## When I was hospitalized with a sudden illness, my wife, Clara, was speeding to the airport to pick up the man she’d always loved—her old flame, Adam. She drank with him, fought for him, and threw away every shred of reason for him. She forgot our anniversary, hid the abortion of our child from me, and didn’t even visit me when I was critically injured in a car accident. In the end, I died on the operating table, my heart cold and empty. And when she finally pieced everything together, the guilt drove her to the brink of madness. Clara and I had been married for five years, but her work always came first. Our time together had been fleeting, barely enough to fill a handful of memories. This year, I thought we’d finally turned a corner. She’d said to me, “Benjamin, let’s start over.” That night, I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. I believed we’d finally grow old together, living a life of love and happiness. But it didn’t last. One event brought everything crashing down again. Yesterday, I was rushed to the hospital with acute appendicitis. It was an emergency, and I needed immediate surgery. I called Clara—again and again—but she didn’t pick up. Lying on the hospital bed, staring at the sterile white ceiling, I felt a hollow ache in my chest. Clara had been distant for weeks. She’d become increasingly elusive, ignoring my calls and leaving my texts unanswered. I scrolled through our chat history on my phone. The screen was filled with green bubbles—messages from me, all unanswered. The last message I’d sent her was yesterday evening: “Babe, I’m at the hospital. The doctor says I need surgery for acute appendicitis. Can you come be with me?” She never replied. Maybe she was busy, I thought. Maybe she hadn’t seen it yet. Clinging to the faint hope that she’d respond, I sent another message: “Don’t worry, the surgery is done. I’m fine now.” After hitting send, a notification popped up: a friend request from someone I didn’t know. But just from the profile picture, I knew exactly who it was. Adam. The man my wife had spent years chasing. Her so-called “one that got away.” I didn’t know why he was adding me in the middle of the night, but I accepted the request anyway. He didn’t say anything. Curious, I clicked into his profile and started scrolling through his posts. One post in particular caught my attention. “Someone who loves you will cross mountains and oceans just to be by your side.” The photo attached to the post? A woman’s silhouette, standing in an airport terminal. That silhouette was unmistakable—it was Clara. My wife. The post was timestamped 10 p.m. last night. Ten minutes after I’d sent her that message from the hospital. That was the exact moment I was being wheeled into surgery. It suddenly became clear why Adam had added me.
Before seeing that post, I had been making excuses for Clara. She was busy. She was stressed. Maybe she was at work, stuck in a meeting, or networking over drinks. I’d convinced myself that she just didn’t have time to check her phone. But Adam’s post shattered all of those excuses. No wonder she didn’t answer my calls or reply to my messages. She wasn’t too busy—she was with him. She’d dropped everything to be by his side. I felt like a fool. My grip on the phone tightened, my knuckles turning white. My vision blurred as I stared at her number on my screen, debating whether to call her. But in the end, I couldn’t do it. Pathetic. I didn’t even have the courage to confront her. Lying alone on the hospital bed, I found myself scrolling through Adam’s profile again, masochistically digging deeper. Unlike Clara’s profile, which was empty and pristine, Adam’s was full of life. He posted constantly—snapshots of his day, his thoughts on life. And at the end of every post, there was always a small snowflake emoji. It was subtle, but I knew what it meant. That snowflake—Clara. He never mentioned her by name, but she was everywhere. Every post was about her. No wonder Clara checked his profile religiously. Every time she read his posts, her mood would visibly brighten. And when I’d try to peek over her shoulder, curious, she’d immediately lock her phone and glare. “Don’t invade my privacy,” she’d snapped. I’d backed off, not wanting to upset her further. But one of Adam’s posts caught my attention. It was an announcement: He was getting married. He was moving abroad to start his new life. That was the same day Clara had told me, “Benjamin, let’s start over.”
Adam was Clara’s college classmate, the man she had loved but could never have—the one who got away. Back in school, Clara devoted herself to him completely. She was always by his side, running errands, doing whatever he asked without hesitation. A single offhanded comment from Adam could send her across half of Riverview City just to pick up his favorite breakfast. Adam majored in a different field than Clara, so what did she do? She switched majors. Adam liked nightlife, so she learned how to drink and smoke to fit into his world. Anything Adam liked, Clara would pursue it relentlessly, no matter the cost. Everyone in college knew how deeply Clara loved him. But in the end, they didn’t end up together. During Adam’s senior year, he announced he’d applied to study abroad. When Clara found out, she chased after him all the way to the airport. I don’t know what Adam said to her that day, but whatever it was, it broke her. She fell into a deep depression for months. I stayed by her side the whole time, quietly supporting her. Not long after graduation, to my surprise, Clara agreed to marry me. Even on the day of our wedding, I couldn’t believe it was real. It wasn’t until I slipped the ring onto her finger that it hit me—this wasn’t a dream. Overcome with emotion, I grabbed her hand and cried like a child. I had finally married the woman I’d loved for so many years. No one knew how much Clara loved Adam. And no one knew that my love for her was just as deep—if not deeper. I’d loved her for years, long before Adam ever entered the picture. Even when people mocked me, calling me a pathetic doormat who worshipped her, I didn’t care. Clara was my exception, my one and only. As long as I could be with her, I was content. But now… I’m starting to realize that maybe I don’t love her as much as I thought I did.
The doctor came in for his rounds and frowned when he saw I was alone. He sternly reminded me that I needed someone to look after me. My parents had passed away a couple of years ago. Clara was the only family I had left. I called her again. This time, it didn’t go straight to voicemail—it was turned off. I laughed bitterly to myself. What was I expecting? Adam was back. Of course, she wasn’t going to care about me. So, I called my childhood friend, Ryan. He showed up not long after, bursting through the door of my hospital room. “Benjamin, what the hell happened to you?” Ryan exclaimed, looking me over with wide eyes. “You look awful!” It had only been one sleepless night, but I must’ve looked so haggard that even Ryan, who’d known me forever, barely recognized me. “Where’s Clara?” Ryan asked, his voice sharp with anger. “You had surgery, and she’s not even here? What kind of wife does that?” He ranted on, furious on my behalf, but his words only made me sink deeper into thought. Maybe this was my fault. Maybe it was my unconditional love and patience that gave Clara the freedom to hurt me so carelessly. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Adam’s back,” I said quietly. Ryan’s face darkened. “That bastard actually came back?” “This time,” I said, my voice calm, “I think I’m going to divorce her.” Ryan froze mid-motion, the apple he’d been peeling dropping onto the table. He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated, his face shifting through a mix of emotions. Finally, all he managed was, “Just… take care of yourself, man.” Truthfully, I’d already made peace with it. I’d always known Clara never truly let go of Adam. There was one time, a year into our marriage, Clara had gone out with friends and forgotten to bring a jacket. Worried she’d get cold, I rushed out to bring it to her. When I arrived at the restaurant, I overheard one of her friends teasing her: “You’re married to Benjamin now, but you’re still thinking about Adam?” Clara’s voice was calm, almost indifferent. “It’s different. Adam will always be special to me. I can’t forget him. Benjamin… he’s just my second choice.” I stood frozen outside the door, her words stabbing through me like ice. I was wearing a heavy coat, but in that moment, I felt cold to my core. From that day on, I understood. I would never compare to Adam.
When I was discharged and went home, I discovered something that shouldn’t have surprised me: Clara hadn’t been home at all while I was in the hospital. The house was eerily quiet. Dust had gathered on the furniture, a thin layer that made the emptiness feel even heavier. I imagined how happy she must’ve been these past few days, free of me and my burdens. I unlocked my phone and opened Adam’s social media profile again. The most recent post was a video. Dim lighting. Thumping bass. A crowded dance floor filled with bodies moving to the beat. In the center of it all was Clara, pressed tightly against Adam. The two of them moved in perfect rhythm, their bodies so close they seemed inseparable. As the song ended, Adam wrapped his arm around Clara’s waist, pulling her even closer. She tilted her head up, her eyes half-lidded, filled with an intoxicating mix of desire and devotion. And then, he kissed her. The kind of kiss that spoke of possession, of claiming. They stood there in the middle of the dance floor, locked together, oblivious to the world around them. The video cut off abruptly after that. I scrolled further, finding more posts I hadn’t seen before—all of them featuring Clara and Adam together. Dancing at clubs. Drinking and laughing at a barbecue joint. Racing motorcycles late at night. It was like they were reliving their college days, indulging in all the reckless things they used to love. Meanwhile, I’d been lying in a hospital bed, alone. The absurdity of it all hit me like a punch to the gut. Clara was my wife. And yet, the only way I could keep track of her was through another man’s social media. 6
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