After I Stopped Loving Him, He Lost His Mind - Chapter 1

In the third year of my marriage to my husband, I was the one who asked for a divorce.

Everyone thought I was bluffing to get his attention. He thought the same.

Later, he started making headlines with different women, all in a desperate attempt to make me obedient.

At first, I cried and screamed every night, waiting for him to come home.

But my pain only emboldened him further, turning me into a laughingstock for everyone around me.

Eventually, I stopped fighting. That’s when he went mad, demanding, “What’s this? A new tactic to win me back?”

I wish I could have seen what his gentleness was like.

But it’s too late for that now.

In the third year of my marriage to Jack Sullivan, he brought home yet another woman.

She was exactly his type: young, radiant, and exuding a soft elegance–completely different from me.

From her smug, taunting words, I pieced together how they met.

Her name was Emily Blair, Jack’s new assistant.

She was also proof of his abuse of power.

Without any proper vetting, Jack had personally placed her in the role, despite the fact that his previous assistant had been with him for years.

Friends had warned me repeatedly to keep an eye on Jack. “He seems like he’s caught up in some midlife crisis,” they’d say.

But I was too exhausted to care anymore.

Being Mrs. Sullivan for three years had drained me, leaving me a stranger to myself.

The day I was diagnosed with cancer was also the day I first met Emily Blair.

Holding the thermos my mother–in–law had handed me, I caught her hopeful expression and chose to give in.

No matter how ugly things got between Jack and me, my mother–in–law had always been kind.

From the very beginning, she had shown me nothing but warmth, even warning me about Jack’s flaws. But back then, all I could see was him.

For three years, she had taken my side in every argument, even when I was in the wrong.

Sitting in the backseat of the car, watching Jack’s office building come into view, I felt none of the anticipation I once had.

Even when faced with the whispers of employees, I had learned to remain unbothered.

What I didn’t expect, however, was to encounter Jack’s latest fling here–his latest obsession.

As I scrolled through my phone, I could feel someone’s eyes on me.

Every time I glanced up, the gaze disappeared, but the feeling remained.

I knew that look.

I’d seen it countless times.

It was the look of women who despised me for being Mrs. Sullivan, who wanted nothing more than to take my place. Their viper–like stares

haunted even my dreams.

Emily tugged at her friend’s sleeve and whispered nervously, “She’s not what I imagined. Didn’t they say she was crazy and mean?”

I heard her.

That’s when I finally got a good look at her face.

In that instant, I knew she was exactly Jack’s type–like the one he had loved and lost.

The floor–to–ceiling windows reflected our contrasting figures:

Me, vibrant yet with dead eyes.

Her, youthful and full of life.

From the start, I was never the kind of woman Jack wanted.

But moths always fly into flames, heedless of the consequences–even if it means their death.

I took the water she handed me, my gaze scrutinizing her closely.

“Mrs. Sullivan, why are you staring at me? Did I do something wrong?” she asked cautiously.

“No,” I replied, a faint smile on my lips. “I’m just curious what kind of woman climbs into Jack Sullivan’s bed.”

She froze, clearly not expecting my bluntness.

After a long pause, she feigned innocence and looked me straight in the eye.

“Obviously, someone young and beautiful. After all, Mrs. Sullivan, you…”

I knew what she was implying–that I was old and worn–out.

I’d seen this tactic too many times to care.

Not wanting to waste another second, I handed her the thermos.

“Give this to Jack for me. I have somewhere else to be.”

“Oh… okay.”

That’s when I saw her name: Emily Blair.

How fitting–it was such a lovely name.

I’d seen it before, tucked into the notes Jack left on his gifts.

I had considered staying to see how Jack treated Emily.

Would he be gentle? Would he show her patience?

But the pain was too much.

Lately, I’d been plagued by excruciating headaches, at first assuming it was just insomnia.

But now, the pain persisted even during the day.

I knew something was seriously wrong.

Jack would probably enjoy eating whatever Emily cooked for him. After leaving the thermos with her, I went straight to the hospital for tests.

The results were just as I had expected.

The doctor told me I wouldn’t make it past the fall.

How poetic, I thought. To die in the season of harvest–isn’t that a kind of beauty too?

I thanked the doctor softly as he handed me a prescription for painkillers.

When you’ve witnessed so much death, the only thing left to fear is pain.

Perhaps these pills would help me leave with dignity, unlike my parents, who had died in agony and despair.