My husband cheated on me, which I expected. I know he looks down on me because I was raped when I was 17! He said he loved me and didn't mind what happened to me, but after two years of marriage, he has never touched me. When I put the pregnancy test of the mistress and the divorce agreement in front of him, it was too late for him to regret...
Chapter 1
My husband cheated on me, something I had anticipated.
I knew he resented me because, at the age of seventeen, I was raped.
He claimed to love me and said he didn't mind my past, yet in the two years of our marriage, he never touched me.
When I placed the mistress's pregnancy test and the divorce papers in front of him, he was filled with regret...
1
My husband cheated on me. After two years of marriage, this outcome was something I had long expected.
In the five years since we wed, we never had sexual relations.
Kolton Wallace and I grew up together as childhood sweethearts, and our families always saw us as a couple.
Kolton was very good to me, and in everyone's eyes, he was the perfect boyfriend.
He remembered my menstrual days, thoughtfully preparing red raspberry leaf tea and a heating pad for me. He was considerate of my feelings and kept a respectful distance from other women.
He gave me plenty of love and a sense of security, but I couldn't be the perfect girlfriend for him.
I was violated by a stranger.
It was a nightmare I couldn't shake off. That summer when I was seventeen, I was wearing a summer dress and ballet flats, and all was shattered that night.
I could never forget the look of shock in Kolton's eyes when he found me. So much so that I overlooked the fleeting hint of disdain.
That night was just the beginning of my nightmare. Cooperating with the police investigation, I endured repeated medical examinations.
The medical instruments in the hospital were used on me over and over again.
My father's rage, my mother's tears, and the reporters' cameras drove me to the brink of collapse more than once.
Reading the online comments, they questioned why I went out at night, criticized my choice of wearing a dress, and scorned me for getting into a stranger's car late at night.
These comments were unbearably painful, and to end this suffering, I chose to jump off a building.
But just as I closed my eyes, ready to leap, Kolton pulled me back.
He brought me back and, without hesitation, proposed to me, taking me abroad for treatment.
It was then I learned I had severe depression.
The medication tormented my body, the demons in my dreams tormented my mind, and my parents' weeping made me want to escape.
During the hardest times, Kolton was always by my side, caring for me as if nothing had changed.
But I knew in my heart, things were different.
Kolton would hold my hand and hug me, but he wouldn't kiss me anymore.
I tried to kiss him, but his panicked avoidance deeply hurt me.
Kolton knew I cared about this, so he pressed his lips to mine, but the kiss made me feel full of bitterness.
I didn't blame him. Instead, I was grateful for his companionship.
When he proposed marriage, I repeatedly asked if he was sure.
At that time, I was like a madwoman, sometimes grinning with joy, other times spiraling into self-doubt.
I kept asking Kolton for reassurance, and he patiently promised to love me forever.
On our wedding day, Kolton looked dashing in his suit, his features like a painting. Everything was perfect. I wore a white wedding dress, holding white roses, and we wed in front of everyone.
But during the toasts, a girl accidentally spilled red wine on my pristine dress. It was a symbolic stain on what was supposed to be a perfect day.
It seemed everything was destined from the start. In five years of marriage, neither Kolton nor I could overcome the barriers in our hearts.
Then, when Kolton came home drunk, I numbly wiped the lipstick marks from his neck and washed the foundation-stained shirt.