My Brother Urged My Husband to Cheat, So I Obliged

1: 1

My husband and I had just lain down to be together when my brother kicked the door open, an arm slung around some girl covered in tattoos and reeking of cigarettes.

Brother-in-law, all these years, still the same two moves with my sister? Doesn't it get old?

My brother's private life was a mess. Every few days he brought a different woman home, and he was always egging my husband on to go chase a thrill with him.

Cold-voiced, I told him to get out.

"Play that hard and sooner or later it'll cost you your life."

But my husband brushed it off.

"Don't be so dramatic. He just likes to have fun. He's not stupid."

After that, the women my brother brought home got stranger and stranger.

My husband complained out loud, but his eyes lingered longer and longer.

I said something a few times, and my brother pointed right in my face and cursed:

"Kill the mood one more time and see if I don't smack you."

He raised his hand, and my husband didn't stop him. He just frowned, annoyed.

"You're a doctor. That doesn't mean you get to look at everyone like they're diseased."

I stopped arguing. I only made him sign a marital fidelity agreement.

If either party is unfaithful, we divorce immediately.

The party at fault gives up all shared marital property and leaves with nothing.

My husband laughed at me for making a fuss over nothing and signed it without a second thought.

A few days later, my brother sent him a photo.

This one's really something. Tonight, together?

My husband stared at the photo for a long time, then finally got up to change.

"A friend's asking me over to watch the World Cup. I'll be right back."

I opened the test report the hospital had just updated.

The patient in that report was the exact woman in the photo.

HIV viral load extremely high. Already progressed into full-blown AIDS.

I didn't stop him. I only answered calmly: "Go."

1.

This wasn't the first time my brother had trampled every boundary.

Two weeks earlier, he'd slept with a woman in the marriage bed my husband and I shared.

I'd brought a client back on short notice to grab some files, and the moment the client pushed open the bedroom door,

there were clothes strewn all over the floor, along with a scattering of vile little toys.

The client screamed in fright, and my brother had the nerve to yell at us:

"You don't know how to knock before you come in? Didn't your parents teach you anything?"

The client's face went dark right there and walked straight out.

The next day, the story was all over the company.

Everyone assumed it was my husband fooling around at home.

I explained it countless times and still got whispered about behind my back. Even clients I'd worked with for years began pulling away from me.

But my brother, far from apologizing, thought I was overreacting.

After that, he used my credit card to treat women to dinner,

took people out overnight in my car, even handed off my bags and jewelry to women he'd just met.

I hit my limit and told him to move out at once.

Instead, he kicked over my suitcase, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and shoved me hard against the wall.

"Who do you think you are, telling me to leave?"

"I'm the only son in this family. Mom and Dad handed me to you before they died. You're supposed to support me for the rest of my life!"

"This house is my brother-in-law's. I'll live here as long as I want. Since when do you get a say?"

My forehead was split and bleeding from the hit. I pulled out my phone to call the police.

But my husband snatched it right out of my hand.

"We're all family. How would it look if this blew up?"

"Your parents have only been gone a few years. You really want to put their only son away and leave them no peace even in the grave?"

I stared at him, unable to believe it.

"When they were alive, they never treated me like a daughter. Why should I look after their son?"

Growing up, every good thing to eat or drink in that house went to my brother.

I'd cook for him while burning with fever, and if he so much as scraped his skin, Mom and Dad could stand there cursing me all night.

To fund his spending, they forced me to drop out of school and work.

When I refused, they beat me so badly I didn't dare wear short sleeves for half a month.

Later I got far away from home. On my own, I studied, worked, and bought a house in this city, and only then did I finally break free of them.

But after Mom and Dad died, my brother showed up at my door with a will.

The will didn't leave me a single cent. It only said that I, as his older sister, was to take good care of him.

From then on, he treated this place like his own home.

Ate my food, lived in my house, spent my money, and ordered me around like a servant.

Every time I was about to lose my temper, my husband would step in front of me and plead, patient and earnest:

"However much they favored him, they're still the parents who gave birth to you and raised you."

"Your brother's still young, and he doesn't have a job. If you don't look after him, who will?"

"His temper's a little rough, sure, but he's not a bad person at heart."

"You're his older sister. Can't you cut him a little more slack?"

I looked at my husband, and all those words jammed up in my chest.

Back then, it was exactly this gentle, guileless look of his that had drawn me to him.

He didn't understand what I'd suffered in that house, and he had no idea just how shameless my brother really was. That was why he kept pleading for him, over and over.

For my husband's sake, I gave my brother one month.

Within that month, job or no job, he had to move out.

But the month passed, and not only did he not look for work, the women he brought home only multiplied.

And my husband complained out loud while his eyes lingered longer each time.

Until just now.

I watched with my own eyes as he stared at the reeking club girl in my brother's arms, unwilling to pull his gaze away.

I finally had to admit it.

Maybe I'd had it wrong from the very start.

He wanted to keep my brother around, and it wasn't out of kindness.

2: 2

I grabbed the vase off the nightstand and hurled it down hard at my brother's feet.

"Get out!"

The vase shattered across the floor.

Morris flinched back a step, then jabbed a finger at me and spat,

"Crazy bitch!"

With that, he wrapped an arm around the woman and slammed the door on his way out.

Not long after, the muffled, frantic sounds started up from next door.

Ferdinand was still on top of me, his breathing rougher now than before.

All I felt was sick.

I reached up and pushed him off, my voice cold.

"I'm tired. Let's just sleep."

Ferdinand lifted his head, blank, his eyes full of hurt.

"What's wrong?"

"Did I do something wrong? Make you angry?"

Then, like something had just occurred to him, he grinned and pulled me back in.

"Or do you want to try something different too?"

He said it like he was expecting praise.

"Last month I was just too worn out, that's why I didn't take good care of you."

"These past few days I took time off on purpose. Even worked on my legs. Saved up my energy."

"Today I'll definitely leave you satisfied."

The words stuck in my throat.

For a moment I honestly couldn't tell whether his heat right now came from all this preparing he'd done for me, or from the way that woman had just gotten him worked up.

I pushed him away again.

"I really am a little tired. Next time."

The smile faded from Ferdinand's face.

Half-hurt, half-annoyed, he muttered,

"Fine. I'll take care of it myself, then."

He threw back the covers, pushed the door open, and walked out.

I lay there in bed, listening to the sounds beyond the door, everything churning inside me.

I didn't know if I was afraid of what I might hear.

Or hoping to hear the sound that would prove what I suspected.

A few minutes later, to my relief, the toilet flushed in the bathroom.

I let out a slow breath.

But the next second, I saw Ferdinand's phone lit up on the nightstand.

On the screen was a search page from some platform.

Right at the top sat a question:

Married a year, and it's getting more and more dull.

Wife just lies there in bed like a dead fish. I want to try something dirty, something wild. What do I do?

Half of me went cold in an instant.

I'd just reached out to see the post clearly when the bedroom door swung open.

Ferdinand came back in trailing a chill.

I pulled my hand back at once and shut my eyes.

He slid under the covers and wrapped his arms tight around me from behind, his voice back to its usual gentleness.

"I'll let you off this time."

"But next time you're paying me back double."

I swallowed down the nausea and said nothing.

Only when his breathing behind me had gone slow and steady did I gently lift his hand from my waist and feel around for his phone.

But the search page was already gone.

The browsing history was wiped clean too.

As if everything just now had been nothing but a trick of my mind.

The next day, I arranged to meet Natalie Fox, my best friend, the lawyer.

The moment I sat down, I came straight to the point.

"I want to divorce Ferdinand Gilbert."

3: 3

Natalie nearly knocked over her coffee.

"Ferdinand cheated on you?"

"Not yet."

I paused.

"But he might, soon."

Natalie looked half amused, half exasperated.

"What, are you a fortune-teller now?"

I told her what had happened the night before.

When I finished, she frowned and stayed quiet for a long time.

"Ferdinand wouldn't do that, would he?"

"Aren't you overthinking this? How much Ferdinand cares about you, we've all seen it."

My eyes flickered. I thought back to that time.

Back when my depression flared up,

he'd come rushing through a downpour to be with me, standing guard outside my door all night, afraid to leave in case I did something to myself.

After we married, he stayed gentle and attentive too.

We'd even been planning to have a baby lately.

To prepare, he quit smoking and drinking, exercised on schedule every day, went to the hospital for checkups on his own, and kept better track of my ovulation than I did.

Natalie took my hand.

"Your birth parents favored their son over you. That left you with too many scars."

"Now your brother has barged back into your life, and maybe he's just stirred that old anxiety back up."

"Get your brother out first, then watch for a while. You might find you were only overthinking it."

I was silent for a moment, then said anyway,

"Draw up two agreements for me first."

"A divorce agreement."

"And a marital property agreement. Whoever cheats forfeits all shared marital assets and walks away with nothing."

Natalie stared at me for a long moment, but in the end she didn't argue.

"All right."

That evening, I came home with the agreements.

I'd barely pushed the door open when I saw my brother had brought another woman back.

She wore next to nothing, her eyes glassy, her arms covered in a dense scatter of needle marks and large ulcers that hadn't healed.

She was drinking from my cup, one foot up on the couch.

My face darkened.

"Take her out of here."

My brother rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"Now what?"

"Someone in her condition is high-risk. She could be carrying an infectious disease!"

"How you want to have your fun is your business, but don't bring her into this house."

My brother shot to his feet and raised his hand to hit me.

"Who the hell are you calling diseased?"

Ferdinand was standing right there, and instead of stopping him, he only frowned, irritated.

"You're a doctor, but you can't treat everyone you meet like they're sick."

"It's her first time here. How can you say something so ugly to her?"

Backed up now, my brother cursed even worse.

"Walking around with that dead face all day. No wonder your husband takes one look at you and loses interest."

"You really think every woman in the world is as boring as you?"

With that, he threw an arm around the woman and slammed the door on his way out.

Only then did Ferdinand come over and hold me.

"There now, don't be angry."

"Who told you to run your mouth and set him off just now?"

I looked at him for a long moment, then set the agreements I'd prepared on the table.

"Sign these."

Ferdinand glanced down, and his face darkened at once.

"What is this supposed to mean?"

"You don't actually think I'm like your brother, do you? Interested in those filthy women?"

"I take care of you in every way, I stand up for your only living relative, and this is how you doubt me?"

I said calmly,

"If you're never going to cheat, then signing or not makes no difference."

"Or is it that you don't dare?"

Ferdinand stared at me for a few seconds, then laughed from sheer fury.

"I looked out for your brother only because I love you, because I wanted to carry out your parents' last wish for you."

"Fine. If you insist on proving it with something like this, then I'll sign."

He picked up the pen and signed his name without hesitation.

"Satisfied?"

I put the agreements away and said nothing.

From that day on, it was as if Ferdinand really did set out to prove himself, and he stopped covering for my brother.

The next time my brother brought a woman back, for the first time Ferdinand's face hardened and he drove them out.

"If you want to fool around, do it somewhere else."

"Dragging all kinds of people into the house. Aren't you afraid of filthing the place up?"

He even went and found a place for my brother himself, pushing him to move out as soon as possible.

"You're not young anymore. You can't keep living at your sister's forever."

"The month is long past. You should've been gone already!"

Watching him take such a firm stance, so rare for him, I finally breathed easier.

Maybe I really had been overthinking it.

Until the day I happened to see the message my brother had sent him.

Ferdinand, this place you found is great, and it's close to yours too. Easy for you to come over and have some fun later.

I'll give you a shout when I've got good stuff.

My heart went cold, bit by bit.

But Ferdinand hadn't replied.

All I could do was tell myself, over and over.

Maybe it was just my brother rambling, talking to himself.

But over the next few days, Ferdinand kept staring blankly at his phone.

Sometimes his eyes went vacant at the screen, other times he'd take the phone into the bathroom and stay in there for half an hour.

Yet every time I checked, there wasn't a single reply in his chat with my brother.

Until the night of the World Cup final.

We'd agreed long ago to watch it together at home.

The match hadn't even started when Ferdinand's phone, lying on the table, suddenly lit up.

It was a message from my brother.

This one's really top-shelf.

Looks innocent, but she's wild, up for anything. You go first!

Ferdinand stared at those lines, his eyes fixed.

For the next ten-odd minutes he couldn't sit still, picking up his phone and putting it down again and again.

Finally, he shot up and grabbed his coat.

"A coworker asked me to watch the World Cup final with him. I really couldn't turn him down."

"I'll head over there. Finish the game and get to bed early."

4: 4

My chest went cold. I stared at him and asked,

"You're sure it's a coworker asking you out?"

"Then how come the message I saw come in was from my brother?"

Ferdinand's face changed in an instant. He shot back, furious,

"So you'd really rather I went off to some other woman?"

"Is that it? In your eyes I'm just as filthy as your brother?"

I said nothing.

But he acted like I'd struck a nerve, his voice climbing higher.

"Your brother was right about you after all."

"Nobody wanted you as a kid, you had it rough, so now you dump all that bitterness on everyone else."

"You can't stand the sight of him, and now you've decided to suspect me too."

"I treat you this well, and you spend every day guarding against me like I'm some thief."

"No wonder your parents didn't want you. Anyone who ends up with a person like you is cursed!"

Every sentence landed exactly where it hurt most.

I looked at this man who had once held me and said he'd spend his whole life healing me.

And suddenly he was a stranger.

When I still didn't speak, Ferdinand only grew more righteous.

"Isn't it me you suspect?"

"Then call my coworker, right now!"

"If you're not too ashamed, go ahead and ask!"

I looked at his face, flushed red with guilt, and slowly pressed the screen dark.

Just moments ago, I'd already pulled up the information on the woman in that photo.

Not long ago, she'd registered as a patient in our infectious disease department.

Her test results had only just come back, with multiple high-risk markers off the charts.

Whether or not I still had feelings for Ferdinand, I'd meant to make one thing clear to him.

We could divorce.

The marriage could end here.

But that woman, he absolutely could not touch.

And now, for the sake of a little so-called thrill, he was willing to attack me with the most painful part of my childhood.

He'd even turned my old depression into a weapon to humiliate me.

Suddenly I didn't want to say anything at all.

I looked at him, calm.

"I trust you."

"Go."

Ferdinand froze for a second.

He probably hadn't expected me to give in so easily.

He stood where he was, a flicker of guilt crossing his face, like he couldn't quite save face either.

A few seconds passed before he said, forcing a casual tone,

"Don't worry."

"I'll send you my location when I get there, keep you posted the whole time."

I nodded.

"Fine."

Ferdinand visibly relaxed, grabbed his coat, and hurried out the door.

The moment it shut, I called a moving company.

In under half an hour, several workers showed up.

My clothes, my documents, my jewelry, my work files, all packed into boxes and carried out.

As for Ferdinand's things, I had them boxed up with the divorce papers and sent by same-day courier straight to his office.

I'd paid the down payment on this place. I'd been the one covering the mortgage all these years.

Only my name was on the deed.

I called a real estate agent and listed it below market price.

The agent was a little surprised.

"Ms. Gilbert, this place is in a great location."

"Priced this low, you'll lose a fair amount of money. Are you sure you don't want to think it over?"

I looked at the empty living room and said evenly,

"No."

"I just want it sold as fast as possible."

Once the agent confirmed the details, the listing went up quickly.

When it was all done, I put the signed marital property agreement into my bag.

Then I switched off the lights, dragged out the last suitcase, and walked out of this home.