After My Husband Fell In Love with His Secretary

After the miscarriage, Ethan only touched me once a month, always during my ovulation period.

One day, out of boredom, I scrolled through my phone and stumbled upon an online account where a secretary documented her private moments with her boss.

My boss comes to me every time after being with his old, overweight wife and transfers $5,000 as compensation. Im so happy~

"Ugh, the boss had to touch that fat wife of his again. He said she made him feel sick and he almost vomited. This time he sent me $50,000 as a consolation~"

The comments were full of people mocking the bosss wife, encouraging the secretary to keep milking her rich lover for everything he was worth. But as I read further, something gnawed at me.

The dates of these payments... They matched the same days as my ovulation.

That night, Ethan came home late, his breath heavy with the stench of alcohol. I had been lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, when he stumbled into the bedroom. He made his way to my side of the bed and gave me a shove through the covers.

"Emily," he slurred, his voice thick with irritation, "what the hell are you doing asleep? Im not even home yet and youre already in bed? Get up and make me something to sober up."

I groaned, turning over slowly and muttered under my breath, "Make yourself some honey water."

What? he barked, not fully understanding me.

I sat up a little and raised my voice, feeling an unusual wave of defiance wash over me. You heard me. Youve got two handsmake your own damn honey water.

Ethan stood there, stunned, as if Id slapped him. In the past, I wouldve jumped out of bed at his demand, eager to avoid another argument. But tonight, I couldnt care less.

He narrowed his eyes, his expression darkening. After a long pause, he pulled something out of his coat pocket and tossed it onto the bed beside me.

Well, I brought you a gift back, he sneered, maybe thisll get you out of bed.

I looked at the box in front of me. Inside was a piece of cake, its buttercream frosting melted and smeared along the sides of the box. It was obvious that he hadnt cared about it, just as he hadnt cared about me for a long time.

I stared at the cake for a moment, then looked up at him. I havent eaten dessert in five years, Ethan. You know I have insulin resistance.

His eyes flickered for a brief second, but then his face hardened. "So what? Is that your excuse now? You cant even give me a child and now you cant make me a simple drink? What the hell are you good for, Emily?"

I flinched at his words but stayed silent. His voice grew louder as his anger spilled over. "Useless. You cant even do the bare minimum anymore."

He turned and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. The sound of the shower running filled the room, but I barely heard it over the numb buzzing in my head.

I had been expecting him to soften, to say something comforting, maybe even apologize. But why did I still expect anything from him?

When he came back, his hair wet and towel slung over his shoulder, he climbed into bed beside me without a word. Then, suddenly, his hand slid over my body, tugging at the hem of my nightshirt.

A cold wave of anger and revulsion shot through me. I jerked away from him, my voice trembling as I said, "Stop it."

Ethan blinked, confused. "Whats wrong with you now?" he snapped. "You do remember todays your ovulation day, dont you?"

The words sent a chill down my spine. For the past two years, ever since the miscarriage, Ethan only touched me on these specific days. He called it "improving efficiency," like I was some machine that needed to work better.

But tonight, I couldnt go through with it. Not this time.

Im tired, I whispered. I dont want to.

His face twisted with disbelief and then he gave a low, mocking laugh. Tired? Tired from what? Sitting around all day doing nothing? You dont have a job, you dont have kidswhat could you possibly be tired from?

I felt his eyes sweep over me and I knew what was coming next. He sat up, looking me over with disgust. Look at yourself, Emily. Whens the last time you actually looked in the mirror? Youve put on weight and let me tell you, its not flattering. Youve got rolls around your waist and trust me, not many men would be willing to touch you like this. You should be grateful I even bother.

His words were like poison, but tonight, they didnt cut the way they used to. I felt... nothing. No sadness, no angerjust a hollow emptiness.

Then dont touch me, I said quietly, I dont want your pity.

Ethan stared at me, speechless for a moment, as if he couldnt believe what he was hearing. His mouth opened to fire back something cruel, but before he could, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing.

Dont come begging me later when you realize what a mistake youve made, he hissed, snatching his phone and storming out of the room.

As the door clicked shut behind him, I lay there in the silence, staring up at the ceiling. From the hallway, I could hear his voicesoft, but distinct. He was laughing.

When was the last time he had laughed like that with me?

Who was on the other end of that phone call now?

I reached under my pillow and pulled out my phone, my heart pounding. A notification popped up from the account I had been following.

"Ahhh! So happy! Boss didnt even touch the fat old wife tonight! He saved himself just for me!!!"*

Three exclamation marks. They felt like daggers, driving the last shred of denial out of me.

It wasnt a coincidence. The boss who sent his secretary thousands of dollars every time he slept with his wife... was my husband of five years.

Ethan.

At first, I thought I might be overreacting. After all, there are only thirty days in a month and billions of women in the world. It wasnt so strange that the dates coincided with my ovulation period. It couldve been a coincidence.

But no matter how much I tried to convince myself, a growing sense of dread gnawed at me. I had to test itjust once. I had to know the truth.

And now that the ugly truth was staring me in the face, strangely, I felt calm.

Ding.

The account updated again.

This time, it was a screenshot of a video call. The screen showed the secretarys pale, exposed skin and the chiseled muscles of a mans chest and abs. The caption read:

Late-night surprise! Boss called me on video! Look at those musclesso sexy, right? Tomorrow in the office, Im going to... hehehehe~

I stared at the image, feeling cold wash over me. My hands moved without thinking, quickly taking a screenshot and saving it.

I remembered the last time I tried to video call Ethan while he was away on a business trip. How did he respond?

Oh, right. He scolded me for being an "inconsiderate housewife" who didnt understand how precious his time was. And yet, I had confirmed with his secretary beforehand that he was resting in his hotel with no other plans. But Ethan had still been furiousso furious, in fact, that he fired that secretary for sharing his schedule with me.

I never contacted his new secretary after that. I didnt want to risk getting someone else fired because of me.

Until today.

Today, I stumbled upon this account and now everything made sense. Ethans heart had strayed long ago.

I stood frozen in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection as if I didnt recognize the woman staring back. We had known each other for ten years, been married for five and somehow, in the blink of an eye, I had become a woman he found so repulsive that he felt sick even being near me.

When did that happen? When did I become this "old fat woman" in his eyes?

I wasnt sure how much time had passed when Ethan returned to the bedroom. There was a smug smile on his face, the kind that told me hed just had his ego stroked.

He barely glanced at me before he said, Tomorrow morning, I want homemade pan-fried buns. The stuff you buy outside is dirty. Get up early and make enough for two and bring it to the office.

For two? I blinked and then the realization hit me like a punch in the gut.

He wanted me to make breakfast for him and his lover.

My husband, the man I had walked through fire for, was asking me to wake up early and make a meal for the woman he was cheating on me with.

I felt something inside me shatter, a part of me that had held on to the hope that maybe, somehow, we could fix this. But now, it was beyond repair.

I turned to face him, my voice eerily calm. Didnt you once say that pan-fried buns are too greasy and only for the lower class? You used to kick me out of the house if I so much as mentioned them. When did you suddenly develop a taste for them?

Annoyance flashed across Ethans face and his tone immediately sharpened. Why are you talking back? Just do as I say. You have a pretty comfortable life staying home all day. Your job is to take care of me, Emily!

In the past, I would have trembled at his tone, rushed to apologize and done everything I could to avoid his anger. But tonight, I didnt flinch.

Instead, I smiledcold and detached. Must be hard for you, dealing with me every day, this old fat woman, as you like to call me. Ethan... I paused, meeting his eyes directly. Lets get a divorce.

The next morning, I made breakfast for one.

Ethan came down and frowned at the table, glaring at the soy milk and doughnuts I had prepared. He hated that combination, always said it was too plain for his taste. He knocked on the table impatiently.

This is the only time Im letting this slide, he growled. Dont let it happen again.

I didnt say a word. Even in the past, when Id been sick with a high fever, he would drag me out of bed to make him coffee. Now, all I did was nod silently.

He stormed out the door, but before leaving, he angrily threw a porcelain sculpture to the floor, shattering it into pieces. It was a souvenir from our honeymoon, a memory from a time when we were happy.

He was sending me a message. He could destroy everything we once held dear, just like that. And if I kept pushing him, he could do the same to our marriage.

Last night, when I had first mentioned divorce, Ethan had been stunned for only ten seconds before he recovered, scoffing at me.

Divorce? Over breakfast? Are you out of your mind, Emily? he spat. Do you even know how many women would kill to be in your position right now? Ive given you a life most people can only dream of and you have the nerve to ask for a divorce?

He sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. Dont forget, you still owe me a child. Who do you think you are to demand a divorce when you cant even give me that?

His words were meant to hurt, to break me down as they always did. I saw the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes when he noticed my face falter. But this time, the cracks were different.

Two years ago, his father had been diagnosed with cancer. The doctors said he only had a year left to live. At the time, I was two months pregnant and that child became the hope that kept his father fighting through the treatments.

But then I lost the baby.

And after that, everything crumbled. His fathers condition deteriorated rapidly and he passed away just months later. Ethan never forgave me. He blamed me for not being able to protect our baby, for making his father die with unfulfilled regrets.

I bore his hatred silently, day after day. But he, the so-called victim, seemed to forget that no one suffered more than a mother who had lost her child.

That morning, after he left, I went to the gym and hired a personal trainer. Over the last two years, I had gained some weight while preparing for pregnancy, but I wasnt the "old fat woman" Ethan made me out to be.

After sweating out the pain, I began to think about life after the divorce. I started updating my resume, preparing to re-enter the workforce. I couldnt be isolated from the world any longer.

As I browsed job listings, my phone rang.

Hello, is this Mrs. Parker? This is Mr. Parkers secretary, Chloe. He has a dinner meeting tonight. Could you please bring his light blue Herms tie to the restaurant? And dont take too long.

She hung up before I could even respond.

Chloe knew who I was, but the arrogance in her voice was unmistakable. She wasnt trying to hide it; she wanted me to know her place in Ethans life. She expected me to fight, to make a scene.

But that was exactly what she wantedto push me out of the picture.

And if thats what she wanted, then so be it.

As soon as I stepped into the venue, I was intercepted by Ethan. His eyes darkened as he spotted me and he quickly blocked my path. His voice was low and laced with frustration as he leaned in close, ensuring no one else could hear.

This is not a place for a housewife like you, he hissed. Get out before you embarrass me.

He paused, then his expression shifted to smug arrogance as he crossed his arms over his chest. Heh, last night you were shouting about wanting a divorce and now here you are, chasing after me. Whats the matter? Cant bear to lose me? Realized that no one else would want you?

His words dripped with condescension, but I didnt flinch. Instead, I calmly looked past him and waved at the woman standing just behind him. She had been eyeing me curiously, as if sizing me up from the moment I walked in.

Ms. Chloe? I called out, my voice steady.

Ethans eyes widened slightly and he followed my gaze to his secretary. His brows furrowed as a huff of irritation escaped him. Emily, he snapped, youre still going behind my back to contact my secretary? Are you trying to get her fired too, like the last one?

I held up the paper bag I had brought with me and extended it toward Chloe. Fired? I raised an eyebrow at Ethan. Are you really willing to let her go?

His expression faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. W-Why would you think that? he stammered, clearly caught off guard.

Meanwhile, Chloe had taken the bag from me and was pulling out the silk tie I had brought. She held it up against her light blue dress and then pouted playfully at Ethan. Mr. Parker, you didnt send me a photo of your outfit this morning. I wasnt able to coordinate our outfits like usual. Thats why I asked Mrs. Parker to bring the tie. See? It matches perfectly.

Her tone was flirtatious and bold and I could see the way she reveled in the tension between Ethan and me. She wasnt hiding her intentions at allbecause Ethan had given her the confidence to act this way.

Ethan shot me a quick glance, clearly expecting a reaction. But when he saw my calm, unaffected expression, he looked almost confused.

Unfazed, he reached out and took Chloes hand, guiding it to his neck. Come on, he said smoothly, you tie it for me. You know how I like the cross knot. Not like her, he added with a dismissive wave in my direction, who only knows how to tie that old-fashioned Windsor knot. Shes just as boring as her knots.

Chloes face lit up with pride and she practically preened. In front of everyone, she boldly hooked her fingers around the tie and yanked Ethan toward her. Their faces were so close that their noses nearly touched and I could see the heat between them as their breaths mingled.

As I watched the scene play out, I felt a sense of detachment wash over me. Half a year ago, I remembered Ethan suddenly started taking photos every morning after he got dressed. At the time, I hadnt thought much of it. I assumed he was just proud of his appearance.

But now I realized the truthhe had been sending those photos to Chloe, making sure their outfits were coordinated, like a matching couple. And the most absurd part? I had been the one carefully picking out his clothes every night, thinking I was helping him put his best foot forward.

It was revolting. Absolutely revolting.

Taking a deep breath, I reached into my purse, pulled out a small key and held it out to Chloe.

Her eyes widened and her face flushed with excitement. She stared at the key like it was a winning lottery ticket.

Ms. Chloe, I said, my voice cold but polite, this is the key to the front door of our house. From now on, you can come directly to the house to help Ethan pick out his clothes. And while you're there, you can check if the decor is to your liking. Once we finalize the divorce, feel free to move in.

Chloes face froze, the excitement draining away in an instant. She blinked, stunned, clearly not expecting that turn of events.

The next second, she looked at my husband.