At dinner, my husband suddenly asked me: "What would you do if I met someone... better than you?" I was silent for a moment. "Then you should be with her. We can get a divorce." What he didn't know was... I had already seen him. Earlier today. I watched him frantically try to comfort that girl, her eyes red from crying. I heard him say, "Don't cry. I'll give you a future." 1 He put his chopsticks down. His face went pale, then twisted into a difficult smile. "Claire, I was just kidding." It wasn't a joke. I knew. I knew what his love felt like. Which is how I knew, without a doubt, that what he felt for that girl was real. Earlier today, at the hospital, the doctor's bored expression softened when he read my chart. He lowered his voice. "Don't be scared. It's not late-stage. If you start treatment, this is manageable." I was walking out with the diagnosis in my hand when I saw them. Mark's arm was injured. The girl was looking at it, her eyes filling with tears. "Why did I meet you so late?" she whispered. "I don't even have the right to take care of you." Mark looked frantic. "Summer, don't cry," he said, reaching for her. Blood seeped through his new bandage. "I'll give you a future." The words hung in the air. He froze, as if he'd surprised himself. But the girl believed him. She looked up, her nose red. "Really?" Mark just frowned, and said nothing. I didn't stay to watch the rest. I know Mark. As long as we were married, he wouldn't physically cheat. But his heart? I can't control his heart. 2 I wanted to know. What kind of girl was "better" than me? I found her in his phone. Summer. I had to see her for myself. I had to see the person who so easily destroyed eight years. We survived long-distance. We survived the pandemic. We survived being so broke we split a single instant ramen for dinner. But we couldn't survive a "better person." I found her on the local college campus. She was exactly what you'd expect. Young. Bright. An elderly janitor was struggling with a heavy trash bin. The bag split, and dozens of empty soda cans clattered across the pavement. Summer, in her cream-colored coat, ran over and started picking them up. She helped the woman get the new bag in place and walked with her for a block. I followed, like a creep. Suddenly, footsteps. A figure moved fast, blocking my view. It was Mark. He was standing between me and the girl, his hands half-raised. His lips were trembling. "Claire... it's not her fault." Not her fault. Then whose fault was it? Mine? The girl, Summer, finally noticed me. She looked at me, then quickly looked away, her face full of shame. 3 In a coffee shop. Mark sat across from me, his eyes full of pain. "Claire, I..." He couldn't say it. I was waiting. Waiting to see if, now that I knew, he would choose to end it with her, or end it with me. He finally, painfully, got the words out. "Claire... I... I don't think I love you anymore." I didn't say anything. My body betrayed me first. My eyes burned. He looked helpless. "Don't cry..." He stared at me, then slid the napkin dispenser across the table. He let out a long, heavy sigh. "We've been together since we were eighteen, Claire. Eight years. I know I'm an asshole. I'm disgusting. But... in eight years... the love just... it turned into family. Into obligation. We can't fight that. It just happens." "And her?" I asked. He was silent. "Maybe that will fade, too," he said. "But... I don't want to lie to you right now." He looked up, his voice bitter. "I haven't done anything. I haven't slept with her. If you want... we can stay married. We can... keep going. But all I have left to give you is... responsibility. And the rest of my time." How could I describe that feeling? It wasn't just sadness. It was... watching yourself drown. You know you're going to die. You just have to wait for the water to fill your lungs. We sat in silence. Finally, I spoke. "Let's set a date. To file for divorce." 4 It was evening when I left the cafe. The sunset was a blinding, angry red. Across the street, someone was hovering by the bus stop. Mark saw her instantly and sprinted across the road, dodging a car. The girl flinched, her face pale. "Summer, what are you doing here?" he said, his voice rough. "I told you to go back to your dorm. Have you been waiting this whole time?" She glanced at me, then dropped her head. "I... I was worried about you..." His whole face softened. "Hey. Don't be." A wave of nausea, so sharp and acidic, hit me. I thought I was already at rock bottom. I thought I couldn't feel any worse. I was wrong.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "385886", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel