Thirteen Years of Marriage, Yet You Still Cheated

Before deciding to go abroad for further studies, Coleen opened her psychological counseling clinic—and welcomed a strange patient on her very first day.

A young woman in her twenties sat across from her, venting the grievances she had carried for years.

She spoke of graduating from a vocational school, dropping out to work, and even selling her body at high-end auctions to buy herself a ticket into the world of the rich and powerful.

Coleen listened quietly, offering gentle guidance as any good therapist would. But the woman only gave a cold, twisted smile.

"A woman like you, Doctor Vega—born with everything, who had a smooth life all along, could never understand me."

"I've been someone's mistress for three years before I finally owned a place of my own while you were born owning a whole building."

Coleen frowned. She wanted to explain, to say something—but before she could, footsteps sounded outside the door.

The girl glanced toward the noise, her eyes flickering with a strange light.

"He's here to pick me up," she said softly, almost like a declaration.

When Coleen turned toward the window, her heart lurched.

Standing outside was her husband of thirteen years, Bruce. He was holding a bouquet of vivid red roses.

The moment their eyes met, Bruce quickly masked his surprise, but Coleen caught the flicker of guilt behind his calm facade.

She couldn't help recalling the past—back when Bruce had first confessed to her. He hadn't brought roses, only a small bunch of bellflowers.

Back then, she had defied her parents and given up everything to marry him, sharing his poverty and his dreams.

Every time he came home to their cramped rented apartment, he'd bring her a handful of flowers picked by the roadside. His eyes, though bleary, always shone with wild light.

"Someday," he promised, "when I have money, I'll plant you an ocean of roses."

Now, the Sandoval Group was one of the biggest names in the industry.

She and Bruce were considered the perfect couple in society circles—yet she hadn't received flowers from him in years. Only the cold sparkle of jewelry and the sound of his late-night phone calls filled her life.

Coleen closed her eyes, fighting to stay composed as Bruce pushed open the door.

"It's time to go," he said, offering the bouquet. "I came to pick you up."

She didn't take it, and only said, "I don't recall telling you I opened a clinic."

The girl sitting opposite, her patient, Emily, rose from her chair with a faint smile.

"I told Mr. Sandoval," she said smoothly. "I'm his assistant."

Bruce and Emily exchanged a knowing glance—their silent understanding looked so natural it left Coleen feeling like an outsider in her own marriage.

Clenching her fist, she stared at the framed photo on her desk—their younger selves, smiling brightly.

For a moment, she wanted to smash it, to scream, to ask why. But in the end, she only said quietly, "Let's go home."

She was no longer the girl who once threw everything away for love. Her mother was gone, her father was bedridden, and every day the medical bills grew heavier. She was in her thirties now, and her career had just begun.

Bruce didn't argue. He simply placed the roses gently on her desk.

...

Coleen had poured nearly all her savings into opening this clinic. Yet in the morning, none of the promised media outlets had shown up.

Now, at closing time, the front door was swarmed with reporters—their cameras flashing like gunfire. Even the bodyguards couldn't keep them back.

"Mrs. Sandoval, as a woman who has never worked a day in her life, are you opening a clinic because the industry is so profitable?"

"Rumor has it you haven't practiced for over a decade—are you really qualified to treat patients?"

"Or should we assume you're using the mentally ill as a front for money laundering?"

Their questions came like bullets—sharp, and merciless.

Coleen turned her head slightly and saw Emily, smirking at her with provocation.

Several parents of patients began to shout angrily, shoving toward her.

The scene spiraled out of control.

Obviously, Bruce didn't expect something like this would happen. His face darkened as he spoke. "Coleen, don't worry. I'll get to the bottom of this."

He shielded her as they pushed through the chaos. Then a sharp cry suddenly sounded behind them.

"Ah—my foot!"

For a split second, Coleen felt Bruce's grip loosen.

When she looked back, she saw Emily crouched on the ground, tears pooling in her eyes. And without hesitation, Bruce immediately let her go to lift the other woman into his arms.

Coleen stood frozen, her blood turning to ice.

Someone threw a rotten egg; the liquid splattered against her clothes despite the bodyguards' efforts to protect her. By the time she stumbled into the car, she was trembling.

The driver glanced at her anxiously.

"Madam, should we go home or straight to the hospital?"

"The doctor called and said Mr. Vega's condition might have worsened."

"What?!" Coleen's lips quivered. "Go to the hospital now."

Outside, the city lights blurred past. Through the rain-streaked window, she saw Bruce holding Emily protectively, his movements gentle and intimate—as if they had shared years of hardship together.

Pain surged in her throat, choking her breath, until she reached her father's ward.

He lay motionless, tubes running across his frail body. Her knees gave out beneath her.

"Coleen..." he rasped. "Why are you alone? Where's Bruce?"

She opened her mouth but could only shake her head. Some truths only brought more sorrow. She was no longer a little girl who could run into her parents' arms for comfort.

"He's busy," she murmured.

Her father smiled weakly. "That's fine. Don't blame him. I heard from Martin that you're planning to study abroad again?"

Coleen hesitated, then nodded.

"Good. That's good." His eyes brightened. "Don't worry about me. I've lived enough. I just want you and Bruce to be happy."

Letting out a sigh, he continued, "I stopped him from marrying you back then because I was afraid you'd suffer. Don't hold it against me. If you have time... tell him I'm sorry."

The nurses came in soon after, reminding her visiting hours were over.

Coleen wiped her tears and stepped out. Just then, her phone buzzed. It was her old professor.

[Coleen, time's almost up. Have you decided?]

Years ago, she'd given up her chance to study abroad to stay with Bruce—only to live in lies and betrayal. But now, after thirteen years, fate had offered her a second chance.

Her fingers trembled as she typed her reply. [Yes.]

The response came almost instantly. [Great! Pack your things. We'll fly to Australia in three days.]