Once, I considered myself fortunate. My wife and I lived a modest yet comfortable life, both dedicated to our careers and cherishing weekends with our child. Arguments were rare, and our family was often admired for its apparent harmony. Perhaps this very trust blinded me to the reality of the situation I now face.
Just over a month ago, my company celebrated the completion of a major project. After months of intense work, the team was eager to unwind, enjoy a good meal, and toast to our success. Though I’m not a heavy drinker, my colleagues kept refilling my glass throughout the evening.
The atmosphere was lively, with managers and employees mingling freely. Around 9 PM, feeling lightheaded, I asked my supervisor if I could leave early. He laughed and patted my shoulder:
“You’re leaving already? It’s still early! Stay a bit longer and enjoy the night.”
Reluctantly, I stayed. As the evening progressed, a new female colleague, who had joined the company just a few months prior, sat beside me. In her early twenties, she spoke with great respect. She turned to me and said:
“Could you mentor me in the future? I’m still new and have much to learn.”
I smiled and replied:
“Of course, feel free to ask me anything.”
Since we were seated together, we ended up chatting extensively. The party’s relaxed vibe and laughter made it easy to converse without drawing attention.
Sitting together, we talked extensively. (Illustrative image)
When the party ended, she was heavily intoxicated and unable to call a ride. Concerned about leaving a young woman in such a state, I offered to take her home. Initially, I planned to hail a taxi, but she mentioned her apartment was far away and that she lived alone, as her parents were in the countryside. Seeing her repeatedly vomiting, I decided to book a nearby hotel room for her to rest until she sobered up and could arrange a pickup.
Honestly, the alcohol had clouded my judgment too. My intention was solely to help a colleague, with no ulterior motives. However, as I escorted her into the hotel lobby, my life took an unexpected and surreal turn.
The elevator doors opened, and out stepped my wife, accompanied by a man a few years younger than me. They stood close, her arm linked with his. Our eyes met, and I froze. She, too, was stunned for a moment, her face flushing—whether from alcohol or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell. The man quickly released her arm, and she turned away without a word. My colleague whispered:
“Do you know her?”
I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat.
“Yes… she’s my wife.”
My colleague’s eyes widened, and she fell silent. My wife said nothing, rushing out of the hotel. I was too stunned to think about anything else. I told my colleague:
“Go rest in your room. I’ll ask the staff to check on you. I have to leave.”
I turned and walked away. On the drive home, my mind was blank. I wondered if I had imagined it all, or if their encounter was merely coincidental. But if it were innocent, why were they leaving a hotel together?
I took my colleague to the hotel to rest. (Illustrative image)
Unable to bear it any longer, I called my wife. After several rings, she answered. I asked directly:
“Who were you with at the hotel?”
There was a brief silence before she replied calmly:
“You saw us, so why ask?”
My heart felt crushed, but I tried to explain:
“I only took my colleague there because she was too drunk. I did nothing wrong.”
My wife scoffed:
“If I had taken a man to a hotel, would you believe me?”
I was speechless. If I had seen that, I wouldn’t have believed it either. But what hurt the most was her next statement:
“Let’s get a divorce. I’m tired of this.”
After that call, I stayed awake all night. I didn’t know how long her affair had been going on, or when our marriage began to fracture. Had I been too focused on work and neglected her? Had our daily routine driven us apart?
I don’t deny that taking my colleague to the hotel was impulsive. Even without wrongdoing, my actions could be misinterpreted. If I were in my wife’s position, I’d likely be furious too.
What haunts me most is whether that night was a coincidence, or if my absence at the hotel would have kept everything hidden.
After ten years of marriage, I believed honesty was the foundation of our relationship. Yet, in a single night, my trust crumbled.
To this day, I haven’t signed the divorce papers. Not because I’m unaffected, but because too many questions remain unanswered. Should I fight to save our marriage, or let go when trust no longer exists?
