My Wife's Midnight Counselling

I heard rustling as Rachel Gooden got dressed. She was still holding her phone while speaking softly to Daniel Wells.

“It’s okay, I’ll be there soon. Just relax and don’t think about anything.

“Don’t be scared. It’s all over…

“Don’t move around. You might hurt yourself. I’m getting dressed. I’ll be there soon.”

…

I noticed the gentle look on her face and listened to that soothing tone. My heart suddenly trembled.

So, she did have it in her to be so gentle.

It was just a pity that I was not the person she was talking to.

It felt as if my heart was being crushed. It was hard to breathe.

I quietly watched her leave, then picked up my phone and sent a message to my lawyer, John Smith.

[John, help me draft a divorce agreement. Make sure the property division is included.]

A reply came quickly. [Okay.]

Right after that, I called my father.

The phone rang twice before he answered. He did not speak first. He was clearly waiting for me.

“Dad, I’m getting divorced.”

Those few words broke the silence. A faint sigh came from the other end.

“It isn’t too late. Finish handling it and come home. The family business should be passed to you soon.

“Alright, then. Your mother and I are going to sleep. You should be able to handle something so small. Don’t drag it out any further.

“Come back soon. Your mother misses you.”

After that, he hung up.

I knew he had always been awkward and never good with words.

The fact that he had said that much already meant he had forgiven my reckless behavior and childish stubbornness.

We had finally made peace.

As I faced the empty room, I could not help looking back on the suffering of the past five years.

To stay with her, I did everything her family asked, yet their demands only grew worse.

Again and again, I endured cold glances and humiliation.

For her, I endured all of it.

Rachel did not come home that night.

As the pale light of dawn spread across the sky, I understood that our relationship was at its end.

Her call never came. Instead, my mother-in-law called.

“Sam, tomorrow is your father-in-law’s birthday. As his son-in-law, you’d better show some sincerity.”

I did not respond, yet she flared up like a firecracker.

“I’m speaking politely to you, so don’t push your luck!

“You’re the one who made Rachel angry because you’re useless, and I’m the one who’s giving you a way out!

“Bring a gift tomorrow and apologize. Don’t make me say it twice!”

I hung up immediately.

Not long after, Daniel posted a new update.

The photo showed a cheese sandwich.

The sandwich was generously filled, neatly cut, and looked incredibly appetizing at a glance.

His caption read, [Thank you to my honey for making me breakfast. Love you.]

I let out a cold laugh.

Rachel had made that sandwich for me.

Back when we were dating, she learned to cook it just to celebrate my birthday.

After that, every year on my birthday, she would make me a sandwich like this.

However, the one ritual that belonged to me had become nothing more than an ordinary breakfast for Daniel.

What was I supposed to be?

My mother-in-law must have seen that post too.

So, what right did she have to demand that I show up with gifts and apologize?

When I thought of that, I picked up my phone and called her back.

“I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Good. Don’t forget to prepare a birthday gift for your father-in-law, and an apology gift too. Don’t be stingy.”

Her tone softened. I replied casually and hung up.

Birthday gift? Did he celebrate his birthday seven times a year?