Love Will Expire

When I got home and opened the door, I saw a fancy box on the table.

Angelo Harmon was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine. A week had passed since our blowout fight over his mistress, and he had been absent.

By now, I had stopped obsessing over where he had been or what he had been doing, like some bitter wife. Had he not shown up that day, I might have begun to forget his existence.

He stood up, trying to slip his arms around my waist.

I stepped back, dodging his touch. His embrace, once cherished, now made my stomach churn.

Angelo froze, but he didn't fuss over it. Instead, he picked up the box and handed it to me. "You said your watch broke, so I got you a new one. See if you like it."

I knew this was his attempt to smooth things over.

For five years, whenever we fought, he'd offer small gifts, and I'd let go of my anger, forgiving him. Those heartbreaking nights had always faded when he extended an olive branch.

But now, I was done.

Without even a glance at the box, I brushed past him and headed upstairs.

Angelo sighed, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a tight hug. "Still upset?"

I yanked my arm free, staying silent. My coldness finally got to him.

His brows furrowed, anger creeping into his voice. "It's been a week. Haven't you sorted it out? Stop acting childish."

His tone dripped with blame, as if I were the one being unreasonable.

I looked at the man I loved for five years and smiled bitterly. "So, you stayed away for a week, waiting for me to figure it out. You think I'm overreacting?"

Angelo didn't reply, but his silence spoke volumes.

I closed my eyes, fighting the ache in my chest. "If that's how you see it, let's get a divorce."

He grabbed my wrist, his eyes blazing with unfiltered anger. "I told you, it's just a fling. Once the thrill's gone, I'll pay her off and be done with it. Your place isn't at risk. All these years, I've given you money, attention, and everything else. I'm just keeping a woman on the side to unwind from work. Can't you cut me some slack?"

I couldn't believe he could make such shameless remarks. In his mind, women were toys to be used and discarded.

I struggled to break free, staring at him in disbelief. "How did you become like this? You make me sick!"

The last trace of warmth disappeared from his face.

"This kind of thing is normal for guys like me," he said. "I've been married to you for five years and have only kept one mistress. That's loyal enough. I've never shortchanged you. What's your problem? You know Steve Wilson? He's had mistresses since day one. His wife never complains. Everyone else just looks the other way. Why can't you?"

His twisted logic made me laugh. "Sounds like I'm missing out. Should I find some young studs to keep up with you?"

That set him off. He tightened his grip and yelled, "No way in hell!"

The hypocrisy was staggering.

On the one hand, he could have his side piece and live it up. On the other hand, he expected me to stay loyal and play the perfect wife.

I snorted, "You can't even handle the idea yourself, yet you expect me to accept it? Let's get a divorce. Seeing your face disgusts me."