Divorce Amidst Betrayal

Ten years into our marriage, my husband let out a thunderous fart in bed.

To lighten the mood, I joked, "Loose cheeks, loud blasts!"

He turned a shade of angry red, got up, and stormed out, not returning for the night. I initially thought my joke had bruised his ego until I discovered the condom that had been expelled by that fart.

==============================

"Blub, blub, blub — blub!"

An unpleasant odor filled the room, pulling my attention away from my phone. Instinctively, I leaped out of bed and moved to the window for fresh air, distancing myself from Jameson, who lay beside me. Despite having been together from school uniforms to wedding attire and living together for a decade, some smells are simply intolerable, and I had to escape it.

Jameson noticed my swift action and jokingly remarked, "Even a monkey climbing a tree isn't as quick as you."

Amused, I played along with his joke. "Old Jameson, you've been letting them rip more often lately. Maybe age is catching up with you."

I gently suggested, "Maybe we should go to the doctor for a checkup."

"This can't go on like this. Breathing in your fumes every day, I'm bound to develop lung problems soon."

I suspected that stress was messing with his stomach. I'd been wanting to suggest a doctor's visit several times recently. But Jameson's job had been demanding; though his company claims it's a five-day workweek, he rarely gets a full weekend off.

The past two months have been particularly hectic, with no weekends off and late nights, only returning home after ten. Seeing him so busy, I'd refrained from bringing it up. I just wanted him to come home and rest.

Tonight, he came back relatively early; it's only half-past eight now. A quick visit to urgent care would take about two hours, and he could still get a good night's sleep afterward.

The sooner he checks, the sooner he can get treated, and I suffer less too.

I was about to change clothes to accompany him to the hospital. Jameson, however, lay in bed, scrolling through his phone with disinterest, acting like it was a bad idea.

"What man doesn't fart a lot? You're making a big deal out of nothing. You're just wasting money."

I felt irritated. I considered myself a considerate wife, yet here he was, acting ungrateful.

I raised an eyebrow. Jameson and I usually had a great relationship, and he’d never spoken to me like this before. Otherwise, I would not have chosen him as my partner. I understand he's stressed out from work and that both his physical and mental health are strained. But that doesn't mean I don't have a temper or that I should always cater to him. I was about to snap back when suddenly, he started releasing again:

"Blub, blub, blub —"

This time, I couldn't hold back my laughter, the tension fading with the sound of the fart. I chuckled and teased, "Loose cheeks, loud