After Our Divorce, She Finally Lost Sleep

"Why isn't my medicinal bath ready yet?"

At 3:00 am, my wife, Quinn White, pushed open the door and walked in. She massaged her temples and scowled.

Usually, no matter how late she arrived home, I'd spend several hours preparing her medicinal bath in advance to help her unwind and sleep. I tuned her out, stretched, locked my phone, and got ready to head back to my room and call it a night.

Her brows drew together. Her frayed nerves fueled her irritation. "Can't you do anything right, Julian? Why should I keep you around if I have to take care of everything myself?"

Right after saying that, she pulled out a stack of cash from her bag and tossed it onto the couch before looking up at me. "Go draw my bath. I have a meeting early tomorrow morning."

I took in her condescending demeanor and smiled. "Since you can't sleep, you can sign the divorce agreement on the table." Ignoring the look on her face, I turned around, went back to my room, and shut the door behind me.

"Stop messing with me, Julian. Go prepare my medicinal bath, and I'll take it like a good girl."

The medicinal bath had a strong, unpleasant smell, so I would patiently talk Quinn into soaking in it every time. Over time, she came to believe that she was enduring it not for herself, but to make me happy.

Having said her piece, she walked into the bedroom, set her phone beside her pillow, and slipped into a silk robe. I took one look at her, and as if on cue, her phone lit up with a message from her ex-boyfriend, Oliver Green. "I had a great time tonight, babe. I hope you have sweet dreams!"

Oliver was Quinn's childhood sweetheart. He had attended our wedding, though he had shown up as nothing more than her old friend. Several years later, after completing his studies abroad, he joined Quinn's company as a manager.

It seemed that their old flame had reignited in the last two years. The two of them grew closer and closer, practically inseparable around the office until everyone saw them as the company's golden couple.

I didn't hate Oliver, though. After all, there was no smoke without fire. Had Quinn remained faithful to her marriage, no one would've had the chance to come between us.

After removing her makeup, she walked over and picked up her phone. A blissful smile spread across her face as she read the message. However, her head began to throb again, and the warning signs from her body told her that she needed to rest.

Noticing that I hadn't budged, a disdainful look crossed her face. She probably thought I was being petty, refusing to prepare her medicinal bath.

I had never failed to prepare her medicinal baths throughout our seven years of marriage. I had even developed asthma because of it. However, when the honeymoon phase was over, the tenderness and love that had once filled her eyes were long gone.

I pretended to be asleep, yet I took in every subtle change in her expression. My heart gradually hardened into stone.

"Oliver and I are going on a business trip tomorrow to meet with an important client."

"Oh. Remember to use protection. I recall you don't like children."

After hearing that, she shot daggers at me. "How could you say something like that to me, Julian? Is that how little you respect your wife?"

"Don't worry. You'll be my ex-wife soon enough," I responded calmly after turning over.

Quinn looked as though she'd been pricked by a needle. Clutching her head, she yelled at me, "That's enough, Julian! Do you really think you can survive after divorcing me? Without me paying your bills and supporting you, you're nothing!"

I broke into a violent coughing fit. It took me a while to catch my breath. "Don't worry. I'm not after your money or your assets. I'll walk away with nothing."

…

Quinn never paid me a visit while I was receiving treatment for my asthma. Then again, I hadn't told her about it either.

Oliver updated his social media—Quinn was accompanying him to get his dog vaccinated. My asthma attack was obviously more serious than a dog's vaccination, but Oliver mattered more to her than I did.

By the time I was rushed to the emergency room, I was barely able to breathe and was on the verge of passing out. The doctor warned me that I had to stay away from my allergens and get plenty of fresh air to ease my symptoms. Otherwise, I could die.

To blend those medicinal baths for Quinn over the years, I was constantly surrounded by medicinal herbs, which had gradually brought on my asthma. Perhaps it was for the best. Once I left that house, my asthma would naturally be easier to manage.