Chapter 2
Rhett saw me standing stiffly at the door, his gaze turning cold.
“The way you look now isn’t suitable for accompanying me to the dinner party. I can only have Nyra take your place. This is all your fault.”
My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe.
In the elevator, I gripped the cold key in my pocket, feeling lost inside.
I knew Rhett had a serious sex addiction, but he hadn’t touched me for over a month.
Before, he would cling to me almost every night for sex. Now, he just collapsed beside me to sleep, claiming he was tired.
I was lost in chaotic thoughts when my phone suddenly rang.
“Hello, is this Ms. Liora? Your husband Rhett’s medical examination results are ready for pickup at your earliest convenience.”
Then I remembered-because he hadn’t touched me in so long, I was worried there was a problem and insisted he get a comprehensive checkup.
The moment I hung up, a spark of hope ignited in my heart.
Ignoring the burning pain in my legs and the dull ache in my waist, I stepped on the gas and sped toward the hospital.
At the hospital, the smell of disinfectant was cold and sharp.
I held that thin report, my fingertips trembling.
The doctor pushed up his glasses, looking at me with a mixture of pity and confusion: “Mrs. Gray, your husband’s physical functions are very good, even excessively active.”
“But his recent sexual activity has been too frequent, damaging his core functions. If this continues, he may face erectile dysfunction in the future.”
Sexual activity too frequent?
But he hadn’t touched me for over a month!
I gripped the paper tightly, the thin report almost crumpling in my hands.
Every word on it was like a knife, continuously cutting my heart.
So he didn’t not want to make love.
He had just switched partners.
I don’t even remember how I got home.
The room was pitch black, and I sat on the cold sofa, waiting until deep into the night.
The door lock made a slight turning sound, and Rhett finally came home, reeking of alcohol.
He froze when he saw me, paused, then staggered toward me.
“Liora?” He leaned down, his warm body enveloping me, his voice tired but trying to please me.
Rhett’s burning lips kissed my cheek as he apologized in a hoarse whisper:
“I was too impulsive today, I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you. Don’t be angry, okay?”
If not for that examination report, I would have almost softened again.
“Rhett, when I was doing laundry, I noticed your underwear has gotten bigger lately. Why?”
Rhett’s body stiffened, then he chuckled softly, holding me tighter:
“Baby, those were just ill fitting-they were too tight, so I had to stretch them out a bit. If you don’t like them, I’ll throw them away. Tomorrow I’ll have Nyra
give you my size, and you can buy some new ones.”
I clenched my fists and continued asking: “Then why haven’t you touched me for over a month?”
“Work’s been too exhausting,” he sighed, burying his face in my chest. “Endless meetings every day, endless documents to sign. I just want to sleep when I get home. Please, Liora, can you let me rest?”
I took a deep breath and asked the final question: “Can you fire Nyra?”
The air instantly froze.
After a long silence, Rhett slowly sat up straight, staring at me in the darkness.
He wasn’t angry. Instead, his voice became gentle with pity.
“Actually, I’ve been hiding something.”
“Nyra… she’s not my assistant.”
Rhett held my cold hands and said: “She’s actually New York’s most famous sex addiction counselor.”
“I’m sick. I can’t control myself, and I always hurt you.”
“Seeing your pained expression in bed feels like a knife stabbing my heart. I feel so guilty, so I found her to treat my condition.”
“Sleeping separately and not touching you are all part of the treatment. I want to get better-to live a normal life with you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh coldly. Even now, Rhett was still lying.
I was shaking with anger as I pulled the medical report from my bag and threw it viciously in front of him.
“Is this the result of your treatment?!”
Rhett didn’t even glance at it, directly throwing the paper on the floor. His tone turned cold, filled with impatience and disappointment:
“Liora! Stop overthinking! I’m working hard for this family. Can’t you just drop it?”
He stood up, the gentleness in his eyes replaced by anger and mockery.
“You stay home all day, swipe my credit cards, get facials with those Manhattan housewives, stroll down Fifth Avenue-what more could you want?”
“Do you want to break up this family? Do you want to ruin everything?”
I looked at Rhett in shock, as if I had never truly seen this man clearly.
To him, I was just a spoiled housewife who lived off his money and only caused trouble and paranoid thoughts.
My body trembled violently.
With one last thread of hope, I looked up at him: “Rhett, let’s have a child. Didn’t you say the treatment was working?”
“You used to say you couldn’t bear nine months without touching me. Now you can. Let’s have a child.”
Rhett’s eyes darted away, he guiltily avoided my gaze, finally saying irritably: “I’m tired, we’ll talk about it later!”
With that, he fled into the bedroom like an escape, slamming the door shut with a “bang.”
In the dark living room, I was left alone.
