Just a Ruptured Cyst—Is Divorce Really Necessary? Chapter 2

Seeing the message, I glanced back at Serena. Even in her pale, frail state, I felt not an ounce of pity for her.

I quickly opened the chat. The profile picture was a cartoon character, giving me no clues about the man’s identity. The chat history only showed today’s messages, clearly wiped clean before.

I typed a simple reply: “I’m home.”

“Exhausted, huh? Still hurting? I’ll be more gentle next time,” came the response.

My hand trembled as I gripped her phone. Grinding my teeth, I deleted the messages and returned her phone to her bag.

Sitting beside her, I replayed the years we’d spent together.

She’d always avoided intimacy. She’d never acknowledged me publicly on her social media.

Whenever I asked about it, she’d dismissively say, “We’re adults. Why does it even matter?”

I’d naively believed she was just a private person.

Now I realized, the bike I’d been so careful with all these years—someone else had been riding it rough all along.

“Cal…why am I here?”

Her voice, soft and weak, broke the silence. It sent a wave of disgust through me.

Serena groggily sat up, her pale face filled with confusion. “What’s going on? Why am I in the hospital?”

As she adjusted herself, her neckline slipped, revealing faint hickeys on her chest.

She was still wearing the red bodycon dress I’d bought her.

“You really don’t know why you’re here?” I asked coldly.

Serena froze for a second, then let out a small, mocking smile. “Hmm, and what about it?”

“We’re getting a divorce.”

Her expression twisted, caught between shock and anger. “Seriously? Over this? You’re never around, Cal. I have to deal with everything on my own—my bad days, my loneliness, my sadness. You practically live at your office. What am I supposed to do? Pretend I’m not human?”

She started crying, playing the victim like it was second nature.

I’d studied enough psychology to know what she was doing: framing herself as the wounded party, justifying her infidelity.

But for the first time, I saw through it all.

Years of hard work, devotion, and sacrifice—none of it meant anything to her.

In her eyes, I was nothing more than a fool who handed her everything on a silver platter.

“My company’s just getting off the ground. If I’d been home all the time, where would the money for the house and car have come from? Serena, you don’t work. You don’t clean. You don’t cook. You get thousands in pocket money every month, on top of every comfort imaginable. And yet, you cheated on me so badly you ended up in the hospital. Do you even have any shame?”

My voice rose as I spoke, startling even myself. Serena looked at me, stunned for a moment, but quickly recovered, dabbing her tears like a seasoned actress.

“Money can’t buy everything. Money doesn’t replace love or companionship, Cal. Do you know how hard it is to be a woman, to feel ignored by her own husband?”

“You can keep the house, the car, and the money. But you can’t keep me. We’re done, Serena.”

For the first time, I walked out on her.

I’d recorded our conversation and taken screenshots of her messages. I was finally ready to end this.

When I got home, the place was a disaster. Takeout containers piled up, clothes strewn everywhere.

My mom had been staying with us, taking care of Serena, but had recently left to visit family. Without her, the house had become a pigsty.

I sat down on the couch, exhausted and furious.

What was the point of all my sacrifices?

My anger boiled over. I texted Serena, telling her to be ready to finalize the divorce as soon as she was discharged.

When I placed the divorce agreement on the coffee table, Serena Hayes stared at me in disbelief.

Her shock quickly morphed into anger. “All this over cheating? Seriously? You’re really going to divorce me for this? Let’s be real—do you honestly think you’ll find someone like me again? Someone at my level?”

She launched into a tirade, her words buzzing in my ears like a swarm of flies. I stared her down and said firmly, “Sign it.”

“Ha! Who do you think you are, yelling at me? You think I actually wanted to marry you? Fine, divorce it is. Don’t act like I can’t live without you. Take a good look at yourself!”

Fuming, she ripped the agreement to shreds, stormed toward the door, and turned to hurl one final insult. “Calvin Morris, mark my words. Don’t come crying to me when you regret this. I’ll never take you back!”

With a loud slam, she was gone.

I laughed bitterly, staring at the torn-up papers on the floor, my heart feeling just as shredded.

I’d spoiled her rotten, and it had come to this.

I had given her all of my love. It was only fair I could take it all back.