I secretly joined my husband Wesley Murphy’s group chat using a fake account. That day, an announcement was posted in the group: [We’re organizing a mountain biking activity this weekend. Overnight accommodation will be arranged, with two people per room. To add mystery to the event, room assignments will be determined by drawing lots.] I didn’t understand what the announcement meant, so I curiously asked in the group: [What happens if a man and woman draw the same room?] Someone quickly replied: [You must be new here, right?] [Well, we’d have to congratulate that lucky pair!] [Isn’t that kind of thrill exactly why people join these activities?] Then the group members started getting more explicit, even describing details from the last event. [FarAhead’s condom broke last time, and he came knocking on my door to borrow one. I thought to myself, they must really be going at it hard.] [I’m so jealous of you guys who get to room with the opposite sex. Last time I roomed with another guy, and hearing all the action from the rooms on both sides made me so envious. Before the drawing this time, I’m definitely washing my hands thoroughly to try and draw someone of the opposite sex!] Someone even suggested to the admin: [I propose we separate the drawing by gender this time, ensuring every room has one man and one woman. After all, that’s what everyone’s here for.] Watching the group chat, my face turned pale and my hands trembled as I held my phone. Because Wesley had also participated in the last biking event. When he came back, he vividly told me how well-organized the activity was and how enthusiastic the biking buddies were. No wonder he seemed so satisfied and eager to continue at the time. Turns out their “enthusiasm” went that far! Just then, Wesley asked someone called “EunoiaCat” in the group. He asked: [EunoiaCat, are you going to this event?] Wesley even sent a shy emoji, clearly hoping she would participate. “EunoiaCat” immediately replied: [Don’t even mention it. My husband insists on doing some parent-child bonding activity this weekend, dragging me to go mountain climbing with our son. I just don’t get it. My kid is already 8 years old, why does he still need to take up my personal time?] I was about to say she was an irresponsible mother. But then Wesley replied: [Ugh, that’s so unfortunate. Besides being a mother, women should live for themselves too.] “EunoiaCat” instantly sent back a crying emoji. Seeing Wesley suddenly being so considerate, I was furious. Just moments ago, we had argued about who would take our daughter Olivia Murphy to her extracurricular classes. The argument started because my good friend Emily Miller, who had been away for several Christmases, finally came back. I wanted to have dinner with Emily and catch up. But Wesley looked unhappy and said, “Chloe, are your friends more important than Olivia’s education?” Chloe Turner is my name. After a pause, he continued, “You’re already a mother. How can you just think about going out with Emily all the time? Can’t you put important things first?” I asked him back then, “You’re Olivia’s father. Why won’t you ever take Olivia yourself?” Wesley looked at me incredulously and said, “Are you crazy? Me, a man, taking Olivia to dance class? That place is full of moms. What would people think of me?” Now seeing Wesley’s double standards, I was furious. At that moment, the group started taking sign-ups for the activity. Wesley quickly registered. “EunoiaCat” sent him a pouting emoji and questioned: [Wesley, you’re so heartless. Didn’t you say last time that you hoped to draw the same room as me again? Why are you still so eager even when I’m not going?] Wesley sent a kissing emoji and replied: [EunoiaCat, don’t be mad. When you have time, we’ll meet up privately.] Their interaction prompted teasing from others in the group. [EunoiaCat, looks like Wesley really satisfied you last time!] Reading the group chat, I fought back tears and steadied my breathing, my hands shaking as I also signed up for the event.
The group admin immediately asked me: [SkySiren, this is your first time joining this kind of overnight cycling event, right?] I replied coolly: [Yes.] Admin: [You’re so cold. I like that.] Someone chimed in: [What good does it do that you like her? You’d have to get picked first.] Wesley joined in the teasing: [Don’t rush. You guys don’t understand the ‘ice queen’ type. How about I ‘break her in’ first, and then…] He even sent a lewd smirking emoji. Everyone in the group chimed in: [Right, let Wesley test the waters first.] It seemed that in this cycling group, Wesley was the acknowledged “veteran.” After all, with all those nights he didn’t come home, even relying on random draws, he must have encountered all kinds of women. No wonder he would refuse to be intimate with me for several days after each cycling trip. Turns out he’d been having too many inappropriate encounters outside. The bitter emotions in my heart finally couldn’t be suppressed, and tears dripped onto my phone screen. Just then, Wesley strolled out of the bathroom. He looked at me with disdain: “What are you looking at now? Are those people teaching you how to tell if your husband loves you again? “I really don’t get it. I give you living expenses on time – where do all these grievances come from? “Whatever, I don’t want to talk to you. I’m going cycling tomorrow, so you stay home and take good care of Olivia.” I wiped away my tears and looked directly at him: “Do you absolutely have to go?” I was asking him, but also asking myself. Should I continue participating in this messy, dirty business? Wesley froze for a moment, then immediately roared in disgust: “What’s wrong with you now? “I don’t visit prostitutes, I don’t gamble – cycling is my only healthy hobby, and you’re still not satisfied? You’re an unreasonable control freak!” I stared blankly at Wesley’s twisted face, feeling like that shy 18-year-old boy who used to smile at me had shattered in an instant. I clenched my fists, using the pain of my nails digging into my palms to remind myself to stay calm, then said coldly: “Then you’d better stay ‘healthy’ forever.” “I’ll definitely outlive you!” Wesley pointed his finger at me and cursed, “If you want to be with me, we’ll continue. If not, let’s get divorced – stop giving me trouble every day!” With that, he viciously kicked over the nearby trash can: “What rotten luck, marrying such an unreasonable woman like you!” How ironic! Six years ago at our wedding, he wore a suit, held a microphone, and said he’d used up several lifetimes’ worth of luck to marry the person who’d made his heart flutter since childhood. Just then, Olivia came out of her room clutching a pillow, trembling. She looked at the garbage scattered on the floor in terror and asked in a shaky voice: “Mommy, are you fighting again?” I quickly wiped away my tears, forced a smile, and got up to pull Olivia into my arms. I said: “No, we were just rehearsing a play.”
Wesley didn’t continue his outburst. Instead, he shot me a warning glare before turning and heading to his study. With my eyes red and swollen, I quickly packed a few clothes, preparing to take Olivia to my parents’ house. As we were about to leave, Wesley saw me. He glanced dismissively at the luggage in my hands and sneered, “Running back to your parents’ again? How many days this time? Don’t you find all this back-and-forth exhausting? You’re a married woman now. Having such an immature daughter must really upset your parents.” I didn’t want to argue with him in front of Olivia. So I gripped Olivia’s hand tightly and walked out without looking back. Wesley’s mocking laughter followed me. He said, “Perfect. Saves me the trouble of keeping you updated on my whereabouts. I really don’t know where you picked up all these bad habits.” That evening, the group chat was unusually active. Everyone was excited about the next day’s activities. Someone asked Wesley: [Wesley, how come you have so much free time to chat today? Isn’t your wife nagging you?] Wesley was in a great mood and quickly replied: [You guys should learn from me. I just pick a random fight with her, and that stupid woman runs back to her parents’ with Olivia, just like always. This time I found the perfect excuse – no way she can complain about it.] I was struck by the realization that it only takes a few years for someone to go from being “my beloved” to “that woman.” Then “EunoiaCat” said to Wesley in the group chat: [Wesley, we’re really on the same wavelength. My son got taken to his grandma’s by his dad. I just brought up everything his mom did a few years ago, and then I didn’t follow them.] Someone in the chat stirred things up: [What are you two implying? Are you publicly telling each other that tonight’s convenient for a date?] Wesley and “EunoiaCat” stopped responding in the group chat. They’d obviously moved to private messages. I quietly took screenshots of the chat conversation, then opened our home security system, waiting patiently like a cat watching for a mouse to enter its trap. Sure enough, half an hour later, Wesley happily left the house. Five minutes after that, he walked in with a woman in his arms. My stomach churned, and I couldn’t help but dry heave. She actually delivered herself right to my doorstep and dared to come into my home! From the moment they entered, they were urgently embracing and kissing, then quickly tearing off each other’s clothes. A blouse and underwear scattered on the floor. Finally, the two of them walked into the master bedroom in each other’s arms. I bit my lower lip until it bled, suppressing the urge to rush home. I saved the security footage and sent the screenshots to Emily as well. I texted her: [Emily, cancel everything you have tomorrow. I’ve got exclusive news for you.] After all, catching just one dead mouse was never what a cat really wanted. The next day, I arrived early at the cycling group’s meeting point. Using sun protection as an excuse, I covered my entire body from head to toe, not leaving even a bit of facial skin exposed. The moment Wesley saw me, a flash of surprise crossed his face. But his attention was quickly drawn to how my cycling outfit hugged my figure. Wesley extended his hand toward me and said, “SkySiren? I’m Wesley.” The desire in his eyes was practically overflowing. This scene overlapped with what I’d seen in yesterday’s surveillance footage, making me feel nauseous again. Wesley quickly pulled out his water bottle and handed it to me, asking with concern, “Are you okay? If you can’t keep up later, just signal me.” I let out a cold laugh, thinking to myself: “First meeting and he’s already comfortable sharing a water bottle with a woman. Disgusting.” Someone came over to stir things up: “Wesley, you’re starting already? What if you two don’t get drawn for the same room later? Won’t all this effort be wasted?” Another person chimed in: “You’ve got it wrong. Wesley’s playing the ’emotional card.’ If they don’t get matched, he can ask her out privately later.” That person gave Wesley a knowing look. Wesley pretended to scold him: “Don’t scare the newcomer.” But the guy didn’t care: “Everyone knows what mindset we’re all here with. What’s the point of hiding it? I don’t have your skills, so I can only rely on luck. But honestly, that uncertainty and mystery is pretty addictive.” Everyone was excited throughout the ride, and we quickly reached the mountain lodge, then eagerly began today’s room drawing. Those drawing numbers only knew their own room numbers. The key cards would be split into two. Under the team leader’s direction, men and women would enter the rooms in separate groups. I heard that initially, women went in first to create a sense of “anticipation” for the men. Later they changed it so women went in second, saying it was more thrilling that way. Anyway, in these people’s eyes, women were just tools for entertainment. And yet, plenty of women willingly accepted all of this. I walked down the hallway with my key card and noticed several mountain bikes leaning against doorways. The surroundings were very quiet. I pulled out my phone and texted Emily: [Emily, how’s your preparation going?] Emily replied: [OK.] Just then, an explosive dance track suddenly blared from downstairs. A group of elderly folks were arguing with the front desk staff. One man said: “What gives you the right to stop us from dancing? We’re guests here too. Since we paid money, you have to serve us. If you keep giving us trouble, we’ll trash your place!” Someone in the group chat started complaining: [Damn! Where did this bunch of hicks come from? I was just getting in the mood when that music scared the hell out of me.] Someone joked: [That’s because you’re no good. Who’s rooming with you tonight? She’s so unlucky.] That person angrily replied: [Bullsh*t! Does yours even work? Without pills, you’d just be staring at her all night!] Someone else asked: [Who’s rooming with SkySiren? She’s new, so she must be excited.] Then Wesley suddenly sent a message: [Don’t even mention it. My roommate still hasn’t come in. Who the hell drew room 2115?] Reading their chat, I couldn’t help but smile. What perfect timing today turned out to be.
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