point home. He snorted, “Fine, we can divorce. But remember, it’s because I don’t want you anymore.

“You think you’re still the girl you were back then? Please. There are plenty of women out there, younger and prettier than you. I don’t need you, Jane.”

The hospital room door slammed so hard it shook.

On his way out, he bumped into the doctor treating me, making the cotton swab press hard against my burn.

The sting in my leg was sharp, but somehow, my heart hurt more.

Sean was right. I wasn’t the young, radiant Jane I once was. However, he was no longer the gentle, genuine boy I remembered either.

I realized then that he would always hit me with a stick and hand me candy, dangling those memories of our younger love just enough to keep me.

What I’d been swallowing all this time was his expired love.

On the outside, it was coated in honey. Inside, it was sour, bitter, and laced with shards of glass, sharp enough to cut my heart.