After 8 Years of Devotion, My Wife Betrayed Me with a Frat Boy Chapter 2

When Vanessa came home that night, I was playing with the kitten I’d just bought.

Vanessa hated cats and dogs. Years ago, she’d secretly gotten rid of the cat I’d raised for five years. Since then, I hadn’t dared to bring another pet home.

“Ethan, what the hell is this? You know I hate cats!” Vanessa shrieked.

I glanced at her, unfazed, and continued petting the kitten.

“Oh, stop sulking already! Alex just graduated and needs my help. Why are you jealous of him? I’ll make it up to you later, okay?” she said, pinching her nose like she was doing me a favor.

When I ignored her, she got mad. She grabbed the kitten roughly and threw it aside, then shoved me.

“Apologize to Alex! You’re a grown man throwing tantrums over a frat boy!”

The kitten let out a sharp cry, scrambled back to me, and hissed at her.

I hadn’t expected Vanessa to shove me that hard. My stomach hit the edge of the table, and a sharp pain flared up—my chronic gastric condition was back.

I hadn’t eaten dinner, hoping Vanessa would come home to celebrate my birthday. Seeing Alex’s tweet had ruined my appetite entirely. Now, the stress had triggered the pain, leaving me speechless.

My gastric issues had started during those years of pushing Vanessa’s career. Long nights drinking with producers and directors, always taking a backseat to let her shine—it had worn me down.

Vanessa’s expression wavered when she saw my face pale.

“Where’s your medication? I’ll get it,” she said, rummaging through the living room.

“I thought it was here… but—” She froze, her face shifting guiltily.

She remembered.

The day before, she’d taken my medication to Alex.

“Alex crashed his car, Ethan! Where’s the first aid kit?” she had yelled as she burst through the door.

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed the box where I kept my gastric meds.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll take this for now!” she had said, rushing out.

Normally, I would’ve been angry, demanding why my medication was going to Alex. But today, I was just tired—tired in every way.

“I’ll run out and buy more. Hold on,” Vanessa said, voice uneasy.

She tried to help me to the couch, but the kitten hissed, and she backed off.

“I don’t know why you bought this stupid thing,” she muttered.

Keys in hand, she headed for the door but stopped when her phone rang.

“Vanessa! Those debt collectors are at my place again,” Alex sobbed on the other end.

“They said if I don’t pay up tonight, they’ll break my hand! Please, help me!”

“What?!” Vanessa’s delicate face showed panic she’d never had for me.

“They dare mess with my people? I’ll be right there!”

“But it’s so late… won’t Ethan get mad?” Alex whimpered.

“Like I care what he thinks!” Vanessa snapped.

She glanced at me before stepping out.

“I’ll buy your meds later. Alex is in danger.”

I wanted to tell her I wanted a divorce.

Instead, I watched her leave, clutching a business card I had meant to use as a surprise. It was from an internationally renowned director, someone Vanessa had admired for years.

I tore it into pieces.