Hidden Like a Dirty Secret

The moment he saw the pair of slippers embroidered with an "M", the smile at the corner of Kevin Russell's mouth stiffened.

Still, he tried to explain it away. "You know Monica is my most mischievous student. It's just a prank."

As he spoke, his fingers wound around mine and lightly tickled my palm, the way they always used to.

I didn't react.

All I wanted to ask was what kind of nerve it took for a student to come and go from her professor's home as she pleased. And what would two people have to do in the bathroom, and for how long, to leave that many marks on the mirror?

The words reached the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back. I pulled my hand away too.

I looked at him. "So your student knows the code to the front door, the code to the bedroom, and even the combination to the safe?"

He pressed his lips together and said nothing.

The look he gave me carried a faint hint of reproach.

That safe was a gift I'd bought him with my very first paycheck.

He'd said that someday it would hold our marriage certificate, the deed to our home, our family savings book, and our children's birth certificates.

Yet now, in this 320-square-meter home, there still wasn't a place for my slippers.

Meanwhile, his student's slippers could be tucked away in the safe as if they belonged there.

"First it's slippers, then it's passcodes, and now it's the safe? Laurel, what exactly are you trying to say?"

Whenever he ran into a question that was hard to answer, he'd skip right over it and gaslight me.

It was the same every time I asked him when this home would finally, openly keep a pair of slippers for me. I didn't want him to throw out my slippers whenever his students, colleagues, or friends came to visit.

He'd always just smile. "When we go public."

"And when is that?"

He'd nudge his glasses up. "Once I make full professor. If people found out now that I married my student, everything I've worked for would go down the drain..."

So I gritted my teeth and kept waiting.

Because he said he didn't want a long-distance relationship, I gave up my chance to go abroad.

Because he said his stomach hurt, I took a nine-to-five job as a receptionist at a private company. No overtime, no late nights, all so I could take care of his stomach.

To fit into his life and have more in common with him, I even quit that job and studied until my eyes were bloodshot, trying to win a permanent staff position at his university.

And for what?

Once his promotion came through, he had to compete for a flagship research project. Once the project was done, he had to go after the Distinguished Faculty Award.

For these past three years, I'd been like a dishrag, used to wipe up wherever a mess needed cleaning.

Whenever his classmates, friends, or colleagues came over for dinner, I was the one who took time off to buy groceries. I was the one who cooked an entire feast single-handedly.

Once the food was cooked, the plates were set, and the wine was breathing, I'd put on a face mask, pick up an overflowing bag of trash, and walk down the stairwell.

Ten floors.

With every floor, I couldn't stop myself from running through the list.

My slippers were already thrown out, so when they changed their shoes at the door, they shouldn't notice anything.

The cutting board was back in its place, and the fridge was restocked. I'd even picked every strand of my hair off the pillows one by one and tossed them into the trash to carry downstairs. There would be nothing left for anyone to catch.

In those days, his colleagues saw me as a housekeeper who happened to be a great cook.

His friends saw me as a diligent maid he paid by the hour.

The one thing I could never be was the proud wife he introduced to the world.

And yet the place I'd waited so long for had been taken, just like that, so effortlessly, by a female student.

He was afraid people would find out I existed, so he threw my slippers in the trash.

He was afraid I'd find out about Monica, so he hid her slippers in the safe.

So after all my sacrifice, after all my patience, the only place I'd earned was the trash can.

It was almost funny.

Kevin's voice cut through my memories. "You were my student once too. You know how hard it is for students. Monica's an orphan with no parents. All I'm doing is looking out for her a little more. Don't overthink it, okay?"

Kevin's brows knit slightly.

Once he'd pushed down the impatience on his face, he let out a breath and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"All right, don't be mad anymore. You win. On our third anniversary, we'll go public."

I paused for a few seconds. Only a few.

Then I pried his fingers off me one by one.

I looked up and met Kevin's puzzled gaze. "There's no need to go public. Let's get a divorce."