Seven Days to Leave My Cheating Husband

I went to pick up my drunk husband. The moment I pushed open the club door, I heard him complaining:

“My wife reeks of grease and cooking smoke. Makes me want to puke.”

His secretary cut him off with a flirty whine,

“If you hate her so much, why don’t you just divorce her?”

Marcus ran his hand along her thigh, eyes glazed over:

“She’s just a free maid. How could she compare to you?”

When he noticed me standing in the doorway, he froze. Then he stumbled over to me:

“I was just messing around with my friends. Don’t take it seriously.”

Whether it was a joke or not didn’t matter anymore.

I’d received a job offer from another city. In seven days, I could finally dump this drunk of a husband.

Marcus clearly relaxed when he saw I wasn’t angry. He waved awkwardly at the others:

“My wife and I are heading home.”

Barely suppressed laughter and gossip followed us out.

“Claire used to be the Queen Bee at school. Can’t believe her body turned out like this.”

Back home, Marcus woke up in a daze and leaned in to kiss me:

“Happy birthday, honey. I really had too much to drink today. I was talking nonsense. I’m sorry.”

I turned my head away.

He followed, wrapping his arms around me from behind:

“Are you really mad? I messed up. I won’t drink anymore.”

“Let me make it up to you right now?”

His hand slid down habitually.

“Claire, we should have a baby.”

I closed my eyes.

“Marcus, I’m tired. I need some quiet.”

He mumbled: “Fine, whatever you want.”

Ten years as a housewife. Every day shopping for groceries, cooking, cleaning.

Every friend who visited praised how warm and tidy our home was.

My hands were covered in calluses from exhaustion.

But in Marcus’s eyes, I was just a maid who slept with him.

The next morning, Marcus shook me awake.

“Amber is coming over today to discuss company business with me. She’s been having stomach issues lately, so make something light.”

“If her stomach’s bothering her, why doesn’t she eat at her own place?”

Marcus said matter-of-factly,

“Just make two extra dishes. How hard can it be?”

How hard can it be?

I sat up and looked at this man I’d loved for ten years.

His brows furrowed slightly, wearing that “why are you being so unreasonable” expression.

“Fine,” I said.

Then turned around and ordered a whole table of takeout.

Not playing maid anymore.

At the dinner table, Amber sat in the seat closest to Marcus, constantly serving him food.

Talking about their work stories.

“Marcus, do you remember? When we went to the beach, you helped me put on sunscreen. You were so clumsy.”

Marcus tapped her nose playfully:

“Don’t even mention it. I almost got beaten half to death by your parents that day when we got back. They wanted me to take responsibility for you.”

Amber covered her mouth:

“I was just young back then. You bad boy~”

Then she looked at my stomach.

“Claire, you have so much fat on your belly. Could use it as a flotation device.”

Marcus frowned too:

“Honey, you really should lose some weight.”

I touched my stomach.

There was a tiny life inside.

“Marcus, I…”

Before I could finish, an urgent voice cut me off.

“Claire, Amber and I have work to discuss.”

Before finishing his sentence, Marcus and Amber went into the study together.

Instantly, a wave of nausea surged through me.

I forced down the disgust and slowly walked to the study door.

Soon, muffled panting came from behind the wall, mixed with Amber’s moaning.

“Marcus, ah, me or your wife, who’s better?”

Marcus grunted in response,

“Of course it’s Amber. You’re so sexy! I love you the most.”

So careful, so affectionate.

Turns out Marcus at thirty could still go at it.

After listening for a while, right when they were finishing up, I knocked on the study door.

The sounds inside suddenly stopped.

Marcus’s voice came out hoarse:

“What is it, Claire?”

“Looking for something.”

The door opened. Marcus sat in his chair drenched in sweat, while Amber leaned against the desk, face flushed.

“Is Amber okay?”

I took a step forward.

“Just feeling a bit off. I’ll take a shower and be fine. You do your thing, Claire.”

She ran off.

Marcus chased after her, “Amber’s not feeling well, I’ll go check on her.”

I pulled out the ultrasound report from the drawer.

If Marcus had really been discussing work, he would have seen it when he opened the drawer.

I’d originally planned to tell Marcus this surprise, turn down the job offer, and settle down to prepare for the baby.

Not anymore. Because the baby had already miscarried.

And I was completely done with him!

I tore the ultrasound report to shreds and tossed it in the trash.

When I came out, I saw Amber wearing that silk nightgown I’d been too precious to wear myself.