The day I discovered Leones Edwards was cheating, I was in the middle of bathing our five-month-old daughter, Chloe Edwards.

My phone, which I had left in the bedroom, was ringing incessantly. I hurried to answer it, but when I saw an unfamiliar number, I hesitated. Just then, Chloe began to cry, so I hung up and rushed back to the bathroom.

When I returned, the call had ended, and a text message was waiting for me.

Holding Chloe in my arms, I opened the message and nearly dropped her.

My hands were shaking as I looked at my phone.

Dozens of explicit photos were displayed in the message.

The man in each photo was the same, but the women were different: college students, married women—every type imaginable.

Overwhelmed by a surge of panic and dizziness, I grabbed a chair to steady myself.

I could hardly believe that the person I trusted was capable of such filth.

The pain was so intense I could barely breathe.

Just then, my phone lit up again. I jumped and answered quickly before the call could ring through.

"Hello, Ms. Edwards. You saw those photos, didn't you?" a woman's voice chirped from the other end.

Her voice was sweet and almost melodic, reminiscent of a nightingale.

I tried to keep my composure, aiming to come across as a calm, unshakeable person.

But her next words broke me.

"Ms. Edwards, I have HPV. Your husband is the source of the infection."

The shock was like an explosion in my brain.

HPV? My husband has HPV and has spread it to others?

I didn't have time to dwell on the specifics of her relationship with my husband.

My mind was consumed with thoughts of my two children.

How long has Leones had HPV? And could Chloe and Victor be affected, too?

The terrifying possibility made my head spin once more.

I fought to hold back tears and asked, "How long has Leones had HPV? How long have you two been seeing each other?"

There was a pause before she replied, "I met your husband last Valentine's Day. The doctor says I've been infected for about a year and a half. It's all your husband's fault!

"Oh, and Ms. Edwards, you should take your kids for a checkup right away!"

I didn't respond, ending the call and sinking onto the sofa in shock.

Chloe's cries brought me back to reality. I wiped my tears and hurried to her side.

After a quick check, I changed her diaper and dressed her.

But as I was fastening her pants, I noticed a small, raised red spot on her inner thigh.

At that moment, I lost it.

I stuffed baby supplies into a bag, grabbed the diaper bag, and rushed to the underground garage with Chloe in my arms.

I sped to the hospital, driving recklessly, losing track of how many patrol cars I passed.

The doctor was shocked when I requested an HPV test for a five-month-old baby. She looked at me with a mix of suspicion and pity, clearly thinking I led a chaotic life.

I tried to explain as best I could, and after hearing my story, her eyes softened with sympathy.

She offered us a VIP fast-track service to expedite the test results.

In the waiting area, I paced anxiously with Chloe in my arms, walking countless laps.

Then, three uniformed police officers arrived.

I knew they were here for me.

After I finished explaining my situation, the officers were deeply sympathetic, but the law was unforgiving, and I had to go with them.

However, they allowed me to see the results of Chloe's tests before heading to the police station.

With the officers accompanying me, my anxiety eased somewhat.

Soon, the test results came back, and the report showed Chloe was negative.

Chloe was fine, and there was a very good chance Victor was too.

Since they were twins, if one was clear, the other was likely in the clear as well.

My heart immediately relaxed, and the heavy burden was lifted. Before I could even dry my tears, another test result was handed to me.

[HPV Test

Name: Rebecca Watz

Result: Positive]

At that moment, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

I struggled to contain the turmoil inside me as I followed the officers back to the station.

By the time everything was sorted out, the sun was setting.

Naturally, my car was impounded, so I took a taxi home with Chloe.

The ten-minute ride felt like an eternity as I checked my phone obsessively.

No new messages came.

When I got home, a pair of black leather shoes lay askew by the entryway.

I instinctively straightened them.

The clinking and clanking sounds from the kitchen guided me towards it.

I quickly took Chloe to her nursery, changed my clothes, and headed into the kitchen.

There, Leones' suit was draped carelessly over a chair. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and a pink scarf—completely out of character for him—was draped around his neck.

Despite his busy schedule, he always managed to take care of things at home.

Even when he was swamped with work, he'd bring home my favorite snacks or share a couple of cold beers with me after the kids went to bed.

Even now, he was making dinner.

"Hey, honey, I made your favorite black pepper pasta. Come try it," he called out, waving a steaming plate of pasta in front of me.

In a daze, I barely registered the sight of him holding the dish.

The person and the food I once cherished felt utterly tasteless now, even somewhat nauseating.

I used a stomachache as an excuse to decline his pasta and his attempts at closeness.

My refusal seemed to hit him hard; he clearly sensed something was wrong.

Leones leaned into me, his voice filled with concern. "Sis, did I do something wrong?"

Leones had always called me "Sis" since we were kids. When he was bullied at age ten, I stood up for him bravely and protected him. Back then, he'd patted my head and gently told me, "You're younger than me, so you should stand behind me."

I didn't step back; instead, I stubbornly replied, "If you call me 'Sis,' I can protect you too."

That day, we were pushed to the ground by older kids, and he shielded me with his own body. Ever since, he'd called me "Sis" instead of my name.

I sighed and pushed him away gently, stepping into the bedroom and locking the door.

He banged on the door loudly.

"Rebecca, what's wrong?

"Just tell me if you're upset with me.

"If I did something wrong, you need to let me know!

"You're shutting me out without giving me a chance to explain!"

His persistent knocking made my head pound. I shot off a text message, sent a lump of our earlier conversation, and hit send.

The phone confirmed the message was sent, and the knocking stopped. After a few minutes of silence, Leones' voice drifted through the door.

"So, are you planning to divorce me?"

Even though I had entertained the thought, hearing the word "divorce" made my heart ache more than I expected.

Do I really want a divorce? The thought circled in my mind.

Leones continued to apologize from the other side of the door for the next half hour while I waited in silence.

Finally, at precisely nine o'clock, the noise ceased.

I opened the door to find Leones squatting on the floor, crying softly.

When he saw me, he looked up with tear-streaked eyes and said, "Sis, I'm sorry. Let's not get a divorce, okay? I promise I'll be better."

His eyes were red, and he looked at me with a pleading expression, like a lost puppy.

I frowned, my heart aching even more than when I discovered his affair.

Yes, I couldn't bear to see him suffer, which was why, when we were ten, I had thrown myself in front of him to protect him.

"Don't leave me, Sis—"

Leones knelt and clung to me, burying his head deeply in my embrace, his sobs uncontrollable.

Standing at six feet tall, he barely reached my chest while kneeling, crying, and calling out, "Sis."

If this were the past, I would have softened at the sight of him, but now, all I felt was disgust.

I pushed him away roughly and walked to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of ice water, then sat down.

He slumped in his chair, sulking, still murmuring about not getting a divorce.

I neither agreed nor refused but turned the question back on him. "Tell me, after all these years of marriage, how many women have you slept with?"

Leones was speechless.

"See? You can't even count them. How dare you ask me not to get a divorce?"

His face turned pale, his eyes filled with regret. But what did that change?

I pressed my lips and looked at him with contempt. "Leones, you're disgusting!"

"Rebecca!" he protested, his face darkening with anger before quickly being replaced by a look of regret.

He stammered, finally lowering his head and weeping silently.

Even then, I wasn't done with him.

I lifted my shirt, exposing my scarred, sagging belly.

Two gruesome surgical scars snaked across my abdomen, horrifying to look at.

I pointed to them and said, "Other women get maybe one scar from childbirth. I bore two, and this is how you repay me?"

Leones' eyes filled with anguish.

He reached out to touch me, but I pulled away, tears welling up.

"I followed you from the moment I graduated college. We worked ourselves to the bone to get to where we are now. Your company is thriving, our life is settling down, and yet you…"

I choked up, trying to steady my emotions. "I used to hear that men change once they have money. I didn't believe it. I thought you were different, Leones. But it turns out… you're just the same.

"Leones, you've really let me down."

With that, I turned and went back to the bedroom, picked up Chloe, grabbed my suitcase, and headed straight to my parents' house.

By the time Leones came running after me, I was already in a taxi with Chloe.

He didn't pursue us like in the movies because, just then, his phone rang.

In the rearview mirror, I saw him kneeling again, staring at the taxi as it drove away.

It seemed he had finally realized that I had contracted HPV from him.