My name is Lily Anderson, thirty-two years old, and I have been married to Ethan Carter for eight years. We grew up in the same small community in Virginia, where our parents had been friends since they were young. Our families were so close that everyone believed it was only a matter of time before we became in-laws.

My mother often told me that when I had just learned to walk, I loved toddling after “chubby little Ethan.” There was even a time when I yanked his toy truck away, making both families laugh for an entire afternoon. They used to tease, “Just wait—when they grow up, these two will end up together.” I only offered a shy laugh whenever I heard that.

As kids, we were close, but as adults, we became very different people.
I was serious, introverted, and had never fallen in love. Ethan, on the other hand… was known as the town’s heartbreaker. Flings, short-lived romances, casual dates—he had so many that I eventually stopped keeping track.

But when we both turned thirty and all our friends had already gotten married, our parents began discussing our future more earnestly. They said we understood each other since childhood, that if we married, I’d never have to worry about being treated poorly.

I hesitated for a long time. Yet out of trust for my parents, I eventually said yes.

Our wedding was warm and intimate. I stepped into Ethan’s home as a new wife—with a mixture of excitement, maturity, and a bit of naïve hope.

The first years of our marriage were peaceful. My in-laws treated me like their own daughter, especially my mother-in-law—she always cared about my feelings and defended me over trivial household matters. Ethan was loving and attentive during that time. I truly believed that this was enough for a lifetime.

But then… I realized he had never really abandoned his old habits.

It started with strange text messages, unfamiliar perfume lingering on his shirts, and how he always avoided my questions. I tried to convince myself he was just busy, tired, or simply careless. But one night, after Ethan had too much to drink, he let slip a sentence that shattered me:

“Lily… you don’t know how to make a husband happy at all.”

I froze.

I had never dated before marriage—I didn’t understand the things he expected. Ethan, meanwhile, had far too much experience… so much that I often felt like a stranger lost inside my own marriage.

After that night, we drifted apart. Ethan came home later and later, disappearing for long stretches without explanation. I wasn’t unreasonable, but my heart felt like it was being crushed.

And then I learned the truth…
He was seeing someone else.

The painful irony was that the person who supported me the most during that time was none other than my mother-in-law. She knew her son had a wandering nature and feared I would be the one to suffer. She never defended him—instead, she stood by me, urging me not to endure in silence or let anyone mistreat me.

The breaking point came on a rainy afternoon.

My mother-in-law discovered Ethan at a small hotel with his mistress. Without hesitation, she grabbed me, called a few friends to witness it, and marched straight to the scene.

“You don’t need to be afraid. I’m here.” she said, as though I were still a child.

We stood at the hotel door. She pounded on it, shouting in fury. I hid behind her, my hands icy cold, my heart thudding painfully.

The door swung open.

And in that instant… my entire world spun.

Ethan’s mistress wasn’t the seductive, reckless woman I had imagined. She stood there with pressed lips and icy eyes. When she saw my mother-in-law, she broke into a chilling smile.

Then she said:

“I warned you already. I said I’d make you pay.”

My mother-in-law froze. All the color drained from her face, as though her blood had vanished.

I didn’t understand.
Why was she talking to my mother-in-law like she was the true target?

Before I could ask anything, my mother-in-law grabbed me and pulled me away from the hallway, trembling as if something far more terrifying was lurking behind that door.

She said nothing the entire ride home.

And I couldn’t speak either.
That woman’s words echoed endlessly inside my head—words aimed not at me… but at my mother-in-law.

As soon as we reached home, my mother-in-law called Ethan back. Her voice was sharp but shaking:

“Ethan, you must end it with her. Immediately. Not another second.”

When Ethan entered the living room, there was no remorse, no regret. Instead, his eyes held a defiant stubbornness.

“I won’t break up with her. I love her. And I’m going to marry her.”

My heart hit the floor.

My mother-in-law burst into tears, pounding the armrest:

“Have you lost your mind?! You’re throwing away your wife, your family, everything—for that woman?!”

Ethan narrowed his eyes.

“You don’t understand. I have to take responsibility for her.”

I couldn’t listen anymore.
It felt like I was being ripped apart by a storm.

But the storm… had only just begun.

A week later, Ethan’s mistress—Hannah (I’m translating Hương into Hannah to fit the American setting)—messaged me and asked to meet.

I went to the café with a mixture of dread and numbness. I expected her to be arrogant, brazen, or mocking like she had been at the hotel.

But she wasn’t.

Hannah sat calmly, hands folded, her eyes more exhausted than confrontational.

“Lily… I want to talk. Not to apologize. But so you understand why all this is happening.”

I stared at her.

“Why do you want to destroy my family?”

Hannah pressed her lips together, then spoke slowly:

“Because your mother-in-law once did the same thing to my family.”

My breath caught.

Then she told me a story I could hardly believe even in a movie:

Years before marrying my father-in-law, my mother-in-law had been the other woman—breaking up another family. That man, who already had a wife, was Hannah’s father.

Hannah’s mother had once dragged little Hannah along to confront them, but her husband abandoned his wife and child, blinded by the affair. Heartbroken, Hannah’s mother fell ill and eventually passed away in despair.

Later, my mother-in-law left Hannah’s father behind and married into her new, stable family—while Hannah’s father lived alone and miserable for the rest of his life.

Hannah said, her voice hollow:

“I grew up with hatred. I swore I’d make that woman pay.”

I felt dizzy, as if someone had struck my skull.

I whispered:

“And Ethan… he’s just your tool for revenge?”

Hannah shook her head, though her eyes looked strangely sad.

“At first, yes. But later… I fell in love with him for real. I didn’t plan to get pregnant, but the baby is already far along. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

She placed a hand on her belly.

I stared—my heart breaking for the second time.

Her voice softened:

“Lily, I know you did nothing wrong. But I can’t stop. I lost my childhood because of your mother-in-law. I have to take everything back.”

It took me a long time before I could speak:

“And what about me? What did I do to deserve this?”

Hannah bit her lip. She didn’t answer.

Because no one cared about me.
No one asked whether I could bear all of this.

I walked out of the café into the gloomy Virginia sky. The wind blew hard, but I couldn’t feel it.

Everything around me faded into a heavy, grey haze.

And in that moment, I knew—

I couldn’t stay in this marriage for even one more day.

I had endured enough.

Enough pain.
Enough betrayal.
Enough filthy secrets that had nothing to do with me, yet somehow became mine to carry.

I had to leave—if I wanted to save myself.