Chapter 1

It was 11 PM and my wife Natalia hadn't returned home yet.

When I called, she hesitated, claiming to be caught up in a company gathering and couldn't leave.

I didn't confront her.

Instead, I quietly watched as she, the woman I had dated for four years and married for five, entered a bar hand-in-hand with another man.

"I'll probably be a few more hours. Don't wait up for me; go to sleep," she said in a rush and hung up.

This was her eleventh late return this month, and it was the last chance I was willing to give her.

At 4 AM, Natalia came home.

She immediately rushed to the bathroom to shower.

The clothes she carelessly threw on the sofa were missing the stockings she had worn out.

I sighed, picked up the clothes to wash, and went to the kitchen to make some sobering soup.

"You're the best, Gerold!" she exclaimed suddenly, embracing me from behind.

Her voice was still sweet. "Staying up late to make soup for me? Aww, you'll spoil me."

My usual warmth was gone; I pushed her away coldly.

"Have some soup first. You have stomach problems, and without this, you'll have trouble sleeping tonight."

Natalia smiled, settling down like an obedient cat, sipping the soup bit by bit while muttering, "Work has been so hectic recently, always either overtime or gatherings. Looks like I won't get a break this weekend either, it's killing me..."

I remembered she had said the same last week.

When I worried about her irregular meals and brought her lunch, I discovered she never stayed late at work. Her empty desk held only a photo frame that included a picture of her and Jason.

Her colleague told me the frame hadn't been changed in years.

"If you're tired of hiding it, just stop."

"Hiding what?" Natalia's eyes widened in an instant.

"Your thing with Jason. It must be exhausting to lie every day, drinking late into the night, then having to scheme around me. It's really not necessary."

As I spoke, I poured the soup into a prepared dish, pointing out each ingredient, instructing her to remember how to make it.

"Next time you drink, you might need to learn to make it yourself."

"Gerold, stop it!"

"Are you saying you won't make soup for me anymore? You don't want me anymore?"

Natalia clung to my arm, her eyes beginning to redden.

Years of marriage had me holding back my anger. "You cheated on me, and I failed to win your heart even after nine long years. I think that's enough."

"What are you talking about? I'm not that kind of woman!"

Natalia released my arm and glared at me furiously. "Haven't I explained it to you? Jason and I are just friends. He recently came back from abroad, with no place or job settled, so I met with him a few times to help.

"Can't you just man up? Stop being so irrationally jealous. It's really unbecoming!"

She frowned in disgust.

The last time I caught her lying about a date with Jason, she had used a similar excuse.

But if it was just a friendship, why the repeated lies?

Why were her returns home getting later and later?

I sighed, no longer able to tolerate it.

"Then let's get a divorce. Go find your classy Jason!"

Her childhood friend for many years was nothing but a jobless leech, living off his parents and spending his nights at bars and clubs.

Yet inexplicably, she was drawn to him.