“Darling, look! A symbol of our love!” My wife, Stella, blushing prettily, lifted her wrist at the alumni gathering, revealing the expensive couple’s watch. Everyone looked at me with envy, saying I’d married the perfect woman. But they didn’t know. Just the night before, on our wedding night, I’d seen a faded butterfly tattoo on the inner side of her pale thigh. And a string of blurred numbers. Those numbers were the employee ID for a notorious bar: “The Golden Cage.” “Liam, you must’ve won the lottery in a past life to snag a bombshell like Stella Reed!” My childhood best friend, Chris, slurred, his arm slung around my neck, reeking of alcohol. “The queen of our college, man! So many guys chased her, and you’re the one who got lucky!” I laughed, pushing him away, and raised my glass. My gaze, however, drifted uncontrollably towards Stella, who was chatting and laughing with some female classmates not far away. She was wearing a pale yellow dress, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. When she smiled, her eyes crinkled into sweet crescents, making her look gentle and pure, like a blooming lily. Every man in the room had their eyes glued to her. And this beautiful woman was now my wife. A tremendous sense of satisfaction and happiness swelled within me. I downed the wine in one gulp. The spicy liquid slid down my throat, but my heart felt sweeter than honey. After the gathering, I helped a tipsy Stella back to our freshly decorated new home. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes hazy. Leaning against me, she mumbled drunkenly, “Husband, I love you so much… Marrying you is the happiest thing that’s ever happened to me.” My heart instantly melted. Gently placing her on the bed, I kissed her forehead and softly said, “Me too.” Just as I was about to get up to pour her a glass of water, her long dress hitched up as she shifted, revealing a stretch of snowy white thigh. And, on its inner side, that stark, greenish mark. My movements froze. It was a butterfly, its wings already somewhat blurred, its color severely faded, clearly an old tattoo from many years ago. Below the butterfly, there was an even smaller, almost illegible string of numbers. I leaned closer, squinting in the dim bedside lamp light to make it out carefully. “…7013?” The number exploded in my mind like a clap of thunder. My blood rushed to my head instantly, then turned to ice the next second. The Golden Cage. Number 7013. The code name I thought I’d never remember again, like a lurking demon that had slumbered for years, clawed its way out of the depths of my memory, a wicked grin on its face. Five years ago, while still in college, I’d worked as a part-time waiter at “The Golden Cage” to save up for my sick mother’s surgery. It was a hell on earth, a place of lavish decadence and rampant vice. I’d witnessed countless sordid transactions with my own eyes and remembered the numb smiles on those girls’ faces. Every girl “working” there had an internal number, making it easy for clients to “order” them. They were like products on a shelf, openly priced. And I had a particularly strong impression of “7013.” Because she had the most clients. She was rumored to be the top girl there, code-named “Butterfly.” This was because she excelled at a provocative “butterfly dance” and knew best how to please men. Whenever those bloated, wealthy clients spoke of her, they’d exchange knowing, lewd smiles, saying she was “innocent yet utterly seductive,” the most irresistible poison for any man. I was just a poor student back then, barely daring to even glance in her direction. I’d only glimpsed her back once when the manager sent me to a VIP room to deliver drinks. She wore a revealing dancer’s outfit, her slender waist swaying under the hazy lights, like a butterfly on the verge of shattering. At the time, I only felt pity and sadness, quickly dropping off the drinks and leaving. I just couldn’t reconcile that image of a woman of the night with the pure, gentle wife sleeping peacefully beside me. No, absolutely not! Stella Reed was a junior from my college. We met at a campus job fair. She was pure, kind, and came from a well-to-do family—both her parents were university professors, so she’d been pampered like a princess her whole life. We dated for two years, and she was always very conservative; our most intimate gesture was just kissing. She said she wanted to save her best self for our wedding night. How could such a virtuous girl… how could she be that escort, number 7013? It had to be a coincidence! Yes, just a damn coincidence! I repeated it to myself over and over, trying to quell the rising tide of panic and disgust that threatened to consume me. I stumbled back two steps, my body icy cold, my hands and feet trembling uncontrollably. I stared intently at Stella on the bed, the woman I deeply loved. Her sleeping face was serene and beautiful, a sweet smile still gracing her lips, as if she were dreaming pleasant dreams. But that glaring butterfly on her inner thigh was like a giant mockery, instantly shattering all my happiness. My stomach churned violently. I rushed to the bathroom, throwing up everything until there was nothing left but bitter bile. I clung to the wall, trying to stand. The man in the mirror was pale, eyes bloodshot, looking utterly wretched, like a beaten dog. I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face repeatedly, trying to calm myself down. No, I couldn’t jump to conclusions just yet. Maybe… maybe there was some misunderstanding. I needed proof, proof that could completely convince myself. My gaze fell on Stella’s handbag, placed on her dresser. A crazy thought, completely out of my control, surfaced.
My rational mind screamed at me, telling me this was despicable, a complete violation of trust. But my body, as if possessed by a demon, moved on its own. My hand trembled violently, almost unable to hold the delicate ladies’ handbag. I unzipped it. Inside were a wallet, lipstick, keys… and a very old-looking cell phone. It wasn’t her current, latest iPhone model, but an old Android phone, at least five or six years old, with several cracks on the screen. My heart constricted sharply. Why would she carry such an old phone with her? My trembling fingers pressed the power button. The screen lit up; there was no password. The photo album was empty, nothing at all. Refusing to give up, I clicked on file management. In a folder named “Recycle Bin,” I saw several deleted photos. My fingertip hovered above the screen, hesitating to tap. I was afraid. Afraid of seeing the truth that would utterly destroy me. But in the end, I restored them. The photos loaded one by one. The images were a bit blurry, the lighting dim, the background appearing to be a luxuriously decorated karaoke room. In the first photo, a scantily clad girl was holding a wine glass, smiling at the camera. Her smile was alluring and sultry, completely unlike the Stella Reed I knew. But that face, the face I’d loved for two years, kissed countless times—I couldn’t possibly mistake it! My breath caught in my throat. The second photo: she was hugging a pot-bellied middle-aged man, his hand on her thigh, and she was laughing flirtatiously. The third: she was kneeling on the floor, pouring wine for a man, the low-cut neckline of her dance outfit revealing her cleavage. The fourth… I couldn’t look anymore. The phone slipped from my hand with a *clatter*, crashing to the floor, its screen instantly shattering. All strength drained from me, I collapsed onto the cold floor, my mind a blank. Those photos were like poisoned daggers, each one a fresh stab, slowly flaying my heart. So, my pure, flawless wife—the beautiful woman I’d held so dear, treated like a princess—had such a sordid past. So, all the sweet nothings she’d whispered to me, all the innocence and shyness she’d displayed in front of me, were nothing but an act. She was a master manipulator, an experienced actress! What was I? A clueless fool, a pathetic stepping stone she used to escape her past? No wonder, no wonder she’d always avoided intimacy during our two years of dating. It wasn’t because she was conservative; it was because she’d been around the block, terrified I’d discover the secrets of her body! No wonder she never talked about her college days. Every time I asked, she’d vaguely change the subject. No wonder her parents, despite being professors, had been so eager about our marriage, barely making any demands, only accepting a token wedding contribution. They must have known their daughter’s secret all along, desperate to marry her off to some unsuspecting good guy! All the suspicious points, at this moment, strung together into a clear thread, pointing to a truth that tore me apart. I paced the room like a caged beast, the fury and humiliation in my chest threatening to consume me whole. I wanted to rush over, drag her out of bed, and fiercely demand why she’d done this to me! But when I saw her sleeping face, my steps faltered. That face was still so beautiful, so innocent. I even began to wonder if all this was just a nightmare. No, that butterfly tattoo, those indecent photos, all reminded me, with brutal clarity, that this was not a dream. I painfully covered my face, tears streaming uncontrollably through my fingers. I don’t know how long I sat on the floor, until the sky outside the window turned a fish-belly white. Stella woke up. Rubbing her sleepy eyes, she saw me sitting on the floor and was startled. “Darling, what’s wrong? Why are you sitting on the floor?” She walked over anxiously, trying to help me up. I violently shook off her hand, with such force that she stumbled back two steps, hitting the edge of the bed. She froze, her face filled with bewilderment and confusion: “Liam, you… you hurt me.” I raised my bloodshot eyes, staring intensely at her, my voice hoarse as if from hell: “Stella Reed, how much longer are you going to keep up this damn charade?” She was terrified by my appearance, her face instantly turning ashen: “You… what are you talking about? I don’t understand.” “Don’t understand?” I sneered, picking up the shattered phone from the floor and throwing it violently at her. “Then do you understand *these*?” Stella’s gaze fell on the phone screen. When she saw the photos, the color drained from her face completely. Her body began to tremble uncontrollably, her lips quivering, unable to utter a single word. That look of panic undoubtedly confirmed everything. My heart hit rock bottom. “Why?” I clenched my fists, my fingernails digging deep into my palms, my voice a desperate roar, “Why did you lie to me? What did you take me for? A fool to clean up your mess?” Stella’s whole body jolted. Tears streamed down her face like broken pearls. She lunged forward, trying to grab my leg, but I kicked her away. “Don’t touch me! You make me sick!” My words were like a knife, plunging deep into her heart. She fell to the floor, covering her face, letting out suppressed, painful sobs. “I’m sorry… Liam, I’m so sorry…” she cried, gasping for breath, “I didn’t mean to lie to you… I just… I just loved you too much, I was afraid you’d leave me if you knew…” “Loved me?” I laughed bitterly as if I’d heard the biggest joke. “Is *that* how you loved me? With lies and deceit? Stella Reed, do you know how disgusted I am by you right now?” “No… it’s not like that…” She desperately shook her head, crawling towards me, crying, “Listen to me, please, it’s not what you think… back then, my family had problems, my dad gambled and owed a lot of money, I had no choice but to…” “Enough!” I roughly cut her off. “I don’t want to hear your sob story! All I know is that my wife is a whore who’s been with anyone!” With that, I slammed the door shut, leaving her desperate cries far behind.
I ran through the streets like a madman. The cold morning wind filled my lungs, but it did nothing to cool the burning pain and fury in my heart. I stopped in front of a diner and ordered two bottles of the strongest whiskey. I chugged it down, chasing it with cold pastries. The fiery liquid burned my esophagus and stomach, but I felt no pain. Because the pain in my heart was a thousand times worse. Passersby shot me strange looks, but I didn’t care. I was a joke now, a colossal joke. I thought I’d married the purest angel in the world, but it turned out she was a devil who’d wallowed in the mud. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through photos of Stella and me. In the pictures, she smiled so sweetly, so innocently, nestled beside me like a docile kitten. But now, that face looked full of hypocrisy and filth. I deleted the photos one by one. With each deletion, my heart was flayed anew. When I reached the last one, I stopped. It was our wedding photo. I wore a suit, handsome and upright; she wore a wedding dress, beautiful and moving. We smiled at the camera, radiating happiness. I stared at the photo for a long time, but ultimately couldn’t bring myself to delete it. I tossed the phone aside, picked up the whiskey bottle, and took another long swig. I don’t know how long I drank until my stomach churned, and I swayed as I pushed myself up from the table. I couldn’t just let this go. I couldn’t let her and her entire family play me for a fool. I needed answers. I would go to her parents and expose their family’s deception! I hailed a cab and gave the address of Stella’s parents’ house. It was an upscale faculty residential area, quiet and secluded. I’d been there a few times. Each time, my mother-in-law and father-in-law had been incredibly warm, calling me “dear Liam” as if I were their own son. Now, thinking back, how much guilt and calculation must have been hidden behind that excessive warmth! I rang the doorbell. My mother-in-law opened the door. She froze when she saw me, then smiled warmly: “Oh, Liam, what a surprise! Why are you here so early? Where’s Stella? Isn’t she with you?” I pushed her aside emotionlessly and walked straight in. My father-in-law was sitting on the living room sofa, reading the newspaper. He also greeted me with a smile: “Liam, come in, have a seat.” I scanned the elegantly decorated living room. My father-in-law’s calligraphy hung on the wall, with five large characters that read “Harmony brings prosperity.” I found it incredibly ironic. “I’m not here for a visit,” I said coldly, my voice devoid of emotion. “I’m here to ask you, do you feel a great sense of achievement from playing me for a fool?” The smiles on my in-laws’ faces froze. They exchanged glances, and my mother-in-law tentatively asked, “Liam, you… what do you mean? Did you argue with Stella? Husbands and wives make up, whatever it is, let’s talk it through…” “Talk it through?” I sneered. “Did your precious daughter think about ‘talking it through’ when she was the top call girl at ‘The Golden Cage’? Did you think about this day when you packaged a whore as a sophisticated lady and married her off to me?” The moment “The Golden Cage” left my lips, my in-laws’ faces turned instantly ashen. My father-in-law’s newspaper fell to the floor. His lips trembled, and he pointed at me, unable to utter a single word for a long time. My mother-in-law, with a *thud*, collapsed directly onto the floor. “How… how do you know…” My mother-in-law’s voice was shaking uncontrollably. “How do I know?” I advanced on them step by step, the hatred in my eyes almost tangible. “I also know her code name was ‘Butterfly,’ and her number was 7013! I also know that for money, she would kneel on the floor and lick a man’s shoes! Are you satisfied now?” Every word I spoke was like a heavy hammer, striking their hearts. My mother-in-law covered her face and burst into heartbroken sobs. My father-in-law, trembling all over, suddenly stood up and raised his hand, intending to slap me. I grabbed his wrist, with such force that he let out a muffled groan of pain. “What? You want to hit me? What right do you have to hit me?” I stared intensely at him, enunciating each word. “Was it you, her own father, who personally pushed your daughter into that fire pit?” Stella had said she went there because her family had problems, her father owed gambling debts… My father-in-law’s face turned from white to green, then from green to red, before he finally dropped his arm in defeat. He seemed to age ten years in an instant, collapsing back onto the sofa, clutching his head, letting out a pained groan. “It’s my fault… all my fault… I was blinded by greed, I ruined Stella, and I ruined you too…” He cried tears of regret, his voice filled with remorse, “I’m not human, I deserve to die…” Watching his anguished face, I felt no satisfaction, only a cold emptiness. So, Stella hadn’t lied. She really did go down that path to pay off her father’s debts. But what did that change? The facts were the facts. She had deceived me, and her body had been defiled by countless men. The thought of her once pleasing other men, the thought of her using the mouth that had kissed me to pleasure others, made me sick to my stomach. “What’s the point of saying all this now?” I released his hand, stepped back two paces, and looked at them indifferently. “I came here today to tell you that this marriage is over. You can take your daughter back. Liam Miller cannot ‘enjoy’ her.” With that, I turned and walked out, without a single backward glance. Behind me, I heard my mother-in-law’s heart-wrenching cries and my father-in-law’s desperate pleas. “Liam! Don’t go! Listen to us! Stella had her reasons!” “We’re sorry! Hit us, curse us, do whatever you want! Please, don’t divorce Stella, she can’t live without you!” I ignored them, quickening my pace out of that suffocating place. The sun shone on me, but I felt no warmth at all. My marriage, my life, had, on this day, completely become a joke. Returning to the empty new home, the sight of all the red wedding decorations was unbearable. I rushed over, tearing down the red paper “囍” characters from the walls, ripping them to shreds. Stella wasn’t home. Good. I didn’t want to see her hypocritical face right now. I sat on the sofa all day, neither eating nor drinking, like a soulless statue. Until evening, when the doorbell rang. I thought Stella had returned, and a wave of irritation surged through me. I got up to open the door, ready to kick her out. But standing outside was someone I hadn’t expected. It was Chris. My childhood best friend, and my best man at the wedding. He saw me, froze for a moment, then frowned: “Liam, what happened to you? Why do you look like this? Where’s Stella? She called me, crying her eyes out, saying you don’t want her anymore. What the hell happened?” I looked at him and suddenly laughed. A laugh uglier than any cry. “Chris,” I grabbed his shoulders, staring intently into his eyes, “Tell me, did you know about Stella Reed all along?”
Chris’s eyes visibly darted away. That subtle movement instantly ignited all the suspicions in my heart. “You look me in the eye, you bastard!” I roared, unconsciously tightening my grip. “You’re my best friend! Tell me, were you in on this, too, trying to fool me?” Chris winced from my grip, struggling a bit, a pained and conflicted expression on his face. “Liam, calm down first! Just listen to me…” “Listen to what? That she was forced? That she had her reasons?” I cut him off hysterically. “I don’t want to hear that BS! I just want to know if *you*, my best friend, knew from the start what kind of woman she was!” Chris fell silent. His silence was more devastating than any words. My heart, in an instant, turned completely cold. I violently released him, stumbling back two steps, looking at him in disbelief. “You… you really knew?” Chris sighed, his face filled with guilt: “Liam, I’m sorry. I… I only found out a little while ago.” “How long ago?” I pressed, my voice trembling. “Just… just before you two decided to get married,” Chris said with difficulty. “I accidentally overheard her on a FaceTime call with a friend and found out some… some things about her past.” “Then why didn’t you tell me?” My voice was squeezed out through gritted teeth. “How could I tell you?” Chris looked bitter. “You two were so in love then, about to get married. If I told you, would you have believed me? You’d just think I was jealous, trying to sow discord! Besides… I saw that Stella truly loved you, and she was trying to leave her past behind. I thought, everyone makes mistakes, let the past be the past…” “The past?” I gave a bitter laugh. “Chris, that’s not a scratched finger that a band-aid can heal! That’s a festering wound in my very bones! How can I just pretend nothing happened?” I pointed to my chest, yelling at him: “Do you know what I’ve been through these past two days? I feel like a goddamn idiot! The whole world knew the truth, and I was the only one kept in the dark! I gave all my love, all my trust, to a liar, a whore! You’re my brother, and you just stood by and watched me walk into a trap!” “Liam!” Chris also got agitated. “I admit I was wrong about this! But you can’t talk about Stella like that! She was desperate back then! Do you know how much money her dad owed? Three million! Loan sharks! Those people were coming to their house every day, smashing things, threatening to sell her mom into a black market mine! What could a twenty-year-old girl do?” “So she became a prostitute?” I retorted, eyes red. “There are so many ways to make money in the world, why did she choose the cheapest one?” “Because it was fast money!” Chris yelled back. “Every day she didn’t pay, the interest piled up by thousands! She didn’t have time to earn money slowly! You worked at ‘The Golden Cage’ yourself, you know what kind of place it is! Do you think she *wanted* to? The first time she was forced to take a client, she almost took her own life! Her dad was on his knees, begging her to save the family! What else could she do?” Chris’s words were like a bucket of ice water, dousing me, instantly calming me down a lot. Yes, I had been in that place. I had seen the desperation and numbness of those girls. I had also seen how ruthless loan sharks could be. But… “Then why didn’t she tell me?” I clutched my head in agony. “If she had told me earlier, we could have figured something out together, I could have helped her pay off the debt! Why treat me like an idiot and lie to me?” “She was scared,” Chris’s voice lowered. “She was afraid that if you knew, you’d look down on her, that you’d think she was dirty. Liam, honestly, if she had confessed everything at the beginning of your relationship, would you still have been with her? Would you still have married her?” I froze. I didn’t know. I really didn’t know. My rational mind told me I should. Because I loved *her*, not her past. But emotionally, I couldn’t imagine if, knowing my beloved girlfriend had such an unspeakable past, I could still embrace and kiss her without any reservations, as before. “See, even you’re hesitating,” Chris sighed. “So you can’t blame her. She’s just a pathetic woman who wanted to grasp happiness. She lied to you, that’s wrong. But her love for you was real.” “Love me?” I chuckled self-mockingly. “Perhaps. But this love is too heavy, too dirty. I can’t bear it.” I pulled out the divorce papers I had already prepared from the drawer and slammed them on the table. “Chris, help me give these to her. The house and car are hers; I’m leaving with nothing. I only have one demand: from now on, we’re strangers for life.” Chris looked at the divorce papers, his expression changing repeatedly. “Liam, are you really going to be this absolute? Give her another chance, give yourself another chance, okay?” “No more chances,” I shook my head, my eyes completely dead. “From the moment I knew the truth, all that was left between us was disgust.” Chris tried to persuade me further, but I simply pushed him out the door. With a *bang*, I closed the door, shutting out all sounds related to her. I leaned against the door, slowly sliding to the floor. Tears, once again, streamed down my face against my will. Goodbye, Stella Reed. Goodbye, the love I once thought would last a lifetime. Over the next few days, I moved back into my pre-marriage bachelor apartment and began living like a zombie. I took extended leave, locking myself in my room all day, numbing myself with alcohol and nicotine. Stella called me countless times, sent countless messages. I didn’t answer a single call, didn’t read a single message. I just wanted to completely erase this woman from my world as quickly as possible. A week later, Chris came again. He brought news I hadn’t expected. “Stella Reed is in the hospital,” he stood at the door, his face grim. “Gastric bleeding, plus a relapse of depression. She’s still in critical condition.” “Depression?” I froze, momentarily unable to react. “Yes, she’s had it before. It was… she got it during *that* period,” Chris’s eyes held a hint of compassion. “Later, she met you and slowly got better. This sudden divorce hit her too hard, so it relapsed.”
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