Part 1My Childhood Sweetheart Husband Betrayed Me

My husband just sent a $1,000 gift to his mistress,

Who immediately forwarded it to me:

"Sis, this scumbag gave me $1,000. Let's go out for a nice meal tomorrow."

While Derek was taking a shower, his phone kept buzzing.

Several messages came in quick succession. I picked up the phone and saw they were from someone saved as "Sweetie", who had sent a few pictures.

The screen was locked, so I couldn't see the details.

Then another message came: "Do you like them?"

My heart sank. I tried entering our child's birthday and our wedding anniversary, but they were both wrong.

Finally, I unlocked it using Derek's own birthday.

The photos seemed to be taken in a bathroom, with dim lighting and tantalizing curves barely visible under an open white shirt.

Even more eye-catching than the white shirt was the button on the chest.

It was the one I had specially customized for Derek's birthday, with our initials engraved: D&O.

I had suspected Derek was having an affair for a while.

He had been coming home later and later, claiming to work overtime on weekends too, and often returned with a faint scent of perfume.

He had also grown increasingly cold towards me, barely speaking ten sentences to me in a week.

Not only had he removed my fingerprint from his phone, but he had also changed the password.

All these details pointed to one thing: Derek was cheating.

It had been 10 years, from classmates to lovers, from school uniforms to wedding dresses. I never imagined he would cheat.

I didn't want to lose this family, nor did I want to lose Derek. I also wasn't sure how to face his betrayal.

He didn't bring it up, so I pretended not to know. This way, I could still tell myself nothing had happened.

This was the first time this person had actively appeared before me, tearing apart my self-deception.

I sat rigidly on the edge of the bed, staring at the phone, the screen's light stinging my eyes.

I still remembered Derek's tear-streaked face at our wedding.

He thanked me for sticking by him, willing to suffer hardships with a poor boy like him, and vowed to give me a good life.

Now, the poor boy wasn't poor anymore, and he had someone else on the side.

Hearing the bathroom door open, I quickly wiped away my tears and put the phone back.

When he came out, I pretended nothing was wrong: "Honey, Emma's been coughing a lot lately. Can you come with me to take her to the doctor tomorrow?"

Derek paused while drying his hair, his voice muffled under the towel: "I have to rush a project recently, working overtime on weekends too. You take her."

I didn't say anything more and quietly went to sleep.

The next day, after dropping Emma off at preschool, I followed Derek to a secluded Western restaurant.

The restaurant was by East Lake, with huge glass windows overlooking blooming lotus flowers.

It had been a long time since I'd eaten out.

At first, it was because we were saving money to buy a house. Later, when our income increased and I wanted to eat out, Derek would either say he had to work overtime or was too tired to go out, always finding excuses.

The young girl cuddling up to Derek was young and beautiful, every detail from her hairstyle to her fingertips was exquisite.

In just a few years, I had gone from being that kind of girl to a mom with messy hair, dark circles under my eyes, and dry, chapped lips.

Actually, Derek's attitude towards me had changed long ago.

I remembered one day when I was applying lipstick in front of the mirror, Derek glanced at me and sneered: "With those chapped lips of yours, it's useless to put on lipstick."

He had forgotten that I used to be pretty too, that I was once young and fashionable, willing to spend hundreds on a set of beautiful nails.

But I got married and had a daughter.

Since our daughter was born, I had hardly slept a full night.

I had to get up in the middle of the night to breastfeed, clean the house and do chores during the day. Derek's mother often came over, supposedly to see her granddaughter, but she never helped. Instead, she would demand this and that, keeping me running around.

Derek couldn't see any of this. He would only question why the house was so messy, or why I was arguing with his mother again.

I always had to face a pile of housework alone, a crying baby, and their various accusations. Countless times, I desperately wanted to jump from the 11th floor.

It wasn't until I was diagnosed with postpartum depression that Derek realized how serious my condition was.

But even knowing I needed medication to control my condition, he still said I was being dramatic.

I tried to discuss hiring a housekeeper with him, but he rejected me with one sentence:

"Do you know how expensive housekeepers are now? Don't you know how hard I work? Other people can take care of several kids without problems, why can't you handle it?"

Of course I knew work was hard, but Derek simply didn't care whether I was struggling or not.

Later, when the child became easier to care for, I stopped taking medication, and Derek became even more perfunctory and cold towards me.

I could see he was losing interest in me, but I originally thought it was just a lack of novelty after being together for so long.

After my parents divorced and remarried, neither of them wanted me, their past mistake.

I wanted a family so badly, I didn't want to be pushed out the door again.

So I compromised and pretended not to know, thinking this way I could keep this family.

Little did I know that while I was struggling here, they were having the time of their lives.

I coldly watched them flirting, suddenly feeling foolishly ridiculous.

A man who has changed his heart is like a rotten cabbage, disgusting to look at and nauseating to smell. I don't want it anymore.