In my mind, my wife has always been a conservative and respectable woman. Throughout our years of marriage, I had suggested more than once that she try wearing some lingerie to spice things up, but she always refused without mercy. How could a woman like this possibly have an affair?
And how could she agree to take such explicit photos?
She usually told me everything, so I trusted her almost unconditionally. I never, ever imagined something like this could happen.
I stared blankly at the photo, my heart feeling like it was being torn apart. The woman I loved most had actually betrayed me. The pain was almost suffocating.
It took me a long time to snap out of it. Suddenly, I noticed that besides the one photo, there were two documents tucked inside the album.
With trembling hands, I opened the files. One was an abortion record, clearly bearing the signature of the person who had the abortion — Su Nan. I was all too familiar with her handwriting; I could say with absolute certainty that it was her own signature.
The other document was a gynecological examination report. It indicated that the abortion had damaged my wife's uterus and recommended she avoid pregnancy for the next three years. Otherwise, the risk of an ectopic pregnancy or miscarriage was very high.
The dates on both documents were from March of last year. I finally understood why my wife had been so insistent about not having a child in recent years. It wasn't that she didn't want one; she couldn't have one.
I gently placed the documents back on the desk. A sense of powerlessness welled up from deep within. It was only at that moment I realized that when a person is pushed to the extreme of anger and sorrow, they truly can become physically weak.
I lit a cigarette and slumped into my chair, my eyes fixed vacantly on the ceiling. I didn't know what I was thinking, and I didn't know what I could do.
"Xiao Liao, print me a copy of the holiday travel itinerary you and Liu Wei worked on last time."
Right at that moment, Wang Di actually pushed the door open and walked in. But I had no mind to pay her any attention. I remained as I was, staring at the ceiling. I just didn't know when the tears had started, soaking my face.
Smoking was strictly prohibited in the office. Wang Di smelled the smoke as soon as she entered, and her face instantly darkened. She was just about to lose her temper, but seeing my abnormal state, she forcefully suppressed her anger.
She approached my desk. The photos and documents on it were instantly laid bare before her eyes. Given how sharp this woman was, she immediately guessed everything.
Her expression softened instantly. She slowly bent down, took the cigarette from my hand, and slowly crushed it out in the trash can by the desk. Then she folded the photos and documents on the table and placed them back into the envelope.
Then she said to me softly, "Go home, Xiao Liao. I'll help you ask for three days off. Handle your affairs properly. Just remember, don't act impulsively." After saying this, she turned and quietly left the room.
Only then did I gradually come back to my senses. I glanced gratefully at the doorway, grabbed a tissue from the desk, and used the reflection on my black computer screen to tidy myself up a bit, trying hard to make myself look somewhat normal. Then I picked up the envelope and left the office.
"Hey, Brother Liao, running off during work hours? Must be a little sweetheart waiting for you outside."
Li Meng was sitting bored at the front desk playing with her phone. Seeing me leaving the company, she teased with a laugh.
I had no mind to deal with her at all at that moment. With a grim face, I rushed straight out of the company, got into my second-hand Haval, and sped towards home.
The house was as quiet as usual, but my emotions were in turmoil. I forced myself to stay calm. Sitting on the sofa, I smoked cigarette after cigarette, waiting for my wife to come home and give me a reasonable explanation.
My wife had a habit of taking a nap at noon, so she came home every day after work at lunchtime. As for me, I was too lazy to make the trip and often just dozed off at the office during lunch.
I had come home close to 10 AM. It was only about two hours until noon, but those two hours felt like a century to me. I smoked an entire pack of cigarettes clean.
Just as I was stubbing out the last cigarette butt, the sound of a key turning in the lock came through. My wife was back.
The moment my wife entered and saw me sitting on the sofa, she looked somewhat surprised, but she didn't say anything. She changed her shoes. Passing by the dining area, she saw the breakfast dishes still scattered messily on the table. She couldn't help but frown, shot me a glance, and then, without a word, started cleaning up.
It seemed she was still angry about last night. Otherwise, even if she wouldn't yell at me, she would at least have scolded me a little.
"Stop cleaning for now. I have something to say to you," I couldn't help but speak up.
My wife acted as if she hadn't heard. After gathering the dishes, she took them to the kitchen to wash.
The sound of the kitchen faucet made me even more agitated. I even felt my body trembling uncontrollably, but I had to hold it in.
Finally, my wife finished washing and came out of the kitchen. It looked like she didn't want to deal with me either and was planning to go straight to the bedroom to rest.
I could no longer hold back my anger. I slammed the table hard and roared, "Su Nan, get over here!"
My wife was stunned by my shout, looking at me incredulously. From the time we met until now, I had always spoken to my wife gently and softly, never raising my voice. This was the first time in my life I had ever yelled at her.
"Liao Fan, have you lost your mind lately? I won't agree to that shameless request of yours," my wife said angrily.
"*I'm* shameless? Take a look yourself and see who's really shameless!" I was furious beyond measure. I grabbed the envelope and threw it at my wife's feet.
My wife looked at me with confusion, slowly bent down to pick up the envelope, and took out the photo album.
The moment she opened the album, her pale face instantly flushed crimson. She involuntarily took a step back. The album in her hand fell to the floor with a clatter. The air in the house seemed to freeze, deathly silent.
My wife hung her head, lost in thought, her body trembling uncontrollably.
After a long while, my wife finally looked up. Her voice choked with sobs, she said, "I'm... I'm sorry, husband. I... I didn't mean to. Please... please forgive me."
Throughout our years of marriage, I couldn't bear to see my wife cry. Whenever she cried, I would panic. But this time, I was strangely calm.
I slowly sat down, pulled a pack of cigarettes from the drawer, took one out, and slowly lit it. I took a deep drag and asked in a low, strained voice, "Who is the man? When did it start?"
My wife shook her head frantically, as if possessed, and fiercely slapped herself several times across the face. My heart ached terribly; you could say it was bleeding. But I didn't stop her. I just watched silently.
My wife took a few steps over to me and, to my shock, fell to her knees with a thud. Under normal circumstances, this would have scared me to death. But at that moment, my heart was like iron.
"I'm sorry, husband. I'll tell you anything you want to know. I just beg you to forgive me," my wife cried, tears streaming down her face like rain, her voice so choked it was hard to make out the words. "Husband, I love you. I can't leave you. As long as you can forgive me, I'm willing to do anything."