You Cheated, so Goodbye

I, Marcus Knight, was not someone who held grudges.

When I got into my wife Pamela Thompson's passenger seat and had just pulled out my pack of cigarettes, she snatched it from me and threw it out the window with a disgusted look.

"How many times have I told you not to smoke in my car?" she shouted.

For a moment, I gave a bitter smile and put away my lighter.

When I saw ash in her car, I knew she wasn't some clean freak—she just made exceptions.

Clearly, I wasn't someone she'd bend her rules for.

In our three years of marriage, Pamela had gone from an inexperienced office worker to a workplace elite.

Everyone who knew her regarded her with respect.

As for me, I was just the freeloader she was supporting.

No one knew that I'd started the business with her.

She had drunk herself into a miscarriage while trying to close a deal with a client. I had told her to rest at home, but she had refused.

I couldn't bear to push her, so I resigned and focused on supporting her from behind.

It seemed she had forgotten I used to be a standout in the business world.

I stepped down because I cared for her. But in her eyes now, I was living off her.

When we got to the company, I handed her the divorce papers.

Pamela froze. "What do you mean by this? Marcus, are you seeing someone else?"

I smiled bitterly. "Don't you already know whether I am or not?"

She took a deep breath. "Is this about us not having kids after three years of marriage? I've already said that I don't want kids! Can you guys stop pressuring me?"

She meant my parents.

Last time, during a major festival, we had gone home for dinner, and my mom had hinted about children.

Pamela got upset, as she hated being pressured about having kids.

At first, she said it was because of her health. But after I stepped down from my position and spent every day cooking for her to nurse her back, she'd long since recovered.

"It's not about that," I said to clarify.

I pulled out my cigarette pack and was just about to light up when Pamela slapped it out of my hand.

"I told you not to smoke when I'm around!" she warned.

I froze, staring at the red mark she'd left on the back of my hand.

Suddenly, rage consumed me.

"So, other people can smoke around you and in your car, but I can't. Is that it? You're only a clean freak when it comes to me! And you ask why I want to divorce?" I fumed.

It was the first time I'd ever yelled at her. Pamela stood there, stunned. She then snapped out of it, but she didn't know what to say.

"Sign the papers. Let's end things on good terms," I said.

Realizing I was serious, Pamela got angry.

"He's a new hire, and he has resources. Do you think I'd tolerate him otherwise? Marcus, I wouldn't be this exhausted if you weren't being such a hands-off husband," she complained.

She probably didn't realize that when she complained about me, the look in her eyes was pure disdain. It wasn't resentment, just pure contempt.

I couldn't help but scoff. "If I'm such a burden to you, then just divorce me. Sign it."

Even though I was set on divorce, Pamela refused to sign. She kicked me out instead, screaming all the while.

When I walked out, the whole office was dead silent.

Right away, I saw that young man. He gave me a fake smile.

"It's you. Ms. Thompson's just been under a lot of stress lately. Don't take it personally," the young man advised.

I glanced at his employee badge—Executive Assistant. So, he was the one smoking in her car.

No wonder. With a boy toy like that by her side, it was no surprise that she'd look down on me.

Ignoring him, I turned to leave, but he followed me out.

"Marcus, I'd leave sooner if I were you. Being a freeloader isn't as easy as it looks. Besides, you're useless now. What could you possibly do for her?" the young man said.