The Heart That Turned Cold

After seven years of marriage, my wife told me she would no longer share a bed with me. She said she was frigid. Once, after getting drunk, she ended up crossing that line with me. When she sobered up and realized what had happened, she locked herself in the bathroom and scrubbed herself clean for three days, sick with disgust the entire time. Later, she came back and demanded that I get a vasectomy if I wanted our dead bedroom to come back to life. I agreed, but I never went through with it. When her belly eventually began to show, the woman who had once worshiped the DINK lifestyle suddenly started looking forward to the arrival of that child. I told her I lied about the vasectomy. She said nothing about it, but for two weeks after that, I was beaten up, stripped and thrown at the company's entrance, kidnapped and strapped to a roulette while perverts enjoyed the show like I was a monkey. … By the time I escaped from the hospital, I was already barely holding on. Then I saw her lying in the arms of her old classmate, calmly ending the pregnancy. "I can't believe that bastard lied about the vasectomy," she said. "Just the thought that the baby might be his makes me sick. I'd rather not take the risk." That was the last straw. If she truly believed her body was nothing more than a graveyard, then I would make sure she got exactly what she wished for. Chapter 1 Cruel Wife The man who had paid to humiliate me that night was met with every bit of resistance I had left. It was useless. By the time it was over, I had been beaten badly enough to be dumped at the hospital and left there. Relying on sheer willpower, I escaped from the ward. And then I ran straight into my four-month-pregnant wife, Yvonne Kingsley. She was lying in the arms of her college classmate, Zachary Gray, her face flushed with bashful sweetness. And this was the same woman who claimed she was frigid. But what hit me like a sledgehammer was the casual conversation her best friends were having. "A shame she has to terminate it. She'd be stoked if it were Zach's!" "She thought her simp of a husband really got the vasectomy. The moment she found out she was pregnant, she bought out ten years' worth of mother-and-baby products from the mall." "And she even booked family photos all the way up to the next ten years." "Who would've thought her idiot husband still had a trick up his sleeve?" I was shaking in the shadows. Though my body was battered, bruised, and covered in wounds, physical pain was nothing compared to the agony my soul was going through. I prayed my eyes were wrong. I prayed my ears had misheard, but they had not. The woman lying in Zachary's arms was my wife of seven years. I heard every single word of that conversation. To them, it sounded no more interesting than discussing a grocery list. But every word pierced straight through me. I had already been crumbling. Now, I was collapsing completely. For seven years we were married. For seven years, she had never once initiated a hug. Even when I accidentally touched her, she would react with disgust, as if the vilest creature in the world had kissed her. The old me believed she was frigid when she told me. I knew better after this scene. It was just another one of her lies. Yvonne raised her head and looked at Zachary with a tenderness and dependence I had never seen before. "We'll have our own child once I'm better, Zach. I'm not keeping anything related to Geronimo. He lied to me and ruined my chance of having your baby. I'll never forgive him." I recognized that impatience and disgust in her eyes. It was the same look she had given me every day for the last seven years. My heart was torn to shreds, but the pain gifted my mind a level of clarity it never had before. This was what it meant to look at someone like they were trash. I had spent the last seven years lying to myself. What an idiot I had been. When the nurse called for her, that woman walked forward with determination in her steps. "I'm going in. I'm not taking any chances. Not when that man's child might still be inside me." A heartbroken Zachary kissed the top of her head. "I'll wait for you. Be brave." She had just dismissed what might have been my unborn child like it meant nothing. That wordless cruelty poisoned the last of my hope, shriveling it up until nothing remained. Chapter 2 The Bloody Truth The operating room doors closed like the final page of a book. In an instant, Yvonne and I were cut apart, as though we had been pushed into two different worlds. I wanted to laugh, but something caught in my throat. A metallic taste spread through my mouth, and something darker, heavier, sank inside my chest. Hopelessness was growing in me. I stood behind the hose cabinet like a broken statue for what felt like an eternity. By the time the doors finally opened again, the wind had already dried my tears. A pale Yvonne was pushed out from the room. Her best friends huddled around her, and the first thing that came out of her mouth was, "Set up the next punishment. We had those perverts choose him this time. Smuggle him to Southeast Aldoria next time. The underground circles there are far worse. "He can be the toughest man alive, but he'll still come back broken." One of her friends seemed unable to bear it anymore and frowned. "I don't think that's a good idea. He's been loyal to you, Yvonne. Everything you have now comes from him. If you don't love him anymore, just say it out loud. Staying is just torment for both of you. You've punished him twice. Just let it go—" Yvonne interrupted her friend coldly, "Don't tell me what to do. Shut up if you want out. Someone else will take your place. That bastard lied about the vasectomy and made me go through this. He has to pay." Her fury frightened the others. They immediately nodded along. "Alright, calm down. We'll handle it right away." I could feel my fury boiling, burning me from within. My nails were digging into the cold, rough walls of the hospital. "What if he starts suspecting you if you don't stop?" Yvonne sneered and scoffed at the remark. "So what? He's an idiot who won't see the truth. He'll always think I would love him back if he never stopped loving me. Even if he does find out, he probably won't do anything." Her detached expression and merciless words struck me again and again. Every word snuffed out the embers of love I had for her until they died out. They turned my head and forced me to face the truth whether I liked it or not. That explained everything. The stripping, the slave seal they seared on me in the black market. Everything I had suffered, all the humiliation and torment meant to strip away my dignity, had never truly been about the fake vasectomy. It was because there had been even the slightest chance that the child was mine. She wanted to clear every single obstacle standing between her and Zachary. She was disgusted by my very existence. She hated my soul and thought of me as nothing more than trash that had to be taken out. Even my bloodline was something she had to purge, to keep herself "clean." It was absurd. It was despairing. Both feelings tangled together in my mind and dragged me down like heavy water. Zachary was approaching Yvonne with a bouquet of beautiful roses in his hand. The ice-cold fury on her face melted instantly. She became a tearful woman in love, touched by her lover's surprise. Then, she threw herself into Zachary's arms and kissed him, even though they were still in a public hallway. I clenched my jaw until pain spread through me. My hands had nearly lost all strength, and every part of me ached. Even so, I held tightly to the wall, as if it were the only thing keeping me upright. With the last of my strength, I dragged myself away from that suffocating place. Chapter 3 Tricked Again This marriage was something I was proud of. I married the woman I loved, after all. And now, it was the worst kind of torture I could ever imagine. I could not help wondering whether the woman who once cried because I caught a cold after running through the rain to pick her up was truly the same person as my wife. If that really was the same woman, I wondered why she would be so eager to shove me into hell. And now I was once again running in the rain with all the might my legs could carry. I tried to convince myself I had misunderstood everything, but I could not. I could not accept the truth. … By the time I somehow made it home, Yvonne was lying on the couch, scrolling through her phone. The sight of me made her eyes flicker with disgust and impatience, but she held it down quickly. There was a slight curve to her belly. How ironic. If I had not witnessed that scene earlier in the afternoon and heard what she had done, I might have actually believed it. "Where have you been? Honestly, you never think before you do anything. You're going to be a father! And how'd you get those wounds? Come here, I'll handle them." She had a frown on her forehead as she waved at me. The old me would have been overjoyed. If she was willing to speak to me, willing to show even the smallest trace of concern, I would have rushed to her side without hesitation. If she had offered to treat my wounds, I might have been happy enough to lose my mind. The old me would have convinced himself that this was her version of love. Now, every single word only sickened me to my stomach. "No, thank you." I did not wait for her response. Instead, I locked myself in the study to process my feelings. Something even more ironic met my eyes. Hundreds of names were spread out on my desk. I wrote them one by one a few days ago. A few days ago, I was wracking my brain to figure out my baby's name. And now my world was turned into something twisted and unrecognizable. I was teetering on the edge of pain and hysteria. Then, Yvonne did something I never expected again. She came in with medicine. She handed the medicine to me, still frowning. Her voice was as cold and proud as ever. "I'm not going to ask you how you hurt yourself. Just finish the meds. Don't make me worry. And don't make the baby worry either." I put on a bitter smile and was about to say no, but when I saw her blowing gently on the medicine to cool it down, my eyes suddenly burned. What a pathetic fool I was. When she fed me the medicine, I failed to push her away in time. Once the liquid hit my stomach, it started to burn, and my consciousness began to fade. … Before everything went to black, I saw that woman spraying disinfecting alcohol on herself, her face covered in disgust. "Get him to Southeast Aldoria and tell them to just keep him barely breathing. They can break him." Once again, I was thrown into a nightmare like a piece of discarded meat. I woke up finding myself tied to a ship's mast. Below the platform, a group of burly men were throwing cash around, bidding over my fate as if I were nothing more than entertainment. "Ten million! That lad is mine! He looks delicious. It'll be worth training him." "I double that offer. They only gave us three days. We have to move fast." "One by one is too boring. That'll take too long. Maybe we should go for it together." "True. Not like we can do anything real gory. Maybe some sadism, but that's all. Group play sounds exciting." … Once again, I escaped from that place of nightmares. Those animals left me alive. But only barely. Chapter 4 Not His Home After they tossed me out of the ship, the first thing I saw was Yvonne. Standing beside her was the man she loved but had never admitted to loving. "Are you alright, Geronimo? Are you hurt? I've been looking for you for days! I was worried sick. I will make those people pay!" She was acting like a devoted wife. Disgust tightened around my throat, leaving me unable to say a single word. Some people were born to be perfect actors, and I was stupid enough to believe her lies for seven years. … I woke up in the hospital, and that woman was finally tearing off some of her disguise. Her eyes were red as she grabbed my hand and pressed it against her now-flat stomach. Like someone deeply wronged, she complained, "Who did you offend? Why do you keep getting into trouble while I'm pregnant? The baby is gone. It's your fault. You have to make up for this!" I bit down hard enough for the metallic taste to spread through my mouth. It was the only thing keeping me from retching. No matter how hard I tried, I could not understand how this woman could act so devoted while feeling nothing at all. She was the one who had pushed all this suffering onto me. She was the one who had ended the pregnancy. And now, she had the nerve to demand that I make it up to her. The edges of my eyes were red, and I had a bitter smile on my lips. Something inside me pushed me to ask, "Are you sure the baby was lost because you were worried about me?" Yvonne stiffened. Her hands clasped together, and a trace of panic flickered through her eyes. "You're not in the right headspace to talk. Heal up. I'll come back tonight." She did not. All I had was the video of her going at it on the bed with Zachary. I went through the discharging paperwork the next day and went home, but there was no place for me there anymore. The house looked nothing like I remembered. Even my belongings were cleared out from the main bedroom. The wedding photo hanging in the living room, the one that had been edited together because she refused to take one with me, had been replaced by intimate photos of her and Zachary. She was smiling genuinely in those photos. It only shredded my heart more. I was dragged back to the memories of all the things I had done just to convince her to take a wedding photo with me. No matter what I tried, she refused. She said, "If you love me, you'll respect me. I don't like taking photos, and I don't smile. Deal with the wedding photos yourself. I don't take photos with anyone." I believed her. I was an idiot. It turned out she could take photos with someone. That someone just was not me. Fine. Then, I would let her have exactly what she wanted. Zachary was looking at me with a smug smile on his lips, but what hurt me more was what he was wearing. It was the last pair of pajamas my mother had given me before she passed away. She had spent two months sewing it for me, stitch by stitch. Yvonne and I had each received a set. But she had disliked hers and thrown it away. Our first fight happened that day. I wanted a divorce, but it ended with her nearly crying and apologizing. She knew how much I cared about the pajamas. I treasured it and barely wore it, but now it was on that man. Then, Zachary lowered his cigarette and burned a mark into the fabric. Something inside me snapped. All the emotions I had been suppressing exploded at once. I rushed forward and swung at him. Zachary let out an exaggerated scream as he stumbled backward. Then, his voice sharpened, sounding like a victim who had barely escaped some terrible abuse. Chapter 5 It Doesn't Matter "Ow! Mr. Sylvaria, please don't kill me! If you don't want me here, I can leave. I can leave right now!" I could not have cared less about Zachary's act. All I wanted to do was tear the pajamas off him. They were my mother's final act of love. And now, they had become a symbol of betrayal. My fingers had just touched the fabric when Yvonne came barging in with a bowl of piping hot chicken soup. She splashed it on me without even asking for the story. The scalding liquid rained down my head and streamed down my shoulders. My skin screamed in agony, but that was not enough for her. Her hand flew across my face with a sharp crack. "What is wrong with you? Get your head checked! Don't go after my guest!" Her eyes were filled with disgust, and my heart shouted out in pain. Tears trickled down my cheeks. This woman was the one I used to treasure, the one I swore I'd protect with my life. Perhaps I had never known her at all. She kept fussing over Zachary, but not a single word reached my ears. Zachary said, "Oh, what a shame I didn't get to have your chicken soup." Yvonne only felt more heartbroken for him. "Now's not the time for that! I can always make another if you want. For my whole life too." I had never known she could make chicken soup. I had never even known she could cook. But then again, it had never been for me. A cold, hopeless feeling seeped into my veins and spread through my entire body. It froze all my fury, leaving behind nothing but a wasteland and a dead heart. An outsider wearing my mother's last keepsake was worth more to this woman than her own husband. Our marriage was perhaps nothing to her. I spent seven years humbling myself just to make her happy, but that meant nothing. Slowly, my hand touched my face, and I wiped the greasy liquid off. Then, with fury burning in my chest, I roared, "You know how much those pajamas mean to me! I cherished them more than anything! You know. You know damn well how much I care. And now this piece of trash is wearing them. "He burned them with his cigarette, and you're defending him? You're my wife! You splashed hot soup on me and slapped me for him. What am I to you? What is my mother's final keepsake to you? Nothing?" She shot me an impatient glare, and her voice grew increasingly impatient. "It's just some stupid pajamas. You're overreacting. Honestly, you're such a loser. You'll never get rid of that poverty buried in your bones. If you say anything rude to Zach again, I will make you pay!" Her face was filled with fury and not a single hint of remorse. She was defending Zachary without even thinking. My heart was well and truly dead. All my pain, anger, and suffering faded with it, leaving only exhaustion and cold indifference behind. I refused to give these bastards a moment of my life. So, in the calmest voice I had ever used, I said, "Let's get divorced, Yvonne."