At first, I thought I’d found my safe harbor, someone I could rely on. I was filled with hope for our future.
I poured my heart into being a good wife, putting him first.
Whenever my colleagues invited me out for dinner, I declined, worried he wouldn’t eat properly if left alone.
Eventually, they stopped asking.
I put all my thoughts on him and did not care about contact with the outside world.
I thought my sincerity would be returned in kind.
But I was wrong. Not long after our wedding, Sean began staying out late.
Naively, I assumed it was work-related. I prepared nutritious meals and delivered them to his office, urging him to care for himself.
Until one night, I attended a banquet with him. Midway through, a glamorous woman approached with a provocative smile.
"So, you're Mrs. Carter?" she sneered. "I heard you're an orphan. No wonder your cooking is so good — it must've been a survival skill, huh? Were you a chef before?"
Then, I realized the meals I had painstakingly prepared for him had been going straight into another woman’s stomach.
When we got home, I confronted him for the first time.
To say it was a fight is more like a catharsis for me alone.