On New Year's Eve, when my wife stood up me and my parents again to keep her childhood best friend company—because he had depression—I didn't make a scene this time. I just waited until she came home with her clothes in disarray, then handed her the divorce papers I'd already drafted.

She tore them up without hesitation, her face full of impatience.

"I told you ages ago, Derek has depression. If I'm not with him, he'll kill himself! Do you really want to watch my best friend die because of me and make me live with that guilt forever? How can you have so little compassion!"

I handed her another copy and said calmly, "You two slept together. I think it's disgusting."

——

Seeing me pull out the papers again, irritation flashed across Smokey Abbott's face. She didn't bother explaining—just turned and walked into the bathroom.

I didn't say a word. I stared at the black stockings she'd tossed by the bathroom door, at the dried stain on them, and sat there motionless as the torn scraps of paper settled over me.

Faintly, I could hear her on the phone with Derek Henson.

"Derek, I'm home already. Don't be scared—I'll come keep you company again tonight."

Before long, she came out. When she saw me still sitting there, her expression flickered, and her tone softened slightly.

"Alex Dickerson, when Derek first got diagnosed, I told you—his parents died years ago. I'm the closest person he has in this world. Only I can ease his depression. You agreed back then that you'd help him too. So why now? Why are you suddenly unwilling? And why do you keep slandering my innocence?"

I sneered inwardly.

Before, when she went to help Derek, she'd just accompany him during the day—go for walks, help clear his head. But lately, even at night, no matter what we were doing, Smokey would run to Derek's place without hesitation. Even when we were in the middle of sex, she'd stop and leave.

When I didn't respond, her tone softened further.

"Aren't you just upset because Derek interrupted us last time? Over something that small, you want a divorce? Fine—I'll make it up to you now."

She leaned in and bit my earlobe.

I pushed her away.

Her face twisted with rage. "Alex Dickerson, I'm already lowering myself here. Don't push your luck!"

Looking at her, I almost laughed.

Every single time, she was the one in the wrong—yet she acted like I owed her something. Where did she get the nerve?

I let out a cold laugh. "Smokey Abbott, you said you didn't want to come home for the holidays. Yesterday, my parents traveled over a thousand miles to be here. I asked you ahead of time if you were free—and what did you do? We waited for you all night. What, did your Derek have a depression episode that lasted until morning too? Everyone knows what you did. Do you really need to keep using depression as an excuse? Don't you think it's pathetic?"

Her face flushed with anger, and she was about to snap back—but then Derek Henson called.

Her voice turned soft instantly. "Derek?"

"Smokey, I've been thinking it over, and I'm worried it'll affect your relationship with your husband. I want to explain things to him over the phone. Can you put it on speaker?"

Smokey nodded.

"Smokey's husband—Smokey and I did grow up together, but we're just ordinary friends. Don't worry. Nothing happened last night. Her clothes got messed up because she was kneeling for a long time trying to help stabilize my condition. Don't overthink it."

He started off explaining, but by the end, it was pure provocation.

I spoke coldly. "No need to be so vague. You two can take it a step further. But do you dare?"

Hearing that, Smokey snatched the phone and hung up.

"Alex Dickerson, are you sick in the head? Why are you threatening Derek? So what if he didn't spend New Year's with your parents? I'll go home with you in a few days and apologize—isn't that enough?!"

"If you scare Derek into doing something stupid, can you take responsibility?!"

I let out a cold laugh. "Whether he lives or dies is none of my damn business."

She was furious. "Derek called specifically to explain himself so you could feel at ease, and this is what you say about him? How did I never realize you were such a vile person?"

She slammed the door and left.

My heart was ice-cold. The version of myself who gave everything for her—he wasn't worth it at all.

The year I met Smokey, she was still working at a bar to help her father pay off debts. I was moved by the determination in her eyes. I couldn't help but get close to her, often leaving large tips to ease her pressure.

As time went on, she developed feelings for me too. She would unconsciously tell me about the difficulties at home.

Later, to deal with the debt collectors, her father actually sold her to those people.

She fled to me covered in injuries, eyes blurred with tears, begging me to save her.

I had long since decided to confess my feelings. So at that moment, I protected her without hesitation and took out all my savings to keep her safe.

On the day we got married, I gave her father two hundred thousand dollars and signed a severance agreement. From then on, Smokey had nothing to do with him.

Years later, in the business world, I met Derek.

Only then did I learn that he and Smokey were actually childhood sweethearts.

Since he hadn't shown up when she was at her lowest, I figured their feelings had faded to nothing. When he asked for her WeChat, I didn't think much of it.

But then Derek came looking for her, claiming he had depression—and only Smokey could help him.

I thought she would refuse. She didn't.

I told myself she was just being kind-hearted. Until a month ago, when I worked overtime and came home to an empty apartment.

I called her. "Where are you?"

She was panting. "Husband... is—is something up?"

"What are you doing?"

"My best friend, she... she insisted on dragging me to get a massage. Too... too many people here. Can't hear clearly. I'll call you back when I get home, okay?"

Before she hung up, I heard Derek's voice in the background.

I called back immediately. Video. Again and again.

No answer.

My heart was in chaos.

The next day, I checked every massage parlor in the city. None of them had any record of Smokey.

When I pressed her, she said they'd only registered under her friend's name. And yes, she'd brought Derek along—to help with his depression.

Because I cherished three years of marriage, I chose not to push further.

But I told her: in my marriage, betrayal was not allowed.

She swore up and down.

Days later, she escalated it even more. Eating, sleeping, whatever she was doing—her phone was always open to her chat with Derek. I saw the explicit messages.

Every time I asked, she grew more impatient than the last.

In the end, I gave up. Through a friend at a hotel, I got photos of the two of them together.

Smokey didn't come home for an entire day.

During that time, I saw Derek's social media post. In the photo, he and Smokey were walking hand in hand through luxury stores—as intimate as husband and wife.

I closed the app and contacted a company back in my hometown.

They'd contacted me a year ago, said they'd always keep an executive position open for me.

I only turned it down because Smokey didn't want to live with my parents.

Now that I'd reached out, they agreed immediately.

After that, I filed for a mandatory divorce and asked the staff to mail our marriage certificates separately—mine and Smokey's—five days from now.

By then, I'd already be gone. Even if she got angry, I had no interest in watching.

Smokey didn't message until evening.

In the past, whenever we fought, I'd give her two hours max to come around. Maybe she sensed how serious I was this time, because her tone was much softer.

"Honey, I took Derek to see a psychologist today. The doctor said his condition has improved a lot. One more month of treatment and he'll basically be recovered."

"Don't worry. Once Derek's better, he'll go back to his hometown. Then I'll settle down and live properly with you."

"I brought you a gift when I came back."

I didn't reply. Just turned off my phone.

Before, she still had some value worth salvaging.

But now?

Someone already tainted—I don't want anymore.

When Smokey came home, I was taking down the wedding photo from the wall.

Burning all of them.

Looking at this home I'd traded everything for, my eyes stung.

They say getting drunk helps you stop being sad.

But I'd been drinking all day, and I still couldn't shake the weight in my chest.

Seeing this, Smokey rushed over and stomped out the fire. She grabbed what remained of a photo, eyes red, and demanded:

"Alex, are you insane? Why are you burning our photos!"

I shoved her away. "The home's already gone—what's the point of keeping them!"

She stumbled back, and anger flashed across her face.

"Alex, I told you—Derek and I are just friends. Why do you keep trapping yourself in your own head!"

"The moment he's better, even if he doesn't say anything, I'll make him leave this city myself. You won't have to see him again!"

"It's just one more month. We've been married three years—don't you trust me at all? You can't even wait that long!"

"And I told you not to drink at home. Not only did you drink yourself into this state, you pushed me. I even brought you a gift!"

She hurled the gift box at me.

It didn't miss—hit me right on the forehead.

Blood ran down instantly, and the impact knocked me backward.

The back of my head cracked against the table's edge. More blood.

Her expression shifted to panic. She rushed over to help me up.

"Honey, are you okay? Don't scare me!"

In all my memory, this was the first time she'd shown this much concern.

But I didn't need it anymore.

I pushed her away.

"Don't touch me. You disgust me..."

This time, the anger on her face flickered and faded, replaced by worry. She called an ambulance.

"Hold on. They'll be here soon. I'll take you to the hospital."

But moments later, her phone rang.

Derek's wounded voice came through:

"Smokey, I just went downstairs to buy something and a dog chased me. My body won't stop shaking. I feel like I want to die. Where... where are you?"

Smokey's face tensed immediately.

"Derek, don't panic. Stay home. I'm coming right now!"

After hanging up, she looked at me. Her eyes were full of conflict.

In the end, she made her choice.

"Alex, I already called you an ambulance. When they get here, they'll take you to the hospital."