After a night of drinking, I found myself in bed with the guy next door. Once sober, he proved to be a remarkably responsible man and asked me to marry him. It wasn’t until later that I discovered the woman he truly loved had left the country that very night. So, I buried my feelings and became his obedient, dutiful wife in name only. We shared countless silent nights, perfectly in sync yet never crossing the line. All my friends said I would never leave him, and I believed it too. Until today, when I discovered his second phone. While he was in the shower, a girl sent him a selfie. “Mr. Theo, thank you for the birthday gift.” She was a young girl, with delicate features. But her clothes, far too sophisticated for her age, made her seem a bit uncomfortable. I stared at the photo for a long time, until my eyes began to sting. I always knew there was someone around Theo, but I never expected it to be a girl like her. Besides feeling moved, I was surprised by my husband’s taste. I felt sorry for him, having seen Theo’s secret. Moments later, Theo emerged, still damp from the shower. “How much longer are you going to look?” He snatched the phone from my hand, glanced at me, and began to dress. His expression showed no embarrassment at being caught by his wife. I knew his confidence came from the control he held over our finances. Because I was the one he kept at home, even though I used to be a renowned pianist before we married. I didn’t confront him about the photo; I couldn’t afford to. Seeing he was about to leave, I hurried to speak up. “Theo, I want to talk to you.” He fastened his belt leisurely and looked at me. “I have five minutes. The driver is waiting downstairs.” I guessed where he was headed, and my heart sank. “Theo, I want to work.” Theo turned, studying me for a moment. Then he pulled out a checkbook, wrote down a number, tore it off, and handed it to me. “Isn’t being a full-time wife at home good? Working isn’t for you.” With that, he was ready to leave. I followed him, lowering my stance. “I’m not afraid of hard work. I want to work. I can play the piano.” He had no patience to listen. To him, I was like a delicate flower. Someone who had gotten used to being taken care of, unsuited for facing the world or enduring hardship. Theo glanced at his watch; time was up. He left without hesitation. I couldn’t stop him, only gripping the door handle tightly as I asked. “My dad’s birthday is this Saturday. Do you have time?” Theo paused for a moment. “We’ll see.” The door closed gently. After a while, I heard the sound of a car starting downstairs, growing fainter. A few minutes later, the maid came upstairs. “Sir is going to City H for a few days. He said it’s something important.” “Also, a batch of Mr. Theo’s clothes was just delivered. Madam, should I send them for cleaning or would you prefer to wash and iron them yourself?” They knew the relationship between Theo and me was just average. In this house, they acted as our go-betweens. I knelt on the sofa, lost in thought for a long time before I came to my senses and spoke softly. “I’ll wash them by hand.” Because Theo didn’t like the smell of dry cleaning solvents. So all of Theo’s clothes, including suits and coats, were washed by me and then ironed. Besides this, Theo had high standards in other areas too. He disliked outside food and any clutter in the bedroom, so I learned to cook and organize floral arrangements. He never truly cared for this wife, only marrying me because of an accident. I gradually became the perfect full-time wife, and my life almost solely revolved around Theo. But Theo still didn’t love me.
I looked down at the check. Last year, my family fell apart. My dad was so stressed that he developed an illness, and his monthly expenses were over six figures. Every time I went home, my stepmother complained that I didn’t take enough from Theo. “He’s the CEO of Taylor Pharmaceuticals, worth billions.” “Phoebe, you’re his wife. Isn’t what’s his yours?” I gave a bittersweet smile. How could Theo’s things ever be mine? Theo didn’t love me and was usually cold towards me. Our marriage was only about sex, not love. He wouldn’t even let me have his child. Every time we were intimate, he reminded me to take my pills. Yes, I had to take the pills. I reached for the bottle, poured out a pill, and swallowed it numbly. After taking the pill, I gently pulled open a small drawer. Inside was a thick diary, filled with my love for Theo since I was 18. Ten years, I’ve loved him for a whole decade, and I silently closed my eyes. This one-man show seemed to be reaching its end. I didn’t wait for Theo to come back. My dad had another acute episode and was rushed to the intensive care unit, critically needing surgery. I stood in the hospital corridor, repeatedly calling Theo, but no one answered. Just when I was about to give up, Theo picked up. Fearing he’d lose patience, I spoke quickly. “Theo, my dad—” But Theo interrupted me, sounding a bit impatient: “Do you need money?” “I’ve told you many times, if you need urgent money, go to Quentin. Phoebe, are you listening?” I looked up at the LED screen, dazed, which was broadcasting today’s news. Taylor Pharmaceuticals’ CEO rented out the entire Disney park for a night of fireworks just to make a girl smile. Under the brilliant fireworks, a young girl sat in a wheelchair, smiling sweetly. And there was my husband, Theo, standing behind her, holding a phone, talking to me. I blinked slowly, and after a long moment, spoke with a hint of brokenness: “Theo, where are you?” He paused on the other side, seemingly displeased with my questioning, but still responded perfunctorily. “Still busy. If there’s nothing else, I’ll hang up. Contact Quentin.” He didn’t notice my near-teary tone, but his gentle gaze towards someone else was very soft, very tender. My vision blurred. So Theo could be this gentle. Behind me, my stepmother’s voice came: “Did you get in touch with Theo? If he doesn’t help, there’s nothing we can do.” But she stopped mid-sentence when she saw the scene on the screen. After a long pause, she found her voice again. “He went to City A again.” “Phoebe, I can’t believe that when Theo was in a coma, this girl named Zora played the piano and woke him up.” “Even if that’s true, how is this paying it back? He can’t even remember your birthday.” My stepmother grew angrier as she spoke, and thinking about our family’s situation, she began to cry. “But Phoebe, you must keep it together. Don’t cause trouble with Theo now.” I clenched my hands, my nails digging into my flesh, yet I felt no pain. Cause trouble with Theo? I wouldn’t. Not because I’m a sensible Mrs. Theo. But because I have no right. An unloved wife, the title means nothing. I stared at the endless fireworks and softly said. “All these fireworks must cost a lot, right?” My stepmother didn’t understand what I meant. I lowered my eyes and began calling Quentin.
Disturbing someone in the middle of the night is always unpleasant. Quentin had been with Theo for a long time and held a high position. Moreover, he knew Theo didn’t care about his wife. So when he heard my request, his tone was cold and aggressive. “Mrs. Theo, you need to apply first. Only after Mr. Theo signs can you get the check.” “Just like your jewelry, you have to register it to use it.” “Mrs. Theo, do you understand what I mean?” I hung up the phone, lowered my head, and remained very quiet. After a long while, I lifted my eyes to look at myself in the glass, gently raising my hand. On my slender ring finger was the wedding ring. It’s the only thing I don’t need to apply for or register with Theo’s secretary. How pathetic I am as Mrs. Theo. I blinked in a daze and suddenly said, “Help me find someone to sell my wedding ring.” My stepmother was stunned: “Phoebe, are you crazy?” I turned slowly, the footsteps echoing in the lonely, late-night hall. After a few steps, I stopped and said firmly. “Auntie, I’m very clear-headed, more than ever. I want a divorce from Theo.” Three days later, Theo returned home. He pushed open the bedroom door and saw me sitting at the dressing table, organizing my things. He put his luggage down, loosened his tie, and sat on the bed, observing me. After getting married, I always enjoyed doing housework, organizing, and making snacks. If it weren’t for the title of Mrs. Theo, in Theo’s mind, I was no different from a nanny. I didn’t speak for a long time, and Theo, tired from his trip, didn’t bother to say anything either. He went straight to the closet, grabbed a robe, and headed to the shower. While showering, he probably thought that with my soft personality, I’d be over it by the time he came out. And I’d continue being the gentle wife. He was so sure I’d love him like this forever. So when he stepped out of the bathroom and saw his suitcase still in place, he felt it necessary to talk to me. Theo sat on the sofa, casually picked up a magazine, and after a while, he looked up at me and said. “How’s your dad’s condition?” “I’ve already reprimanded Quentin for what happened that night.” He went to the closet, picked out a robe, and headed to the shower. While he was in there, he probably assumed that my gentle nature would lead me to calm down by the time he was done. Then I’d go back to being the dutiful wife. He was so confident that I would always love him like this. So when he stepped out and saw his suitcase still there, he realized we needed to talk. Theo settled on the couch, casually picked up a magazine, and after a while, looked up at me. “How’s your dad doing?” “I already talked to Quentin about that night.” He said it so dismissively, with no sincerity whatsoever. I set down what I was holding and met his eyes in the mirror. In the reflection, Theo’s features were striking, and he wore a robe better than anyone else. I stared for a long time, until my eyes stung, then calmly said, “Theo, let’s get a divorce.”
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