The first time I noticed something was off was when I smelled an unfamiliar body wash scent on her. We always use the same brand and fragrance at home. So that day when she came home and leaned in to kiss me, I immediately sensed something wasn’t right. “Did you shower somewhere else today?” I asked casually. “A bird pooped on my head. I didn’t want to stink up the house, so I showered at school before coming home,” she replied smoothly. I smiled and let my gaze drift quickly over her face. She was too calm. So I joked, “Good thing it didn’t happen back in our hometown. There, you’d have to collect rice from a hundred families to make a ‘hundred family meal’ to ward off the bad luck.” That evening, before my shower, I pulled out the clothes she had tossed in the washing machine. I sniffed them carefully but couldn’t detect any scent other than body wash. How could a woman go from morning to night, interacting with so many people, without picking up any traces of perfume, sweat or food smells? I examined her clothes meticulously. The average adult woman sheds about 50 hairs a day, mostly on the back. But this shirt didn’t have a single hair on it! It was as clean as if she had just put it on before coming home. That night, Olivia was especially affectionate, clinging to me and initiating intimacy. I felt nauseous the whole time. I have mild germaphobia, and even though there was still uncertainty, the whole process felt like swallowing a dead fly. “Honey, you don’t seem very into it tonight,” Olivia curled up in my arms afterwards. “Did you hear something upsetting during a therapy session again?”
I’m a hypnotherapist. Many people think we’re like clear mountain springs – tranquil and pure. In reality, we deal with people’s psychological issues every day. As they say, ‘When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back.’ The monsters in our clients’ minds often project onto us, creating new monsters within ourselves. Most of the time we can self-regulate. When we can’t, we turn to colleagues for help. “It was a case of chronic infidelity,” I made up a story. “The wife is notoriously promiscuous. She used to cheat discreetly, but after her husband found out, she started brazenly bringing men home.” “The husband, my client, loves his wife deeply and doesn’t want a divorce. He’s suffering terribly.” I rolled over with a frown. “Why are you women so unfaithful?” “That’s totally unfair! You can’t lump all women together like that,” Olivia pinched my waist playfully. “Not all women are unfaithful. It depends on their moral standards.” “Some women have no moral bottom line and sleep around. Others, like your wife, have very high standards. I’m your first and I’ll be your last, for life.” I couldn’t detect anything amiss from her micro-expressions. But that was normal. It would be abnormal if I could. As an associate professor of mathematics, she’s far more intelligent than me.
Olivia and I met in college. We both did our bachelor’s and master’s degrees consecutively – me in psychology, her in math. Everyone said we were a power couple when we started dating, a collision of two rational minds. We got married right after finishing our master’s degrees, to no one’s surprise. She became a lecturer at the university, teaching undergrads while pursuing her PhD. With my advisor’s support and my parents’ financial help, I opened my own psychological counseling practice. I majored in applied psychology, with hypnotherapy as my specialty. Psychology got a late start in the US. In the early days, people were more skeptical than accepting of psychology, let alone hypnosis. They thought the whole field was a scam. My practice struggled at first, but slowly improved. After successfully handling a few big cases, I gained some renown in the industry.
Fame may seem intangible, but it brings very real benefits. The revenue of my practice skyrocketed. There’s a saying: “A man’s confidence and status come from money.” Because I was earning more, my position at home also rose. I felt more secure and was almost certain Olivia wouldn’t cheat. But reality slapped me hard in the face… The day after I first noticed something off, I picked her up from work and hugged her as usual. The seed of doubt had been planted in my mind about her clothes. Seeing her suspiciously clean outfit again, I slipped a lighter into her coat pocket without hesitation. Then I pretended nothing had happened and cheerfully took her out to dinner. During the meal, she went to the bathroom once for a full ten minutes. When she came back, she looked uneasy. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Nothing, just some work stuff,” she replied. “Do you need to go back to campus?” “No, I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” We were both putting on an act – me playing the clueless husband, her selling the ‘stressed about work’ story. When we got home, she took off her coat and grabbed her phone to shower. I felt in her coat pocket – the lighter was gone. Classic guilty behavior. I tiptoed to the bathroom door. First I heard the ‘ding’ of an incoming SnapChat message, then her lowered voice, sounding annoyed: “Who else would it be? No need to explain! … I’m at home, we’ll talk tomorrow!” My heart sank. Before we got married, we had both expressed the same view: “Zero tolerance for cheating, no compromises.” I backed away, poured myself a drink, and sat on the couch pondering my next move… We don’t have kids, so divorce would only involve dividing assets. Apart from our fixed assets – house, car, collectibles and savings – Olivia manages all our joint finances. She handles the stocks, funds and insurance policies. All the linked bank cards are with her. I hardly ever ask about it… “Honey, what made you decide to have a drink tonight?” Olivia came out of the bathroom, toweling her hair. “Just to set the mood,” I raised my glass in her direction, with a hint of invitation. “I saw you go straight to shower when you got home, so I thought you… Or am I wrong?” “You’re right,” she straddled my lap and kissed me, arms around my neck. Two people with zero interest, both pretending to be in the mood. I still felt sick to my stomach, like I’d swallowed a dead fly, but I kept reminding myself: “Don’t let her realize I know.” I’ve seen many divorces. No matter how passionate the couple once was, few remain civil when it comes to dividing assets. Most turn ugly. I didn’t want to see her ugly side, nor did I want her to see mine. So the best approach was to “elegantly calculate everything in advance.” I’m a selfish person. I don’t want years of hard work to benefit someone else.
The next day, I did two things. First, “I went to a law firm and hired a lawyer to advise me on next steps.” The lawyer first affirmed my actions from the night before – don’t confront her yet. Get everything prepared before showing your hand. You want to catch her off guard. He was slightly concerned about the lighter: “You were a bit rash there. Given your wife’s intelligence, she’ll quickly suspect you planted it.” I replied, “She has no proof. I bought that lighter recently when getting cigarettes. It’s not my usual brand.” The lawyer told me to be careful not to slip up, then recommended “three steps plus one additional suggestion.” “Step 1: Collect evidence of her infidelity.” “Step 2: Apply to the court for asset protection based on the evidence.” I don’t need to compile a detailed list of assets. Just provide leads on the assets and apply for court protection. The court can then take protective measures. “Step 3: File for divorce, request dissolution of the marriage. The judge will determine how to divide marital assets based on the evidence.” Additional suggestion: “If Olivia purchased any high-value items for her lover during the marriage, like a house or car, that’s considered misappropriation of marital assets. I can legally reclaim those.” “The second thing I did was hire a private investigator to gather evidence of Olivia’s affair.” This person is technically called a ‘private investigator’, though less politely they’re known as ‘paparazzi’. They often help dig up celebrity gossip too. My requirements were: “A. I want to know who the other man is and how long it’s been going on.” “B. Dating photos that prove their relationship, like kissing or entering a hotel.” “C. I want to know if Olivia has given him any expensive gifts, like a house or car.” The PI readily agreed, though his fee wasn’t cheap.
The PI’s efficiency puts soap opera plot lines to shame. Those TV wives who spend ages trying to catch cheating husbands should just hire a PI without hesitation. Just four days after I hired him, the PI had already identified the other man. Someone familiar. His name is Jake. A golden boy who made it out of his small town. During college, he interned at my practice as a senior. After graduating, he worked for me for another six months. I even wrote him a recommendation letter for his current job… Who would have thought? Talk about biting the hand that feeds you! I almost laughed out loud. Two weeks ago at an industry gathering, he clinked glasses with me and casually asked how I’d handle it if my wife cheated. I thought it was an odd question at the time. Turns out it was his subtle way of declaring war. I’m sure Olivia sensed his intentions too. That’s why when I put the lighter in her pocket, she never suspected me. “When did they start?” I asked the PI. “Not sure yet, but they’ve been living together for 2 years. Here’s their address…” I looked at the address on the notepad. It was an apartment complex not far from the university, also close to Jake’s workplace. Convenient for both of them. “Did they buy or rent?” “Bought. In Jake’s name.” I didn’t need to ask who paid for it. Jake only has a bachelor’s degree and has been working less than 5 years. He’s not well-known in the field yet, with a monthly salary of just over $1000. Back in his hometown, the whole village would be eager to help out their college graduate. Plus he has a good-for-nothing brother who always needs support… But that apartment complex, even at prices from 3 years ago, would cost at least $200,000 for 800 square feet! I sighed. Olivia is usually so frugal, she won’t even buy me a $1000 watch. But for her lover, she easily shells out over $200,000 for an apartment! “Don’t be too heartbroken, man!” the PI consoled me. “Women are like that, thinking with their lower half.” “That guy isn’t as good-looking as you, and his vibe is way off. Your wife just got bored and wanted some excitement.” I smiled wryly.
Olivia’s choice of Jake was partly about “boredom and excitement”, but more about psychological needs. They both grew up in small towns, fighting their way to the big city. There’s a sense of kindred spirits there. Olivia sees a bit of herself in Jake. Olivia and I come from very different backgrounds. As she puts it, she struggled for 20 years just to have the chance to drink coffee with me at Starbucks. Between us, even though she now has high social status, there’s still deep-rooted insecurity. Whenever we go somewhere fancy, she can’t help but feel nervous, always observing others first. But with Jake, given her absolute advantage in economic and social status, she must feel much more relaxed and empowered. Plus, in their hometown there’s a backwards notion that a woman’s success isn’t just about how much she earns or achieves, but how many men she can attract. We discussed this topic back in college. Olivia vehemently criticized that view. Unfortunately, ideas ingrained over many years become part of one’s core. They can’t be easily erased just by adopting the right values. As for Jake, I won’t speculate on whether he truly loves Olivia. In the adult world, relationships are often just about mutual benefit. When Jake interned with me years ago, he repeatedly expressed envy of my background, career and marriage. So from my perspective, by being with Olivia, he gains material support. Emotionally, he probably feels like he’s finally surpassed me in something. “Here are their photos, boss. This is all we’ve got so far,” the PI handed me several pictures. “Do you want to go to court now, or wait a few more days?” I looked at the photos of them coming and going together, feeling conflicted. Past vows of eternal love, no match for the passage of time. “Christmas is in a couple days,” the PI glanced at my expression cautiously. “Maybe you want to think it over some more?” “In my line of work, you see a lot of dirty business,” the PI said. “To be honest, women who never stray in their whole lives are pretty rare.” For a moment I wavered, but finally just said, “Keep a close eye on them for me.”
Christmas came quickly. Olivia showed up at my office with a huge bouquet of red roses, which was highly unusual for her. The young staff at the office teased us as usual, giving envious looks, posting in the work SnapChat group about being “fed dog food” (seeing a sickeningly sweet couple)… I left work early, browsed the mall a bit, bought a pair of shoes and a necklace for her. Then we went for a Western dinner. I actually cherished the whole process, knowing it might be our last holiday together. But unexpectedly, halfway through dinner, Olivia got a call saying she had to leave. She said her coworker had a fight with her boyfriend. They got into a physical altercation on the street and were now at the hospital. The police were taking statements. She had to go check on them. I know most of Olivia’s close coworkers who would call her for something like this. I picked up my coat and said “I’ll come with you”, but Olivia stopped me. She told me to enjoy my meal, saying the people involved didn’t want too many others to know. She promised to call me after playing peacemaker. I understood immediately, reminded of those palace dramas on TV! The favored concubines always like to flaunt their status in front of the empress, not knowing how they’ll end up dead. “Alright, you go ahead,” I sat back down. “I’ll finish dinner and then hang out at a bar for a bit.” Olivia smiled at me, leaned down to cup my face, and touched her forehead to mine affectionately. “Don’t flirt with any floozies,” she said in her usual doting tone. I made a sound of agreement. Keeping up the act, I teased back, “You never know! Better hurry back if you’re gonna be jealous.” Olivia pinched my nose and turned to leave. Watching her walk away, I called the PI: “Where are you? Olivia just left.” The PI said he was tailing Jake, then gave me an address. From our restaurant to Jake’s location, even with Christmas traffic, should take about 40 minutes by car. But an hour passed. The PI messaged that Olivia still hadn’t arrived. I almost thought Olivia had a fourth lover on the side. Or maybe a coworker really did end up in the hospital. But 20 minutes later, the PI said Olivia had arrived…
That night, I met some friends at a bar. Surrounded by the noisy crowd, all I could picture was those two in bed together. I got home at midnight. Olivia wasn’t back yet. I went into the study and reached for the computer. Before I even touched it, I knew why Olivia had taken twice as long to reach Jake after leaving the restaurant. She’d come home first. Someone had used my computer. Everyone has their own computer habits. My left and right eyes have different degrees of nearsightedness, plus my right eye has astigmatism. So I keep the computer slightly tilted on the desk. Olivia knows this house too well. So well that she forgot to pay attention to these details. The computer use history had been cleared. Apart from some cutting-edge academic materials, the most important thing on my computer was the paper I was currently writing. Something Jake could directly use. Once published in an academic journal, the paper would boost my industry ranking. I don’t want to assume the worst intentions from Olivia and Jake, but I have to prepare for the worst case scenario. Although I only started writing that paper recently, I had been preparing for three years, analyzing thousands of cases and investing huge amounts of time and energy. [Stealing my academic work is even more despicable than stealing my woman!]
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