That morning, I saw my husband, who was supposed to be on a business trip, pinning a woman against the railing of the balcony across from me.

I grabbed the curtains, intending to close them.

The guy behind me leaned in closer.

His voice was hoarse as he said, "Don’t close them. Isn’t this kind of thrilling?"

If only he knew that the woman across the way was his own sister — now that would be even more thrilling.

My husband is cheating on me.

He's keeping a girl several years younger than me. She's cute and innocent-looking, wearing pleated skirts like a high school girl, so fresh you could almost squeeze water from her.

Like a creep, I once followed them during one of their dates.

She would sweetly call my husband "Chris," always smiling brightly at him. When they sat together, half of her body would be leaning against him…

My usually serious husband couldn’t stop grinning when he was with her.

He’d gently whisper to her, coaxing her, and even finish the ice cream she couldn’t eat.

But when my husband returned home after their dates, his face turned expressionless as he looked at me, full of weariness.

The words he spoke to me were cold, devoid of any emotion.

I suppressed my fury, wanting so badly to throw the photos I had taken in his face, to scream at him and demand a divorce.

But reason held me back.

At this point, I didn’t have the leverage to divorce him, because he controlled all of the family’s assets.

I had no idea how much I’d get if I acted impulsively and filed for divorce.

Besides, a divorce alone wouldn’t satisfy the hatred festering in my heart.

So, I hired someone to follow the girl. Her name is Jasmine Sullivan, in her twenties, at the peak of youth.

Recently, she's been frequenting the obstetrics and gynecology department at the hospital, and my husband’s smile seems to be growing wider by the day.

It seems she’s pregnant.

They’re about to have a child, a child to carry on my husband’s name.

Children have always been my sore spot.