Part 2

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

Ever since Ethan joined the company, handpicked by Amanda as her assistant, her heart had increasingly leaned toward this young man in his early twenties, unconditionally and without question.

Every time I clashed with Ethan over their overly intimate interactions, Amanda always sided with him. The result was always the same: I ended up apologizing to Ethan.

Half a month ago, I needed to discuss a work-related matter with Amanda.

But as soon as I walked into the office, I saw them both stepping out of the break room, disheveled.

Through the small gap between them, I could clearly see that the bed in the break room was in disarray, unmistakably implying that something had happened.

This was a room that, even as her husband, I wasn't allowed to use for a moment's rest.

I froze in place, my mind racing with anger, but when I opened my mouth, the words failed me.

Noticing my confusion, Ethan flashed me a carefree smile.

"Mr. Lucas, please don't misunderstand. Ms. Johnson was just exhausted from work and had a sore back, so I was helping her with a massage."

I wanted to avoid misunderstanding, but with a man and a woman alone in a room, a messy bed, and disheveled clothes...

How could anyone not jump to conclusions?

Later, I subtly brought up the incident to Amanda.

I suggested that, as a married woman, she should maintain a certain distance from men.

But Amanda's response was explosive.

"What are you implying? I work tirelessly, and Ethan kindly offers to massage my back. How could you twist it into something else?!"

"All you think about is that dirty nonsense, huh?"

I couldn't help but respond sharply.

"What do you mean? You two alone in a room—doesn't that look suspicious?"

Amanda grew even more furious, throwing things around and accusing me of doubting her. We erupted into a heated argument.

From the way she acted, I started to suspect that something was going on.

Otherwise, she wouldn't have been so defensive.

But without proof, and still holding onto feelings for her, I let it go.

As the days went by, I chose to pretend nothing had happened.

Then, the day before I was set to leave for a business trip to inspect the project site, the company threw a celebration dinner for me.

At the party, Ethan had too much to drink, while Amanda, my wife, not only didn't think to care for me but instead sat beside Ethan, constantly blocking drinks for him.

The colleagues who saw this exchanged glances—some with amusement, others with pity.

I pretended not to notice, continuing to entertain the guests with forced cheer.

Maybe it was because I turned a blind eye that, after the party, Amanda took it upon herself to drive Ethan home and didn't return until the next morning.

When she finally came back, she explained, saying she had only stayed to take care of him, that nothing had happened.

But the missing stockings on her legs and the faint hickeys on her chest were hard to ignore.

Still, I chose to brush it off.

I convinced myself it could have been something harmless—perhaps mosquito bites.

But what happened tonight made me feel like a fool.

Time and time again, I believed; time and time again, I forgave.

And what did I get in return? More and more blatant disrespect.

She had actually brought her lover into our home.

That home—the one we had worked so hard to buy when we first got married.

The home that symbolized our love.

She had brought another man to live there.

Even I, no matter how blind I was to the truth, couldn't convince myself that nothing was going on.

From the moment we started dating to the day we got married, I was always the one making compromises.

After all, relationships inevitably involve friction and disagreements.

In any marriage, one partner always has to step back.

Since she wouldn't, I did.

But my constant yielding only pushed her further.

Now, there was no need to retreat any longer.

I chose to leave.