After catching my wife in bed with another man, I remarried novel Chapter 1

On the day of our fifth wedding anniversary,

I walked into our bedroom to find my wife, Samantha, lying on our bed, her cheeks flushed, wrapped in the arms of Michael, her first love.

With a soft, pleading tone, she confessed, “Marrying Ryan was something I had no control over, but I made sure to save my first time for you.

For five years, I’ve stayed faithful to that promise. To keep him from trying anything, I even told him I had a medical condition.”

Michael, clearly touched by her words, pulled her close, and they began having sex again, right there, in my bed.

All this time, I had thought Samantha was a modest woman, so I never pushed her.

But after a year of marriage without ever sleeping together, I swallowed my pride and asked her for intimacy.

Every time I brought it up, though, she pushed back hard. Eventually, she handed me a doctor’s note, claiming she had some kind of issue that made it impossible.

"The doctor said I’m not physically able to have sex right now."

I gave in and didn’t push her any further, but that “condition” of hers dragged on for five years.

For five long years, I did everything I could—taking her to appointments, making sure she took her medication, and being there for her emotionally.

But she’d always snap at me, “Is that all you ever think about? Sex?”

Today, I was supposed to be out of town on a business trip, but a heavy storm grounded all the flights.

So, I decided to surprise her and spend our anniversary together.

When I got home, the first thing I saw was clothes scattered all over the floor.

Her underwear was hanging off the bedroom doorknob.

My blood boiled. I almost grabbed the door handle, but at the last second, I stopped myself.

I wanted to give her a chance—one last bit of dignity, to come out and explain.

So, I sat in the living room, torturing myself, listening to the sounds of them having sex in our bed. They didn’t stop until dawn.

As the first rays of sunlight hit my face, I realized how pointless it all was.

I couldn’t keep living as her husband in name only.

“Samantha, we’re even now.”

She let out a bitter laugh, yanked off her own ring, and threw both of ours at me, her voice full of spite.

“Fine, go ahead and leave. If you walk out, don’t ever think about coming back. A husband from a poor family like you really thought you were something special, huh?

Five years of my youth wasted on you. Consider my debt to you paid—we’re done!”

The cold January air bit at me as I dragged my suitcase down the street.

I never thought leaving the Carter household would be this easy.

But then again, a marriage certificate doesn’t guarantee love, much less a pair of wedding rings.

Back when we were getting married, I wanted to show her family I wasn’t in it for their money, so I suggested we sign a prenuptial agreement. Samantha thought it was too much hassle.

She said we didn’t need a marriage certificate, just the ceremony.

I agreed, eager to marry her. Now, I realize she wasn’t trying to avoid trouble—she was just leaving herself a way out.