Returning After He Chose His Mistress

I've been married to my husband, Kaison, for three years.

He never spent any anniversaries with me. Instead, he traveled to countless countries with his idealized love, Alexis. On my birthday, he once again abandoned me, saying, "I have a business trip for a week. Be good and wait for me to come back."

I silently watched him leave, knowing this trip was just an excuse to spend time with Alexis. He thought I would quietly accept it, relying on my calm demeanor. But this time, he was unaware of my plan.

By the time he returned, I'd already be on a plane, leaving the country for a fresh start.

Two months ago, I kept asking Kaison for a special surprise for my birthday. He agreed, and I was filled with anticipation. But when he came out of the bedroom, dragging his suitcase, he told me, as he did every year, "I got you a topaz necklace, so I won't be with you for your birthday this time."

I felt a sharp pain in my heart. He didn’t notice my distress and continued to the living room. I remembered how I painstakingly selected every piece of furniture during the renovations, hoping to create a cozy home. But Kaison was never satisfied, frequently praising Alexis's taste to my face.

There was a time I wanted to hang our wedding photo on the living room wall, but he disagreed, insisting that the painting Alexis gave us was a better fit for the space. My heart ached, and all I could do was lower my head and swallow my endless sadness.

Seeing my silence, he gently took my hand and said, "Be good, and I'll make it up to you when I get back." I'd heard these promises too often, yet my eyes still filled with unshed tears. I looked up at him with a glimmer of hope, asking, "Could you stay with me for this birthday?"

He released my hand, irritation flashing across his face. "You're getting more unreasonable by the day. I'm buried in work; do you expect me to drop everything for you?"

"Would it make you happy if I just lazed around all day?"

"Just wear the topaz necklace for your birthday party. I'll be away for a week; be good and wait for me."

He spoke as he moved toward the door. As if remembering something, he turned back to remind me, "Oh, and don't forget to water the roses in the garden."

Those roses were a gift from Alexis, and I was allergic to pollen, a detail he never cared to remember. Anytime I got near them, my nose itched, I'd sneeze constantly, and red rashes would appear all over my body, making me feel awful.

Once, when I was already feeling unwell, I lay on the sofa struggling to breathe, overwhelmed by the fragrance of the flowers. I endured the discomfort and softly pleaded when he returned, "I feel really unwell. Could we move those flowers