I sighed. I had no more energy for this. I pulled out my suitcase and began packing. Alice and I had known each other since childhood. We had been together for over twenty years. We only married because her parents pressured her into it.

I had gone to comfort her and on a whim, she turned to me with a bright, almost desperate smile and said, "Why don’t we just settle for each other and forget about it?"

My heart had pounded that day. I had convinced myself that we could find happiness in marriage. I was wrong.

On our wedding night, she had looked at me and said, "Adam, I know you too well. So well that there’s no excitement at all. Let’s sleep in separate rooms, okay?"

I didn’t want to force her into anything, so I agreed. And for two years, we lived as strangers under the same roof. Over time, her patience with me grew thinner, her coldness more biting, as if I had wronged her in some way.

Three months ago, her company hired Mike as an assistant—a young, fresh-faced man who brought light to her once-icy demeanor. For the first time in years, she smiled, laughed. But only for him. Meanwhile, she had nothing but resentment for me.

One evening, out of nowhere, she snapped, "Adam, why did you even want to marry me in the first place? You’re so dull, you know that?"

I had blamed myself. Maybe I was boring. Maybe I wasn't enough. So I tolerated her, forgave her, gave her space. But then she grew bolder. The stolen glances, the whispered conversations, the flirtations—they escalated. And tonight, she had the audacity to bring him into our bedroom for hours. That was my breaking point.

I shoved a few more of my belongings into the suitcase, listening to their laughter echo from the master bedroom. Then, without hesitation, I opened the door and walked out. The next morning, my phone rang.

Alice’s voice came through, casual, almost bored. "Adam, you're not at home?"

I lay sprawled on the bed in my family’s old house, still half-asleep.

"You didn’t even make breakfast. Where the hell did you go? Mike and I are starving, do you know that?"

Her sheer audacity left me speechless for several seconds. She hadn’t even noticed I had moved out. I wasn’t in the mood to ask what she and Mike had done last night. I didn’t care anymore.

Calmly, I said, "I’m not obligated to cook for you. Alice, this marriage is over. I’ll have the divorce papers ready by today."