The day I picked up my husband’s medical diagnosis, I caught him secretly installing a hidden camera in our master bedroom. That night, I watched him through the crack in the door as he made a solemn vow on the phone: "I won't touch her again. I've sent you the account logins and passwords. You can check them anytime." "I've decided to save myself for love." Looking at his flushed, impassioned face, I silently fed his medical report into the paper shredder. Save yourself for love, huh? Well then, you can save yourself for the rest of your life. 01 When the letters [ALS] on Arthur’s medical report came into view, my knees nearly gave out. Three months ago, Arthur had taken a bad fall while hiking. During his hospital stay, I insisted the doctors run a comprehensive full-body workup, just for peace of mind. I never expected a result like this. "Currently, there is no cure for Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. We can only use medication to slow the progression of the disease, but the ultimate outcome is irreversible." The doctor looked at me with deep sympathy. Arthur was barely in his early thirties. Handsome, in his prime, and at the peak of his career. As one of the most prominent divorce attorneys in the state, he was shrewd, decisive, and brutally rational—the elite of the elite. His private life was simple and disciplined; he loved the gym and hiking, and he had extremely high standards for his quality of life. To think that a man like him would eventually become a completely paralyzed ALS patient... I couldn't bear to imagine it. I sat on a bench on the sidewalk, watching the endless stream of traffic for a long time before slowly standing up. I had made up my mind. Since we were husband and wife, we should face everything together. No matter what he became, I would take our son and stand by his side. It was already dark by the time I got home. Our son, Leo, was quietly playing chess in his room. At seven years old, he had reached the level of a five-dan amateur and had even been interviewed by a local news station as a "child prodigy." "Have you eaten?" I asked him gently, trying to compose myself. "Yes. The nanny made ribs and lotus root soup today." He didn't look at me, his eyes glued to the chessboard. "Where's Dad?" "He went for a run." Leo had a quiet personality and spoke concisely. He took after us. Two hours later, I was leaning against the headboard, debating whether or not to tell Arthur about his diagnosis when he finally walked in. Dressed in sleek black running gear, he looked striking and capable. I felt a sudden spike of anxiety. "It's freezing outside, why are you wearing so little?" One of the precautions the doctor had given me today was that ALS patients generate less body heat due to muscle atrophy and must avoid getting cold, as it accelerates the disease's progression. Arthur remained expressionless and said flatly: "This is what you wear when you run." He proceeded to open a small box he was holding, took out a camera, and began setting it up on the dresser opposite the bed. Pointing directly at the bed. I was confused. "Why are you suddenly installing a camera?" "There have been some burglaries in the neighborhood. It's safer to have surveillance." "Aren't you worried about privacy?" I asked hesitantly. After all, Arthur was someone who was obsessively protective of his personal space. He glanced at me and scoffed: "Privacy? Who would be interested in your privacy?" A tangled mess of emotions churned in my chest, but I didn't have the energy to argue with him. When it was time to sleep, he lay down with his back to me, staying on the far edge of the mattress, looking completely exhausted and unwilling to communicate. I sighed softly to myself. He had just wrapped up a highly publicized celebrity divorce case. With the sudden release of pressure, I should let him relax for a bit. In the middle of the night, I woke up suddenly, my heart racing. The space beside me was empty. Arthur wasn't there. A wave of panic hit me, and I got out of bed to find him. Out on the balcony, he was standing in his thin pajamas, talking on the phone in the cold night wind. I grabbed a jacket and started walking toward him. "I won't touch her again..." His hushed voice drifted over, and I stopped in my tracks. "I've sent you the passwords and the accounts. You can log in and check anytime." "I've decided to save myself for love." Through the glass door, I stared blankly at Arthur. His usually cold, indifferent face was currently surging with incredibly intense emotion. Watching his flushed, impassioned face, my brain slowly processed the logic behind his words. For a moment, I felt like I was looking at a stranger. 02 Arthur had always had a very high sex drive. During the day, he was abstinent and disciplined, but at night, he demanded a lot. In recent years, as the pressure on him skyrocketed, he had to be meticulous and airtight in everything he said and did. Consequently, he closed himself off more and more. It was only during our intimate moments at night, when he was breathless and passionate against my ear, that I could catch a glimpse of the boy who used to blush when he looked at me. We met in grad school. He chased me. This cold, arrogant man only had burning eyes and a trembling voice for me. I fell for him quickly. Later, I stayed on at the university as a psychology professor. He started as an associate attorney and climbed his way up to partner, becoming a nationally renowned divorce lawyer making an eight-figure salary. We shared many personality traits: Emotionally stable, pragmatic, objective and calm, valuing a high quality of life, and willing to work hard for our goals. My job was stable and respectable, allowing me to balance work and family; his career was wildly successful, soaring in his field. Married for eight years, we treated each other with mutual respect and support, living in a multi-million dollar penthouse with a worry-free "child prodigy" son. It was, by all accounts, an enviable family. However, about six months ago, he suddenly started changing. He had a habit of going for night runs. It used to be out the door by 8:00 PM, home by 9:00 PM, followed by a shower and exactly half an hour of family time. Like clockwork. But six months ago, he suddenly started leaving at 7:00 PM and not returning until 10:00 PM. When he got back, he always seemed exhausted, going straight to bed after his shower, naturally canceling our family time. I asked him why his night runs were taking so long. He pursed his lips and said flatly, "I hit a wall with a case. Staying out a bit longer helps clear my head." Mental labor can sometimes be more exhausting than physical labor. I understood. Later, he also suddenly seemed to lose interest in sex. I assumed the immense pressure was affecting him physically. Afraid of hurting his pride, I never brought it up, but I was deeply worried about him. That was also why, when he injured himself in a fall, I strongly urged him to take a leave of absence to recover properly, and asked the doctors to run a full-body checkup. But looking at it now, the situation wasn't what I thought at all... I lay back in bed, staring wide-eyed into the darkness, quietly looking at the ceiling. The words he just spoke made him feel like a stranger, and the expression on his face made everything feel surreal. To the point where, having suffered two massive blows in one day, my overwhelming curiosity actually suppressed the sadness and anger I should have been feeling. I was genuinely curious. What kind of woman was on the other end of that phone call? To make Arthur, a man who had trained himself to be ruthlessly rational over the years, act like that? I’ve always been a direct person. The very next night, I slipped a sleeping pill into his glass of warm milk. 03 He slept heavily. I pressed his finger against the sensor and unlocked his phone. Finding the number he had called the night before, I stared at it for a long time before certain neurons finally connected. I had seen this number before. Three months ago, after Arthur fell while hiking and was hospitalized, I went to the police to get the contact information of the person who found him and called 911, wanting to express my gratitude. This was the number the police had given me. I have an excellent memory, especially for numbers. I couldn't be wrong. I had called the number right there in front of the officer. A woman answered. Her voice was gentle and polite, but she sounded like she was in her late thirties or forties. She softly declined my offer to meet, saying there was no need for thanks, and that it was just what any decent person would do. After hanging up, the police officer chuckled and told me that while someone else might have accepted a reward, she definitely wouldn't. I asked why. The officer said he recognized her during questioning. She had once been featured on the news as the "Most Beautiful and Resilient Woman." "She’s had a hard life. Her husband suffered a massive stroke on their wedding day and was completely paralyzed, leaving behind a seven-year-old son from a previous marriage. She never left his side, feeding him and cleaning up after him for thirteen years, and raised that boy all by herself. Her husband passed away last year, and she finally caught a break. Now she runs a little food stall outside the suburban park, selling lamb stew." "A woman with her moral character? She'd never accept your reward money." At the time, I nodded in admiration. "My husband was truly lucky to have been found by her." Now, in the dead of night, I stared at his phone for a long time before opening his photo album. I don't know if Arthur was overconfident or just assumed I completely trusted him, but he hadn't made any effort to hide anything. The screen was filled with photos of a woman. The exact same woman. Under the starry night sky, a brightly lit, steaming food stall. The woman had gentle eyes and a radiant smile, whether she was chopping ingredients, serving soup, or chatting with customers. Every single picture exuded warmth and a sense of peaceful domesticity. Across hundreds of photos, the woman's wardrobe changed from short-sleeved summer dresses to heavy winter coats. The timeline spanned six months. On the third day, I went to the suburban park and sat down at the small stall with a sign reading "Linda's Lamb Stew." I watched the woman named Linda from a short distance away. She was squatting by a planter, speaking softly to a stray cat. Two men standing in front of her stall joked: "Linda, you only have eyes for these little cats and dogs, you aren't even trying to make money anymore." Linda hurriedly stood up, smiling apologetically as she explained gently: "I'm so sorry, I just feel so bad for them. I got too distracted and didn't see you." One of the men waved his hand dismissively. "You're doing a good deed. These strays treat your stall like home because they know you have a soft heart and will always give them food. It's a heartwarming sight, we enjoy seeing it." After the two men left, I walked over. "One bowl of lamb stew, please." Linda said "Sure thing!" and cheerfully served me a bowl. Through the rising steam, I quietly studied her. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, with fine lines branching out from the corners of her eyes. While she lacked the youthful allure of a younger girl, her features were soft and tranquil. Her hair was tied back casually in a low ponytail, with loose strands framing her face, giving her a distinct, gentle femininity. "Sister, it's your first time here. Let me give you a few extra pieces of lamb to try." I sat at a small table, slowly tasting the stew. My mind constantly wrestled with one question. A person like Linda, with her background and moral character... Would she really do something like destroying someone else's family? Would she? 04 My vision blurred for a second, and Linda was sitting down across from me. I was slightly taken aback. She smiled gently, her bright eyes looking right at me: "You're Arthur's wife, aren't you?" I put my spoon down and met her gaze silently. "So you know who I am." She smiled. "I have a good memory. I saw you once on Arthur's phone screen and recognized you." I frowned, remembering. Arthur's lock screen used to be a picture of me and our son. It was only six months ago that he suddenly changed it to a landscape. She lowered her eyes, stayed silent for a few seconds, then looked at me and spoke. "I know why you're here. You probably think Arthur and I are having an affair, right?" I didn't say anything. She slowly looked up, her expression warm and sincere. "Sister, if you trust me... we aren't. Arthur and I are completely innocent. Our only interaction is that he stops by for a bowl of soup after his run." At this, a look of distress crossed her brow. "Later, I noticed he seemed down when he came for his soup. He wouldn't talk to anyone and looked like he was under a lot of pressure, so out of the goodness of my heart, I tried to comfort him a few times. I never expected... sigh, he probably misunderstood." "He started saying some inappropriate things, but I just found it ridiculous. Not only is he a married man, but even if he were single, a man of his status wouldn't look twice at someone like me." "I told him he was just acting on impulse, but he wouldn't listen. In fact, he got increasingly out of line. Sometimes, completely ignoring my wishes, he would call me and say the most absurd things." "Actually, even if you hadn't come looking for me, I was planning on finding you to talk. Arthur must be under too much pressure to act so crazily and irrationally. As his wife, maybe you could help him more." I stared at the layer of white fat slowly congealing around the edge of my bowl. "So what you're saying is, all these things are just Arthur's unrequited obsession, and you've actually been trying to reject him this whole time?" Linda let out a long, mournful sigh and slowly nodded. I looked up at her and asked slowly: "So, him installing a camera in our master bedroom for you to monitor... was that also an impulsive act that he forced upon you against your will?" Linda froze for a second, then quickly said, "I've already scolded him for that! It was completely out of line!" I continued: "What about the time you guys went hiking together? When he fell down the mountain because you said your feet hurt and he tried to carry you... did he force you to go against your will that time too?" Linda's pupils dilated, and she stood up abruptly. "Hiking? I don't know what you're talking about." I looked at her coldly. "Didn't you say you have a good memory? I even called you to thank you that time. Have you forgotten already?" Just then, a customer shouted, "Large order to go!" Linda pressed her lips together and practically jogged back to her stall, her movements stiff as she grabbed a large ladle to serve the soup. "CLANG—" With a massive crash, the entire hot pot full of lamb stew tipped over, spilling steaming broth and meat all over the ground. The boiling soup splashed onto her, and Linda let out a sharp cry, her eyes instantly welling up with tears. The customer cursed, jumped back, muttered about bad luck, and stormed off. Looking at the mess in front of me, I didn't want to get a drop of grease on myself, so I picked up my bag to leave. Red-eyed, she suddenly called out. "I'm sorry!" I stopped and frowned at her. She stood there miserably, sobbing softly. "I'm sorry, I did keep that from you. That day, I was upset because my stepson had been fighting, and he happened to show up. He said going for a hike would cheer me up, so I went. After he fell, I was terrified. I called 911, but I didn't dare meet you because I was afraid you'd misunderstand." Her eyes were bloodshot, tears streaming down her face, and her hands had immediately developed large blisters from the hot soup that splashed on her. She looked utterly pitiful. "Evelyn, what are you doing?!" A furious yell came from behind me. I turned my head to see Arthur sprinting toward us, his face flushed with anger. For a moment, I was stunned. It had been a very, very long time since I had seen such intense emotion on his face. He was wearing the blue suit he only wore for major negotiations, which meant he had rushed over in the middle of an important professional event. Yet when I was in a car accident and called him, he insisted on finishing his negotiation before coming to the hospital. Arthur glared furiously at the mess on the ground, then at the softly sobbing Linda. He pressed his lips tightly together and took a few deliberate steps to her side. He lowered his head, quietly looking at the wretched and helpless woman before him. Suddenly, he pulled her into a fierce embrace. "Are you okay?" "Did she hurt you?" Linda buried her face in his chest and suddenly burst into tears, crying as if she had been deeply wronged. Arthur closed his eyes in pain and said softly: "Don't cry! Linda, don't cry! Remember what you always say? The boat has passed ten thousand mountains. Your suffering is over, completely over! Nothing else will ever make Linda shed a single tear!" From beginning to end. Arthur didn't spare me a single glance. 05 I took out my phone, pointed it at them, and snapped several photos in quick succession. The crisp "click-click" sound echoed. Linda abruptly pulled out of Arthur's embrace, stepping back a few paces, looking regretful and panicked, as if she had just realized what she was doing. She looked at me frantically, scrambling to explain: "I forgot, I didn't mean to, I—" She couldn't finish her sentence. Because I was just looking at her indifferently. "You don't need to say a single word. I'm here." Arthur cut her off in a low voice, turned to me, and instantly regained his usual calm, composed demeanor, looking like the sharp-eyed attorney he was. "Evelyn, whatever it is, we'll talk about it at home. This is very close to your university, and there are many people from your school passing through the park. Making a scene here will make you look bad. Besides..." He glanced at the messy ground. "Bullying a lonely, helpless woman, is that fun for you?" I looked at him coldly, my voice steady. "So you know there are people from my school coming and going here. Yet as my husband, hugging a widow here like dry wood on a fire... did you find that exciting?" Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of shock amidst his indignation. After all, I had always been gentle, elegant, and composed in front of him. He had never seen this side of me before. Even I hadn't. "Even though I'm not the type to just slap you right now, don't try to pin your shit on my head." I turned to Linda, who was silently cleaning up the mess. "Ms. Linda, so you not saying anything... are you actually planning on doing that?" She trembled slightly, and after a few seconds, she slowly lifted her chin and said loudly: "Never mind, stop fighting! It wasn't her, I knocked it over myself. Is that enough?" Red-eyed, she looked at Arthur with grievance: "Arthur, please take your wife and leave now. Don't interfere with my business. I won't be accepting your business from now on either. Please don't come back!" A few customers gradually approached. "What's going on here? Why is it such a mess!" "Linda, is someone bullying you? Who is it?" "Who dares to bully Linda! I'll be the first to teach them a lesson!" Various hostile glares landed on me. Arthur's eyes darkened, and he grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the parking lot. I couldn't shake him off, so I had to follow him. We ran into an acquaintance from the university carrying a basketball, who smiled and greeted me. "Professor Sterling!" I smiled and nodded. "Hello." 06 Once in the parking lot, I forcefully shook off his hand and walked calmly to my own car. As trees flew past on both sides, I drove on the main road, and tears finally began to fall uncontrollably. I gave myself half an hour. Anger, pain, acceptance, calm... Then I turned the steering wheel and headed for the bank. Arthur and I had a joint family account where we both deposited our salaries, dividends, and returns. When we originally opened it, he smiled and told me: "Didn't you always complain that I'm not affectionate enough? This account is for you to manage. I'll just be responsible for putting money into it, as a guarantee for you and our son's future. Are you satisfied with this expression of love?" Over the past few years, the account balance had accumulated to over 18 million. The bank teller informed me with confusion: "This account has been frozen due to a guarantee default. Didn't you know?" My hands and feet suddenly went cold as I slowly asked: "When did this happen?" "Two months ago." Two months ago... That was right after he was discharged from the hospital, when I was completely exhausted from taking care of him and had a high fever for a whole week. While I was practically delirious with sickness, he was already laying the groundwork for divorce and fighting for assets to gain the upper hand. I felt it was both ironic and ridiculous. On the way here, I was actually regretting being too impulsive and showing my cards before having an escape route. But it turned out he had started scheming against me long ago. When a man changes his heart, he can be truly ruthless! It was pitch black by the time I got home. Arthur was sitting on the couch in his pajamas, drinking tea with his usual calm expression. He glanced at me. "I sent Leo to my mom's place. Let's settle things clearly all at once." I sat down and stared at him in silence. He took a sip of tea and slowly began: "I originally planned to discuss this later. After all, I felt somewhat guilty and wanted to let you and our son enjoy a happy life for as long as possible. However, since you chose to go and cause a scene today, I can only give you what you want." "Evelyn, I've fallen in love with someone else. Let's get a divorce!" I was extremely calm, even giving him a slight smile. "Arthur, can you tell me exactly what you love about her so much that you chose to betray a 10-year relationship and abandon your wife and child?" He frowned slightly. "If you insist on asking for details..." After a moment of silence, he spoke slowly in a gentle and emotional tone: "Because of my work over the past few years, I've seen too much deception in marriages. I lost a normal understanding and judgment of love and marriage long ago. But after meeting her, I realized that there really are women like this. Purely out of love and responsibility, she didn't hesitate to dedicate the best ten-plus years of her youth. She brought vitality to my heavy, stagnant, suffocating life." "You ask what I love about her? I've asked myself that question countless times." "Because she's gentle, kind, and strong. Because life gave her hardship, yet she stubbornly bloomed like a flower from the mud. Because of every cold night, the bowl of hot soup she handed me." As he finished this long speech, emotions surged across his face, seemingly having moved himself. The room fell into silence. After a long while, I clicked my tongue softly. "So the soup the nanny makes isn't hot? You have to go outside to get a taste of something fishy?" Arthur froze, his face instantly turning cold. "Evelyn, you are a sophisticated egoist. You wouldn't understand this kind of emotion." I nodded. "Since that's the case, you leave with nothing, and I agree to the divorce." A distinct look of mockery appeared on his face. "Not to mention there's no such thing as 'leaving with nothing' in the law. Taking a step back, Linda and I have had absolutely no physical relationship. I'm not even the at-fault party." I gazed at him, silent for a long time. Can a person really change this completely? Flipping out so ruthlessly, as if suddenly swapping souls! Arthur seemed to guess what I was thinking and slightly furrowed his brow: "You don't need to act like this. When feelings are gone, divorce is the natural next step. When I fell down the mountain and was waiting for rescue, I thought it through clearly. Life is short, and I don't want to cower and be afraid to love. Even if I bear infamy and condemnation, I have to risk everything to truly live once." "Evelyn, don't forget what I do for a living. I have too many methods; it's just a matter of whether I want to use them on you or not." I started to laugh softly. "You haven't used them on me? Didn't you already use them? Playing dirty tricks like freezing the account, aren't you afraid of desecrating your noble and pure love!" Arthur glanced at me and said lightly: "I see you went to check the account. It's nothing, just standard operating procedure, just to prevent any unexpected twists during the divorce." "I've already drafted the divorce agreement. I keep the money and our son, and you get the house. Of course, you'll have to handle the remaining mortgage yourself." "From the perspective of financial contribution to the family, this proposal is already exceedingly generous—" "Thud!" I grabbed the ashtray on the table and hurled it at him. He covered his forehead. Bright red blood flowed out from between his fingers.
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