Husband Cheat Chapter 8
Hours bled into each other as I methodically packed my luggage. By the time Adrian got home, I had almost finished. I thought he would not be coming home tonight, but to my surprise, he returned quite early.
“Madeline,” he stammered, his voice laced with a mixture of confusion and dawning realization. “What are you doing?” He quickly walked over and stared at the suitcase spread out on the bed. “Did you find the child?” I asked, continuing to fold clothes in practiced efficiency.
He ignored my question, snatching the clothes from my hands. “I said, what are you doing? Why are you packing??” The desperation in his voice was a stark contrast to the decisive way he had abandoned me earlier.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, my expression–carefully neutral. “Adrian, I’ve decided to go to further my training at a hospital out of town. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
His shock was almost comical. “Training? Out of town? Why wasn’t this discussed? We need to talk about this!”
I raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge. “Why should I discuss it with you? Can’t I make my own decision?” The words felt foreign on my tongue, yet strangely empowering. He surged forward, pushing the suitcase aside and attempting to take a seat beside me. “No, you can’t go!”
A humorless smile played on my lips. “And what makes you think you can stop me, Adrian?” I asked, my voice dripping with a newfound confidence.
He replied confidently, “Because I am your husband!”
Now he remembered whose husband he was? Because the last time I checked, he was far too busy playing happy families with Lovely Sophie. Whatever. It was too late.
I smiled slightly. “Then let’s get a divorce,” I declared, the words heavy with finality. The love, the trust and the dreams we once shared were all ashes in the wind.
When I decided to go for advanced training at an out–of–town hospital, also decided that I would divorce him. I had thought about it for a long, long time.
He was stunned, looking at me for a long while in disbelief. “Wha… what?”
“I said, we should get a divorce.”
“We can’t get a divorce!” He refused immediately with reddened eyes, grabbing my hand. “Madeline, you’re just angry, right? We’ve been together since college. You wouldn’t throw that away so easily, would you? Madeline, I’ve been trying to consider your feelings. What more do you want from me?”
His attempt to paint himself as the devoted partner and me as the fickle one was laughable. I waited patiently for him to finish.
“I don’t want anything from you, Adrian,” I said finally, my voice devoid of anger, just a flat statement of fact. “Except a divorce.”
He immediately pulled me into his arms, his voice trembling. “Madeline, how could you divorce me? Madeline, do you… not love me anymore?”
The question hung in the air. Love. What did it even mean in our marriage?
