Chapter 4

Actually, I'm quite materialistic too. Because I only love money and my children, I'm emotionally stable in my marriage.

I don't care about my husband's private life outside.

But the thing is, my husband is actually a very good man.

He doesn't drink, works hard, even helps take care of the kids.

And he respects me.

On his office desk, he's always kept a ceramic cat I made from clay.

When we were dating, we visited a ceramics shop, and he wanted something I'd made with my own hands.

So I made him a cat.

A red-painted cat. The color has faded now, but it still stands firmly on his desk.

My daughter loves stickers. Every time she sits in his car, she puts up a few.

Even though she's in elementary school now, if anyone touches those stickers, he gets upset.

There's also a little shoe hanging there.

That little shoe, pink and crocheted from yarn.

When my daughter was just a few months old, I crocheted it for her to wear for fun.

Later, one went missing.

He was so disappointed that he just hung it in his car as decoration.

My husband is recognized as a good man.

Everyone praises how lucky I am to have found such a good man.

At every social event, his appearance makes people's eyes light up.

Either with jealousy or with envy.

Especially recently, since he started his romance with the mistress, he's been paying attention to his appearance.

Wearing white dress shirts on top, the semi-transparent kind.

Faintly revealing his newly developed abs.

Tight-fitting dress pants, a belt highlighting his waistline.

Red-soled leather shoes.

When he walks toward me, there's actually something seductive about it.

Since he stopped loving me, he rarely initiated intimacy.

I suppose this time, he felt guilty.

And I wasn't crying or making a scene, so he wanted to use another method to appease me.

After an entire night of appeasement,

I was indeed satisfied—the mistress had trained him well.

But we were only halfway through

when he was urgently called away by a phone call from the mistress.

Before leaving, he looked especially guilty and uncomfortable.

But I could already feel him going soft inside me.

It was indeed uncomfortable, but I wouldn't criticize him:

"Go ahead. We can continue when you get back."

He felt even more guilty.

Yet guilt didn't stop his feet from moving.

He still left.

It seemed my husband was really invested in the mistress.

He wouldn't be coming back tonight.

I kind of missed him already.

Before long, the mistress sent me several photos.

They were explicit images of them in the bathroom together.

I replied: [You're pregnant. Aren't you afraid of a miscarriage doing something this intense?]

She cursed at me angrily several times. I blocked her again.

Actually, my husband being like this made me feel relieved.

He used to be too good—so good that I'd have nightmares at night.

I'd feel anxious.

Anxious that a gold-digger like me had actually landed a good man.

Now he'd finally cheated.

The heart that had been anxious for so many years finally calmed down.

Because my two current children weren't even his.