Married to a Man Who Doesn't Understand the Silent Treatment

The apology letter was an unspoken agreement between Chandler Goodwin and me. Every time we fought, I had to handwrite one as an olive branch.

The first time I wrote an apology letter, tears and snot drenched my face. On one hand, I kept berating myself for humbling myself to this point for a man's sake. On the other hand, I just couldn't stop my hand from moving across the page. After all, being given the silent treatment was just too tormenting.

Eventually, there was a third time, a ninth time, a 17th time… It was like a vicious cycle.

In fact, on the way to the company, I had even been thinking, "Was my handwriting neat enough? Was my attitude sincere enough? Chandler will probably stop being angry once he reads this, right?"

Yet now, seeing the genuine warmth and affection in his eyes as he stared at his assistant, I only felt a chill sweep through my entire body.

As it turned out, it wasn't that he didn't understand what the silent treatment meant—it was just that I'd never been someone he was willing to coax.

While Chandler was busy with a meeting, I took the opportunity to meet with his assistant. After ordering our coffees, I carefully scrutinized the woman across from me.

She wasn't as pretty as I was, perhaps just a bit above average, and judging from her slender figure, she probably didn't have a habit of going to the gym. Status-wise, I was a match for Chandler, while she was merely an intern.

No matter if it was her looks, figure, or status, she was in no way comparable to me.

And yet, I had still lost to her.

During the past three years that I was married to Chandler, we had had countless fights that led to the silent treatment. Even so, he had never once been the one to try to reconcile with me first.

I had assumed he was just that cold and indifferent by nature, that he was the same to everyone. It was only today that I discovered that wasn't the truth.

He was entirely capable of smiling with such doting affection. He didn't like the feeling of being ignored, and he knew that he had to set aside his pride to make a woman happy.

I just couldn't understand—where had I gone wrong? Why had I lost? How badly had I lost?

That was the reason I invited Amanda Silton, his assistant, out today. I wanted answers.

Amanda hadn't expected that I would ask her such a question. The nervousness at being caught by her lover's wife abruptly turned to bewilderment.

"I-Is that all you wanted to know?"

Crumpling the apology letter in my hand, I stuffed it into my bag. Then, levelling a serious gaze on Amanda, I replied sincerely, "Yes, that's all I want to know. Can you tell me in what way I have lost?"