On the seventh New Year’s Eve of our marriage, just as I was about to serve the celebratory dinner, my son tugged my husband out the door. “Come on, Dad, hurry up! Sophie is getting impatient, and you know she hates to wait.” I froze, thinking it was a joke. I forced a smile and asked, “Which Sophie…?” My husband, James, admitted his affair with a chilling indifference. “Honestly, celebrating the New Year with you every year has gotten pretty boring. It’s just what you think it is—the seven-year itch. As for us, if we can make it work, fine. If not, let’s just get a divorce.” The sudden news left my mind a complete blank. I instinctively looked at our son, Daniel. He didn’t run to me for comfort like he usually did. He just hid behind his father, mumbling under his breath. “I want to be with Dad and Sophie.” That night, they welcomed the New Year with laughter amidst the fireworks, while I sat alone, staring at a full table of cold food. Their words echoed in my ears, tormenting me through a sleepless night. They didn’t come home until noon the next day, their farewells clearly reluctant. “Have you thought about it?” James asked. “If you want to stay, don’t ask questions. Don’t cause a scene. In the future, I’ll introduce you two…” I had finally made my choice. “Let’s get a divorce.” … James seemed surprised by my reaction. He took a moment before speaking. “We don’t have to get a divorce. I only told you because I don’t want you interfering in our business later on. Making a scene would just embarrass the girl.” He had thought of everything to protect her, without a single thought for the damage he was inflicting on me. Last night, I had sat curled in a corner, consumed by guilt, trying to figure out where I’d gone wrong. We’d dated for five years and been married for seven. I truly believed we were past the infamous seven-year itch. But we couldn’t escape it. In that moment, I replayed the entire twelve years of our life together. I had transformed from a bright-eyed young woman into a wife and a mother. Ever since we got married, my entire world had revolved around my husband and my son. I learned different cuisines, constantly creating new, nutritious meals to keep them healthy. My online shopping history was almost exclusively things for them. The most expensive item I’d ever bought for myself was a face cream I had coveted for months but never felt I could justify buying. I thought and I thought. I didn’t know what I had done wrong. For the first time, I felt utterly lost, a bone-deep chill seeping into me as I watched the fireworks outside. Then I stumbled upon a post on social media. It had to be her, Sophie. She’d posted a series of photos. A man’s watch and a boy’s jacket, left in the corner of the shot, gave them away. The caption read: A new year, a new beginning. I stared at their New Year’s Eve dinner: three burnt steaks. And in that instant, I understood everything. I hadn’t done anything wrong. They were simply tired of me. Just like that. Still, tears welled in my eyes. Even the son I had carried for ten months and brought into this world had turned against me. I truly was a failure. James saw the look on my face and softened his tone. “We can keep things as they are. Just as long as you promise not to cause trouble for her.” I bit the inside of my lip so hard I tasted blood, fighting to keep the tears from falling. “Let’s get a divorce.” James studied me for a few moments, then turned away with a single, dismissive phrase. “Suit yourself.” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. My hand trembled as I reached for the pen. I grew up in a single-parent home; would my son be okay? But he recoiled from me as if I were his enemy, terrified I might fight for custody. “Dad, can we go see Sophie now?” I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but the scar from my C-section began to ache with a phantom pain. Finally, stroke by stroke, I signed my name. I was setting them free. And maybe myself, too. Because of all this, we didn’t visit my mother the day after New Year’s. She called to ask why. When she heard I was getting a divorce, she exploded. “Have you lost your mind? Getting divorced at your age? You think you’re still young and pretty? Who’s going to want you now? Whatever you did wrong, you better go and apologize for it.” My voice choked with tears. “James is having an affair. With a younger woman.” My mother was silent for a second, but then her voice came back, just as sharp. “Then that’s your failure. You couldn’t even keep your own husband from cheating.” I hung up, the endless stream of insults and blame ringing in my ears. She was always like this. She, who had divorced my father for the very same reason, couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy for me. I knew why. She favored her son, and her son-in-law had a powerful job, one that could give her precious boy a good position. All my life, I had tried to make everyone happy. But this time… I’m sorry, Mom. This time, I have to disappoint you. My mother called James next. I don’t know what they said, but when he called me back, his voice was laced with disgust. “You better get your mother under control. If she comes to my office and makes a scene, don’t blame me for what happens.” Then, just before he hung up, I heard him mutter, so quietly I almost missed it. “I hate dealing with nepotism.” The blood ran cold in my veins. I had tried so hard to distance myself from my family, to avoid being a financial drain on him, to prevent him from looking down on me. But back then, James would cup my face in his hands and reassure me. “If it makes you happy, let them leech off us a little. I’m happy to do it for you.” So, even when I did everything I could to refuse my family’s demands, even when I was ready to cut ties completely, he went behind my back and gave my brother a job at his company anyway. I was furious. He just winked playfully. “It’s a small price to pay for your peace of mind. It’s worth it. Don’t be angry.” “No girl really wants to be estranged from her family. I don’t want you to have regrets later.” So he tolerated my brother’s many mistakes, all to secure my "status" within my family. In those moments, I felt the warmth of a conditional, "fake" motherly love. It made me happy, even if it came with strings attached. But now, I was just another case of nepotism. He wasn't wrong. Except it was never what I wanted. His affection hadn’t changed; it had just been redirected. I learned from my mother that he had given Sophie’s entire family jobs at the company. Even her father, who had no real skills, was given a management position. Their combined salaries were double what my brother made. My chest ached with a pulsing pain. A bitter smile touched my lips. The problem wasn’t nepotism. The problem was me. I felt all the strength drain from my body, and I collapsed onto the floor in a helpless heap. How could someone I loved so much change so completely? After I had cried myself out, I dusted off my old resume and started applying for jobs, even entry-level positions. Sweet words are only effective when they’re being spoken. When James and Daniel came home, he saw my resume on the table and looked surprised. “No one is forcing you to go out and work.” My son, ever his father’s mouthpiece, added with a sneer, “Yeah, what can you even do besides stay at home? Just listen to Dad.” No one remembered that he was the one who had convinced me to become a stay-at-home mom. No one saw the years of my devotion and sacrifice. I stared at them, and something inside me snapped. “Enough! You don’t need to worry about what I can or can’t do.” That night, James came to me, seeking to "talk." “Why did you have to lose your temper like that? You scared Daniel.” His warm back pressed against mine, his hands starting to wander. For a fleeting moment, I let myself lean into the familiar scent, the familiar comfort. But reality came crashing down. The thought that these same hands had recently touched someone else filled me with a wave of revulsion. I pulled away sharply, my voice cold. “You’re drunk. And we’re divorced.” James looked at me with amusement. “Still throwing a tantrum? I told you, I never wanted a divorce. I just said that to make you understand your place.” I thought about that, my face a blank mask. What was my place? A wife in name only? A disposable housekeeper? I gathered my things and went to sleep in the guest room. The next day, right after a job interview, I got a call from Daniel’s teacher, asking me to come for a parent-teacher meeting. I didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t get ahold of James. I remembered how I was always the one who dealt with the teachers, and how sensitive Daniel was about being left out. My heart softened, and I went. When I arrived, I saw that someone was already sitting in my place. It was my first time meeting her, Sophie. For a moment, I just stared. She looked like a younger version of me. I had assumed the attraction was based on a similar family background, but I never imagined she would resemble me physically, too. Daniel was beaming, his eyes shining with pride. He had taken all the classroom points I had helped him earn by tutoring him for hours and gifted them all to Sophie. I remembered a time when the whole class was cashing in their points, and the teacher suggested he get something for me. He had mumbled, “But I want to save up for a really big prize.” I had felt a pang of envy then, but I just smiled at the teacher. “It’s okay. As long as he’s happy.” A crushing sense of failure washed over me, and I turned to flee. But as I reached the hallway, I heard a commotion behind me. Daniel was fighting with another child. I stopped in my tracks, held by some invisible thread. Maybe it was a mother’s instinct, maybe something else. I don’t know. But I walked back, and I could finally hear what they were shouting about. The other little boy was explaining to the teacher. “That’s not his real mom! You can’t have two moms! My mommy says that’s wrong!” Daniel shot back, his voice full of righteous anger. “A stepmom is still a mom! I like my stepmom! It’s none of your business!” And then they started fighting. It was the first time Daniel had ever hit anyone. Every word was a razor-sharp blade, slicing me open. His loyalty to her ran that deep. And here I was, worried about him feeling left out. Just then, another child shouted. “Someone’s here!” Everyone turned to look at me. Even Daniel looked uncomfortable. “Mom… I didn’t…” Sophie stepped in front of him protectively, about to offer an explanation. I ignored her. I saw the other child’s parents hurrying over, and I bowed deeply to them. “I am so sorry that my personal situation has caused your child to get hurt. I will cover all medical expenses and offer full compensation.” They took pity on me and refused. One of them just patted my shoulder. “You’ve got this.” I forced a smile, apologized again, and left. I could feel their eyes on my back, but I didn’t turn around. That evening, James came home in a fury. He dragged Daniel with him, whose eyes were red and puffy from crying. “Aren’t you going to explain yourself?” he demanded. I paused in my packing. I couldn’t think of anything to explain. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into his study. “Daniel was crying at school today because of you. Even Sophie is upset. I knew you were faking it. Pretending to be all mature about the divorce, but then you go and pull a stunt like this, showing up at the school just to make a scene.” Listening to his baseless accusations, all I felt was a profound, chilling cold. After all our years together, this was the impression he had of me. Not that he cared. So why should I bother explaining? “Think whatever you want. It’s not like you care about your affair being made public anyway.” James was livid. The next day, my brother was fired. He disposed of my family as easily as flicking away an ant. My mother was incensed. I had just landed a new job, and for the first time in a long while, life felt a little sweet. Then she stormed into my new office without warning. “You tell me what’s going on! Your brother was just fired!” The mask of the caring mother was gone. She grabbed me, dragging me by the arm, demanding an explanation. The curious, judgmental stares of my new colleagues felt like stones being thrown at me. The job I had just secured was gone. “Ms. Zhang, I’m sorry, but perhaps we can reschedule for another time.” I choked back my humiliation, apologized profusely, and let my mother drag me out of the building. She was oblivious to my pain, still chattering on and on, her mind completely consumed by her son’s problems. A total, suffocating despair enveloped me. My ears were ringing, and my chest felt tight, like it was about to collapse. And then, to make it all worse, I saw him. James. Dressed in a sharp suit, standing not far away, holding Sophie’s hand. They were watching me, enjoying the spectacle. It was as if he were silently telling me, This is what you get for not behaving. I was a clown, abandoned by the world, an island of misery. Despair, loneliness… For a fleeting second, I wanted to die. But my mother’s grip yanked me back to reality. She wasn’t afraid of me dying. She was afraid I’d find some happiness without her and my brother. I was too tired to fight anymore. I went limp, letting her fists rain down on me, just like when I was a child. I looked at James and began to laugh, a wild, unhinged sound. This is what love comes to in the end.
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