Leaving a Cheating Husband

When I got home, the first thing I did was remove our wedding photo from the wall and toss it into the trash bin downstairs. Back when that picture was taken, we genuinely loved each other. The sky was gloomy, hinting at a brewing storm, so I hurried back inside. Remy and I had been together for five years; I had given him the best years of my youth. I was so devoted I would have risked everything for him. Despite his odd behavior, I never doubted him. My whole world revolved around him, and I expected the same in return. Yet, in the fifth year, our relationship fell apart in such an unbearable way.

My resolve crumbled when I entered the nursery. I fell to my knees beside the crib we had picked out together, my heart shattered. I had been enchanted by a unique custom design at first sight, but he dismissed it, saying the colors were too bright. Yet, there it was, in a video, with Jessie. My phone buzzed with a message from Paulina: "Remy said I've been doing great with the kids, so he bought me an entire case and had it delivered." Another message followed: "He even got you some lotion. But who knew you'd be so ungrateful?"

The lotion was from a high-end international brand, costing hundreds for a small bottle. Last winter, when my hands cracked and bled, I had begged Remy to buy me a bottle during his business trip. When my condition worsened, I realized it was counterfeit. I confronted him, heartbroken, but he brushed off my concerns. "It's just lotion. Why do you need such an expensive one anyway? You should learn from Paulina, Phoebe." At the time, I really thought my standards were too high.

I was on the verge of sleep, tears on my face, when Remy finally returned. His warm hands gently covered me, and he kissed away my tears. "Phoebe, I crossed the line today. I promise I won't upset you again. Please don't be angry. I brought your favorite apple pie." I glanced at it, noticing a slice missing from the corner. Seeing my gaze, he hurriedly covered it up. "Paulina and the kids were so busy today, she barely ate and just had a little taste." But I’m allergic to apples.

I didn’t want to argue over something so trivial anymore. "Remy, let's get a divorce." He jumped up and smashed the pie on the floor. "What more do you want? I’ve apologized. You weren't like this before." Indeed, back then, I would go to great lengths to fulfill his every request. I rarely contradicted him. But my compliant nature only encouraged his blatant disrespect.

As we reached a standoff, the phone rang. Paulina’s soft voice came through, "The thunder and lightning are terrifying, and the baby and I are scared. Can you stay with us?" "Paulina is quite timid and doesn't have anyone to look after her. I'll just check on them, okay?" It seemed like he was asking for my approval, but his pleading eyes and the car keys in his hand told a different story. I turned away, lying in bed as if giving silent consent. He bolted out the door, jacketless, as if liberated. I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. I was afraid of thunder and lightning too.

As a child, after taking a small bite of birthday cake, I was thrown out of the house into a stormy night, petrified by the flashes and crashes. Even recalling that memory made me tremble, but he never gave it much thought. As expected, Remy didn’t return that night. I lay awake all night, unable to find rest.