Chapter 1

I accidentally found a "Mistress Registration Form" in a company group email.

I found my husband Alec's name in this form alongside his childhood sweetheart of the same age.

In the evidence column, there was a screenshot of their chat.

The little childhood sweetheart asked him, "How long has it been since you touched that old lady?"

He replied, "Don't even mention it. Now when I look at the company interns, I see them brimming with youth."

"But when I go home and face her wrinkled face, I always feel like there's an old person smell."

You think I'm old, but you want my money?

Then go back to being a poor bastard!

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Seeing the "Mistress Registration Form," Alec was playing video games in the study.

I placed the warm milk beside him, reminding him to drink it quickly.

He replied impatiently, "I know, you go rest already."

I scrolled aimlessly on my phone, the page stopping right on his name.

Jade's name was prefixed to his.

Several rows below were various pieces of substantial evidence of her being the other woman.

My gaze focused on the words "old person smell" for a long time, until my hand nearly went numb.

My heart clenched in pain, my mind went blank.

Until a game ended, Alec cursed under his breath, reaching for the glass of milk.

But he accidentally knocked it over.

The milk spilled all over me.

Alec finally had time to look up at me: "You haven't left yet?"

He frowned, his eyes showing a hint of disgust: "What a fishy smell. Go take a shower quickly."

Those three words from the chat screenshot instantly transformed into sharp arrows in reality.

They pierced through the void, violently stabbing into my chest.

In a daze, I suddenly realized something.

It had been a very long time since Alec had touched me.

As I closed the study door,

The girl he was playing with asked maliciously: "She's been waiting for you, does she want to..."Alec instinctively glanced back.

Probably afraid I might overhear.

The door was left slightly ajar, and I stood where he couldn't see me, hearing him say, "Can you stop deliberately disgusting me? Just thinking about that smell on her makes me lose my appetite."

The girl's mocking laughter cut through me like a sharp knife, leaving me riddled with wounds.

She continued to ask, "You're not even thirty yet. Why torture yourself by hanging on to her? Just get a divorce already."

"Forget it," Alec replied hesitantly.

I thought he still couldn't bear to part with me.

Who knew he would say with pity, "She's almost forty, an old woman. Besides me, who would want her?"

My breathing became erratic, and my hands started trembling uncontrollably.

I rushed to the bathroom and looked up, only to find my face had turned deathly pale.

Alec hadn't noticed anything amiss.

But in the past, if I so much as sneezed, he would make a big fuss, taking my temperature and cooking chicken soup.

He was always afraid I might be the slightest bit unwell.

When did he change?

It was after I turned thirty-five.

For over a year now, we've barely communicated.

I always thought I had neglected him because I was busy with work.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine his disgust had been brewing for so long. No longer does a lamp light up late at night, waiting for me to come home.

No longer does he cling to my waist, affectionately calling me "big sis" in moments of passion.

No longer does he hold every little detail about me close to his heart, fearing any negligence.

It's hard to imagine that this man, who now thinks I smell like an old person and despises me in every way.

Once, to be with me, a woman eight years his senior, he had a falling out with his entire family and was kicked out. Yet he held my hand tightly, refusing to give up.

Back then, he said, "I don't care what others think. To me, you're the best."

"Whether you're twenty, thirty, forty, or fifty, in my heart, you'll always be an eighteen-year-old girl."

"Even if the whole world disapproves of us, I still want to be with you."

"Let me take care of you for life, okay?"

I raise my hand to smell myself.

Because I've been taking medicine to regulate my body, I can only detect a very faint scent of Chinese herbs.

As if a string has suddenly snapped, I grab all the perfume bottles from the cabinet and frantically spray them on myself.

The perfume bottles fall to the ground, shattering. The broken pieces scatter, leaving a bright red wound on my leg.

Blood gushes out.

The entire bathroom is filled with an overwhelmingly strong fragrance, making it hard to breathe. Alec pushed open the door: "Faye, what did you spill?"

He didn't even notice the blood streaming down my leg, but instead complained irritably: "It stinks in here, clean it up quick! The smell is unbearable!"

But it was clearly perfume.

It didn't stink at all.

In that moment, I suddenly realized.

Alec simply didn't love me anymore.

Why should I punish myself for his lack of love?