Painting My Husband’s Affairs

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I'd been married to Dylan Harper for three years, and he'd cycled through six mistresses during that time.

Every time he found someone new, he'd make me personally paint the two of them in intimate poses, then hang it on the most prominent wall in our house.

Everyone in our social circle said I was the most tolerant wife they'd ever seen.

But no one knewI'd fought back once.

The first time, my art exhibition mysteriously caught fire, and ten years of my life's work turned to ashes.

The second time, he allowed his mistress to push me down the stairs.

I lost our three-month-old baby.

Now, my grandmother was the only person I had left to depend on.

So when Dylan called and asked me to deliver ultra-thin condoms to him, I smiled and agreed without hesitation.

I personally placed that box of condoms in his mistress's hand and said, "Call me if you need more."

I'd just reached the door when Dylan's low voice came from behind me.

"Violet."

My steps faltered.

Without turning around, I already knew what expression he wore right now.

Lazy, casual, with a hint of amusement.

I slowly turned around.

The private room's lighting was deliberately dim and suggestive.

Dylan was half-reclined on the sofa, his shirt casually unbuttoned.

Sitting on his lap was his latest mistress, Melody Shaw.

She wore a skirt that couldn't possibly be any shorter, draped over him.

Her fingers were restlessly tracing circles on his chest.

Seeing me turn around, Melody not only didn't restrain herselfshe deliberately pressed closer into Dylan's embrace, marking her territory.

Dylan's gaze landed on my face.

With scrutiny and curiosity, as if he couldn't believe I could be this calm.

"What," he began, his tone indifferent, "being sarcastic? Throwing a tantrum?"

I slowly curved my lips into a smile.

A perfectly appropriate smile.

"No," I said. "Mr. Harper, don't misunderstand."

"I just want you two to enjoy yourselves."

At those words, Dylan stared at me, his dark eyes intense, as if trying to find a crack in my expression.

But Melody on top of him wasn't pleased.

She directly wrapped her arms around Dylan's neck.

"Dylan," she cooed, "you were so eager just a moment ago. Why are you only looking at her now?"

As she spoke, she turned to glance at me.

Her eyes were full of naked provocation.

She might as well have written "you're in the way" directly on her face.

But I only pressed my lips together lightly.

Without a word, I wisely turned and left.

When I reached the door, I even thoughtfully helped them close the private room door gently.

Shutting out the sordid scene inside.

And shutting out the last trace of emotion I shouldn't have had.

By the time I got home, it was already dark.

I'd just changed my shoes when my phone buzzed.

A message from Dylan.

"Perform well at the family dinner tonight and put Grandpa's mind at ease, okay?"

"I know you're jealous. That limited edition Chanel piece you had your eye onI'll have someone deliver it to the house soon."

I paused for a few seconds, then typed back two words: "Thank you."

Dylan was always like this.

He made a habit of slapping you, then offering a sweet treat.

In the past, I couldn't accept it.

I always felt his compensation was an insult.

Those clothes, jewelry, handbagsI didn't want to use any of them.

I threw them all into the depths of my closet, out of sight, out of mind.

But now it was different.

I no longer loved him.

So these things were just gifts.

Naturally, I accepted them all.

Besides, this time Dylan was truly wrong.

I really hadn't been sarcastic.

I wasn't angry either.

I didn't even feel the slightest ripple of emotion.

Because as long as I could protect Grandma and let her spend her remaining years in peace and stability, I wouldn't complain even if I had to do more than just deliver condomseven if I had to help them put the damn things on myself.

At seven o'clock that evening, Dylan's car pulled up downstairs right on time.

Seeing me come down, he stubbed out his cigarette in a trash bin and opened the passenger door.

His movements were as gentlemanly as always.

For a brief moment, I almost believed he was still the man from three years ago who'd promised to treat me well for a lifetime.

I bent down and got into the car.

As soon as I'd fastened my seatbelt, my gaze inadvertently fell on his hand.

The ring finger that should have worn our wedding band now displayed a pink crushed diamond ring instead.

The style was childish and tacky, completely at odds with his usual taste.

I froze slightly.

My heart felt like something had stung it gently.

Dylan also noticed where I was looking.

He glanced down at his own hand, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.

"The girl doesn't know any better," his tone was flat, as if discussing something trivial. "She replaced my ring. I'll change it back tomorrow."

I shook my head calmly. "No need."

That wedding bandwe'd designed it together.

He'd said, "Violet, this is our lifelong promise."

So even later, no matter how badly we fought, no matter how much he hurt me, I never took it off.

But now, I suddenly understood.

Dylan no longer loved me.

If that was the case, why keep deceiving ourselves, forcing him to wear that ring and pretend we still had feelings for each other?

Dylan seemed surprised by my response. He froze for a moment.

He stared at me for several seconds, as if trying to read something in my face.

But my expression was blank.

Calm as stagnant water.

So he said nothing more and closed his eyes to rest.

The atmosphere in the car grew heavy.

I felt tired.

Slowly, I removed my own wedding band.

The car soon arrived at the family estate.

Dylan opened his eyes. "Don't let Grandpa and Grandma notice anything. Don't upset them, okay?"

I nodded obediently and numbly.

After all, I was used to it.

No matter how Dylan humiliated me in front of others, no matter how much he made me suffer, as soon as we returned to the Harper family home, he would immediately put on an affectionate act.

He'd tell his grandparents how well we were getting along.

It was all performance.

I could play along.

But just as we were about to enter, Dylan's phone suddenly rang.

"Dylan, someone drugged me and threw me in a hotel room. Please come save me..." Melody's voice came through.

Dylan's expression grew darker by the second.

"What did you say?" He lowered his voice. "Alright, I'll be right there."

He hung up and immediately turned to leave.

I stood there, somewhat stunned.

"If you don't come, Grandpa and Grandma will definitely be unhappy," I found myself saying. "Besides, how could anything happen to Melody on your turf? Don't be fooled!"

Even I knew what kind of person Melody was.

What she loved most was using various schemes to get Dylan's attention.

I'd seen this act before.

But Dylan acted as if he hadn't heard me at all.

He just threw out a line without looking back.

"Melody is different from you," he said. "She never lies to me."

"As for how to appease my grandparents, figure it out yourself."

With those words, he'd already reached his car.

He disappeared into the night.

Leaving me standing alone.

I watched the direction he'd gone and laughed bitterly.

I took a deep breath, pushing down the emotions churning in my chest.

Steeling myself, I pushed open the Harper family's front door.

In the living room, Dylan's grandparents sat on the sofa.

Seeing that I'd come alone, the smiles on their faces instantly cooled.

"Where's Dylan?" Grandma spoke first, her tone clearly displeased. "The family dinner is such an important occasionhe's not even coming?"

Grandpa frowned too. "Getting more irresponsible by the day. Does he not care about us at all anymore?"

I stood at the entrance, feeling helpless.

"He had an emergency at the company and couldn't get away." I forced myself to explain. "He sent me ahead to keep you company."

"An emergency?" Grandma clearly didn't believe it. She scoffed. "What emergency could be more important than a family dinner?"

Her gaze fell on me with scrutiny and dissatisfaction.

"You must have upset him again."

"Our Dylan wasn't like this before. Ever since he married you, his mind hasn't been on family!"

Grandpa also sighed, looking at me with disappointment in his tone.

"Violet, I don't mean to criticize, but as Dylan's wife, you should be more understanding and caring toward him."

"Men work hard out there. You need to learn to be considerate of his feelings."

"If he refused to come to the family dinner today, you must have done something wrong."

I opened my mouth to explain, but the words stuck in my throat.

What was the point of explaining?

In their eyes, I was always the one at fault.

I was silent for a few seconds, then nodded gently. "It's my fault."

Grandma still seemed unsatisfied. She scoffed.

"Since you know you're wrong, go kneel as punishment."

She pointed to a spot in the center of the living room.

"Kneel for two hours and reflect properly."

"When you've thought it through, then you can get up and eat."

My knees already had old injuries.

Two years ago, when Dylan's mistress pushed me down the stairs, I'd damaged the bone.

Over the years, whenever the weather turned cold, the pain would be excruciating.

Now I looked at the cold floor of the living room.

For a moment, I felt resistant.

But I didn't dare refuse.

After all, my own grandmother was lying in a Harper family hospital, receiving treatment.

If the Harpers were unhappy, my grandmother's days wouldn't be easy either.

She was the only family I had left in this world.

Resigned to my fate, I walked to the center of the living room and knelt down on the cold floor.

The moment my knees touched the ground, piercing pain instantly spread through them.

It felt like countless needles were simultaneously stabbing into my bones.

I clenched my jaw and made no sound.

My gaze fell on the dining table not far away.

Grandpa and Grandma had already resumed smiling, discussing tonight's dishes.

As if I didn't exist at all.

I lowered my head, staring miserably at the floor.

In that moment, the last remnants of feeling I'd had for Dylan completely shattered.