Dear Wife, Let's Divorce!

ghtly in the silent room. The presentation for the Apex Tower, the biggest project of my career, was projected onto th

inting my laser at the screen, "we've optimized the stru

vance to the next slide. B

video feed. It was our meditation room at home. The white cushions, the single orc

rah wa

wasn't

ead was tilted back, her eyes closed, a faint smile on her lips as he leaned in and

y all stared, first at the screen, then at me. My face went numb. The laser pointer slipped from my

the button. The screen went black. But the image was burned into my mind,

. My entire world had just collapsed in front of an audience. The silence stretc

e carefully neutral. "Per

c movements, my mind a churning vortex of shock and white-hot pain. I walked out

he turns I made. All I could see was that image. Sarah and M

Too quiet. I followed the faint scent of incense to the med

ion serene. She looked up at me, her eyes calm, as if nothing had happened. As

she said, her voice a

I managed to choke

did i

d in the doorway, my fists clenched at my sides, every muscle in my body screaming. I had love

saw a flash of a girl with long, dark hair before I passed out. Everyone told me it was Sarah, the quiet girl who spent her days at the temple. From that moment on, she was my angel. I dedic

just desecra

embling with a rage I had never felt befor

thing-annoyance? inconvenience?-crossed her face before i

ty system?"

for the presentation. I must

iry sound. "That was

w could I do this to you?" Just... "That was careless of you

he?" I d

He's from the temple. An o

en sound. "Is that what you call it?

of emotion. "You're being dramat

the devotion, the fifteen years of one-sided adoration-it was all a lie. I had been in love with a fantasy, a

words tasted like poison, but th

If that's what you f

than any screaming match or tearful confession could ever be.

Fifteen years of devotion doesn't die in an instant. Maybe this was a mistake. A moment

ne month. No Mark. No one else. Just you and me. Let me try to save this. After one month, if y

his game, was on my knees, metaphorically, in fron

nth," she agreed, as if granting a small favor to a child. "But y

f relief and self-loathing. I had my month. O