Right after summer break started, my husband, Julian—an internationally renowned sculptor—suddenly bailed on me. He claimed a surge of inspiration meant he needed to lock himself away in his studio to create, and therefore, couldn’t attend my art exhibition in Paris. But that very afternoon, I saw Julian post a photo on SnapChat for the first time ever. In the picture, his usual young nude model, Chloe, was straddling something, her eyes hazy, dazed. The shot was taken from below, looking up, incredibly intimate, leaving too much to the imagination… The caption read: “He took this.” I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me, and commented: “Oh, classic artist, right? So much ‘aesthetic.’” Immediately, the buyers’ collection SnapChat group exploded. Friends among the collectors started screenshotting and reposting, placing bets on when I’d finally lose it. When Julian called, he was still gasping for breath, as if he’d just finished a strenuous workout: “What’s with your passive-aggressive comments? Chloe is my muse, we’re making art!” “Stop thinking such dirty things all the time! This is art! But then again, a mediocre painter like you wouldn’t understand art.” “Go apologize to Chloe right now. I’ll attend your next exhibition with you.” Next time? I sneered and hung up. After this exhibition, the waiting period for my divorce would be over.
Julian probably never imagined I’d dare hang up on him. Immediately, a barrage of calls followed. I blocked and deleted his number. The world was finally quiet. I didn’t even need to think; he must be absolutely furious right now. “Ms. Skylar, you personally orchestrated your husband’s sculpture exhibition, shouldn’t Mr. Julian come up and say a few words…” Looking at the swarm of reporters below the opening ceremony, I offered a faint smile: “He’s dead. Can’t make it. Please feel free to look around.” Ignoring the crowd stunned by the news of his ‘death,’ I stepped down and checked my phone, only to see a new message pop up in the buyers’ group. Julian had invited Chloe into the group chat. Chloe, the ‘muse,’ tagged everyone: “My hand slipped, and I posted something inappropriate on Mr. Julian’s SnapChat. So sorry if it caused any trouble.” Hah. That apology, was it truly sincere? I let out a cold laugh. Julian immediately posted in the group: “We were engaged in normal artistic creation. You don’t need to apologize, only those who don’t understand art would get the wrong idea!” Seeing the man himself openly defending his ‘muse,’ the buyers, who were scrambling for sculptures, stopped lurking and quickly chimed in with support: “Don’t blame yourself, Miss Model, no need to apologize. After all, there’s probably only one petty person in this entire group, no need to pay her any mind.” “Exactly! Thanks to Miss Chloe, we get to see Master Julian in such glorious form!” “Master Julian, why don’t you just sculpt a nude pair of the two of you? I’ll pre-order it, price is negotiable!” Over the past two years, his sculptures had been hyped up to astronomical prices, and not one could be found. The buyers in the group were too busy praising Julian to do anything else, so of course, they sided with Chloe. If putting me down could earn them the master’s favor and a sculpture, they’d happily go all out. Even though more than half the buyers in the group were my connections, they still fawned over Chloe. What could I do? Julian was the sculpting master, and Chloe was his new darling he wanted to promote. And I, a mere art academy teacher and his agent, was, at best, just a glorified, love-blinded assistant. Gritting my teeth, I exhaled slowly, put away my phone, and dutifully surveyed the exhibition hall. I’d only walked a few steps when Chloe FaceTimed me, her tone utterly impolite: “Skylar, Professor Julian said to return home as soon as the exhibition is over to rough-sculpt our new piece.” “Let him sculpt it himself!” I laughed in anger. Every time Julian claimed inspiration, he’d make me rough-sculpt the plaster according to his ideas, and then he’d do the fine carving and polishing. I understood his ‘hard work,’ so I always helped him with those menial tasks. Had he gotten addicted to using me? Chloe’s voice dripped with arrogance: “But Professor Julian and I will both be completely nude models…” My face darkened, and I frowned: “What do you mean?” “It’s that explicit, dual-pose sculpture the buyer in the group pre-ordered. Professor Julian agreed, he said he wants you to sculpt it for us. Skylar, can you come home quickly? The buyer is pushing for it,” Chloe said, her voice dripping with insolence. I felt a wave of powerlessness, like I couldn’t slap her through the screen. Was it the buyer who specifically requested an explicit sculpture, or did Chloe just want to stir something up with her art academy professor? When Julian needed a model, Chloe had shamelessly begged and pleaded with me until I hired her. Out of consideration for her being a student, I even made sure she had some coverings, and to ease her fear, I was always present during Julian’s sculpting sessions. Yet, she just kept shedding more and more, even getting Julian to strip with her. Now she wanted me to sculpt their live explicit art? “Julian didn’t tell me about this. I can’t do that job. Besides, I’m very busy in Paris. If the buyer is in a hurry, tell his assistant to sculpt it for you. His skills are better than mine!” With that, I hung up before she could reply, then blocked her number again. It was laughable. Did Julian even remember I was his wife? Making me watch their live erotic scene? Purely to disgust me. A surge of pent-up frustration with nowhere to vent, I went to the restroom and splashed water on my face. Just as I came out, the venue manager trotted over, holding his phone up: “Ms. Skylar, Mr. Julian is calling you.” That persistent pest… Knowing Julian was bound to explode again, I took the call but didn’t bring it to my ear.
“Is Master Julian calling just to yell at me? Then I’m hanging up.” I dabbed my face with a tissue, my tone flat. “I admit, making excuses and breaking the appointment was wrong, but that’s no reason for you to disrespect Chloe.” “Right now, unblock both of us. Otherwise, our marriage is over.” My fingernails dug deep into my palm. I truly hadn’t expected Julian to be the one to propose divorce first, one day. I was about to agree, but then Chloe’s suggestive voice drifted from the background, as if she’d struck a pose and was asking Julian how it looked. I felt a wave of nausea: “Your muse is calling you, Master Julian. You two go wild with your art. As an outsider, I won’t interfere.” “After all, I’m the only one with a filthy mind, and you two are perfectly pure.” Julian flew into a rage: “We are!” “Chloe is a low-income student. I just want to give her a chance to get exposure and earn money. What’s wrong with me, her professor, helping her out? What are you making a fuss about?” Chloe’s voice grew closer on the phone, her soft, alluring breaths audible: “Professor Julian, what do you think… about this pose?” The next second, Julian seemed to pull the phone away, his tone infatuated: “Yes… that’s the feeling. You lie there, don’t move, I’ll be right there.” Then, he leaned closer to the microphone, his voice suddenly deepening: “I’m giving you two days. Get your ass back from Paris immediately and rough-sculpt for us. Otherwise, whether it’s at home or the Art Academy, I’ll make sure you’re out!” The line went dead. I realized how terribly wrong I had been. Wrong to think that personally organizing an exhibition would somehow reign in his wild ways. I should have guessed the outcome the moment Julian, without even looking, hastily signed our divorce papers. After returning the phone to the manager, I left the exhibition early and, back at the hotel, checked my phone. Countless missed calls and messages flooded in, all inquiring about Julian and Chloe’s two-person sculpture. The group had blown up my mentions, densely packed with people reserving sculptures, some even offering millions, tens of millions, with no upper limit. The buyers were in a frenzy, demanding a definitive answer from me. But I would get my divorce decree tomorrow. What answer was there to give? With a few quick taps, I left the group and immediately sent my resignation to the Art Academy’s HR department. The message showed as ‘read,’ but there was no response. I called, but the line was busy. Puzzled, I started packing my luggage. But just as I finished, the Dean of the Art Academy called. He said the art entrance exam questions had been leaked, and someone had reported me for accepting bribes and compromising the fairness of the exams. At that moment, many parents of students who failed the exams were causing a scene at the school gate. For a second, I thought my mind had just short-circuited. They were sensible words, yet I couldn’t make sense of a single one. “Dean Miller, could the student have reported the wrong person? I’m just a teaching assistant; I’ve never even been assigned to proctor an exam. How could I possibly have the ability to leak exam questions?” But then the Dean sent me a three-page long accusation letter. Reading the contents, my hands trembled with fear. I forgot to check out of my room and frantically bought a ticket back home. When I rushed into the Dean’s office, dusty and disheveled, I immediately demanded to confront the accuser. Dean Miller said nothing, merely bringing out the witness: a close acquaintance of Chloe’s, the student who claimed to have offered the bribe—Maya. “Dean Miller, she’s a close acquaintance of Chloe’s. Chloe and I have deep-seated animosity; it’s possible she’s framing me.” “Enough!” Julian suddenly pushed the door open, storming in and yelling at me without any verification: “Framing? You just hate her and want to drag Chloe down!” “Skylar! I thought you were just overly jealous, but still had professional ethics as a teacher. I never imagined you’d actually be corrupt!” “Do you know how important the fairness of the art exams is? You’re destroying the futures of other candidates! A selfish and greedy person like you doesn’t deserve to be a teacher, and certainly doesn’t deserve to be my wife!” I instantly froze, my heart feeling as if it had been brutally split in half by an axe. After a long moment, I managed to speak, my voice rough: “Julian, in your eyes, am I the kind of person who would accept bribes from students?” Julian stared at me coldly, his gaze filled with murderous hatred: “Otherwise, what? The USB drive with my exam materials from my study is missing.” One sentence sealed everything.
Instantly, everyone in the office looked at me with disgust. “I’ve never seen any USB drive!” I squeezed out my rebuttal through gritted teeth. I did indeed manage Julian’s study, but for nearly a year after Chloe appeared, he had explicitly forbidden me from entering it again. Only Chloe, however, could come and go freely! Unwillingly, I continued to defend myself, but with Professor Julian’s testimony, everything was quickly decided. Dean Miller immediately issued a termination letter, and a group of student parents spat at me. Dejected and downcast, I was just being ushered out of the academy building when an unknown student parent slapped me to the ground with a “smack!” “You shameless bitch! Stripping naked to seduce my son, how can the Art Academy have a slutty teacher like you! Aren’t you afraid of corrupting the students? I’ll tear you apart for acting like a slut!” The woman shrieked, lunging at me, straddling me and furiously beating me. My face stung with pain, and my vision gradually turned red, but I still saw Julian standing on the steps in front of the building. He casually glanced at me, then walked away. Finally, the woman was dragged away by security, but the crowd continued to point and whisper about me. I had just stood up, trying to ask what was happening, when a trending topic on a phone was shoved in my face. The headline read: **【TRENDING# An Art Academy Teacher, Skylar, Publicly Posts Nude Photos on School Forum, Intending to Seduce Male University Students】** Underneath were countless nude photos, all posted on the school forum in my name. The comments section had millions of shares, cursing me, saying I didn’t deserve to be a teacher, and demanding I leave the academy. From beside me, Chloe’s sugary-sweet mockery drifted over: “Professor Skylar, so you’re even trashier than I am?” I suddenly turned my head and saw her glance at the blood on my face, then her gaze fell on the termination letter, and she exclaimed. “Oh dear, have you been kicked out of school?” Wasn’t this all her doing? What’s with the act? Stepping back, I scoffed coldly: “What goes around comes around, Chloe. I just don’t have the evidence yet, but you will pay for what you’ve done!” Did she think everything would be fine just because Julian helped her commit perjury? I only hoped she’d still be smiling so smugly when we got to court. Chloe’s face stiffened, a flicker of guilt flashing in her eyes. But seeing me about to leave, she immediately put on a disdainful, haughty expression and accused me: “Skylar, you openly accepted bribes, corrupted your teacher’s ethics, and ruined the school’s reputation! How dare you just walk away?” “Today, you must get on your knees and apologize to all the teachers, students, and parents! Otherwise, you’re not leaving!” As she shouted, more and more people gathered. I tried to leave, but she held me in a death grip. “Get off me!” I frowned deeply, violently shaking her off, but Chloe, using my momentum, suddenly fell to the ground and shrieked. “Ah—Professor Skylar, don’t hit me!” The next second, someone kicked me away, and I was in such pain my insides felt scrambled. “Skylar! How dare you bully Chloe again!” Julian withdrew his foot, carefully helped Chloe up, his features scrunched up, full of heartache. He was always like this, always blindly taking Chloe’s side, never bothering to understand the truth. The girl nestled in his arms, like a frightened little rabbit, timidly said: “Professor Julian… I’m fine. Professor Skylar, it was just an accident that…” As she spoke, the man opposite grew even angrier, glaring at me as if I were a heinous criminal. “Skylar, are you even human? You openly cheated on me, and you’re always bullying Chloe. How exactly did she offend you?” “Now, apologize to her immediately!” Meeting his cold, almost cruel gaze, I stood my ground fiercely: “You want me to apologize? Fine, then tell everyone right now who went into your study and stole the USB drive?” “You tell me, and I’ll apologize to her immediately.” Hearing this, Julian’s breath caught. He glanced at my battered state, then leaned closer, his tone softening: “Alright, I know you didn’t do it, but the situation has blown up. What do you expect me to do? Chloe is still a student; I can’t ruin her future.” “And what about me! You can just ruin my future!” My eyes narrowed. In that instant, anger, fury, and even a touch of unbelievable grievance and a coldness in my heart, surged through me. I loudly questioned him, questioned this man I had shared a bed with for seven years. Never had my heart felt so utterly cold! Noticing my voice was too loud, drawing eager, prying looks from those around us, Julian panicked slightly. He urgently ordered me to lower my voice. But the next moment, my voice was extremely soft: “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” I thought, since I’d brought up divorce, he would surely take it seriously. But I was wrong… “Alright, don’t use divorce to threaten me. Can you really bear to divorce? I didn’t cheat, Chloe is just work. Stop while you’re ahead, don’t make a fuss!” He wanted to say more, but then Chloe let out a cry of pain. Julian didn’t even make me apologize anymore. He picked her up and ran towards the infirmary, blatantly disregarding the student-teacher boundaries. It was fine. If they didn’t care, then neither did I. I found a random hotel to stay in, and the next day, I headed straight to the courthouse and picked up my long-awaited divorce decree. The last step to sever all ties with Julian was to go home, pack my things, sell the house, and then leave for good. But “Unlock Failed—” My keypad lock suddenly wouldn’t open.
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