Secret Heart

1
When I got the call that my wife was in surgery, I battled a hurricane and torrential rain for four hours, driving back to the city.
When I arrived at the hospital, my wife, Stella, was lying in her hospital bed, deliriously calling out, I want my husband! Get my husband in here, now!
Her circle of friends chuckled, teasing her for being so obsessed with her husband.
Everyone said she was madly in love with me.
Their playful jabs made my cheeks flush, but my heart swelled with happiness. I walked over and took Stellas hand. "I'm here."
But she recoiled, yanking her hand away with a frown of disgust. "Get lost! You're not my husband! My husband is Julian!"
The once-lively hospital room fell into a strange, suffocating silence.
One by one, her so-called best friends wore masks of awkwardness, their eyes darting anywhere but at me. I scanned their faces, and the cold truth settled in my stomach: they all knew who Julian was.
Suddenly, I felt like a clown. That look of blissful love Id worn just moments ago must have seemed both pathetic and amusing to them.
Someone stammered, trying to break the tension. "Uh... Leo, don't mind her. Stella's just loopy from the anesthesia. She's talking nonsense."
The others quickly jumped in.
"Yeah, everyone knows how much Stella adores you. She's crazy about you. This is definitely just the drugs talking."
"Right, right! Julian is just her assistant. He could never compare to you in her heart, Leo."
One of them nudged the speaker, a silent warning to shut up.
I said nothing. I could only feel the numbness in my feet, which had been soaked in cold rainwater for over four hours.
Stella was still rambling. "Where's my husband? Where is he? Faye, call my husband, quickly!" Her voice started to crack with a childish pout. "He promised he'd always be with me, so why isn't he here? I can't sleep without his abs..."
My hand, still holding hers, began to tremble. "Stella," I asked, my voice tight, "who am I?"
She looked at me through a hazy fog, and after a long moment, three words slurred from her lips: "Pathetic... loser."
A sharp pain lanced through my heart, and my eyes stung.
We had been high school sweethearts, together from seventeen to thirty. All these years, I had catered to her every whim, given her everything she asked for. And in her eyes, all of it just made me a "pathetic loser."
How laughable... how tragic...
Finally, I picked up Stella's phone and called her assistant, Julian.
When Julian arrived, he walked past me as if I were invisible. He cupped Stella's face, his voice dripping with concern. "Stella, my love, I'm so sorry I'm late. You've suffered so much."
Stella's eyes crinkled into a blissful smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "My love, you're finally here. Someone was pretending to be you just now, but I'm not stupid. How could I not recognize my own husband? I told him to get lost!"
Julian shot me a triumphant glance before cooing at Stella like she was a child. "My girl is so smart."
Stella pointed to her lips. "Don't I get a reward?"
And just like that, they began to kiss, deeply and passionately, as if I wasn't even there.
Watching them, my throat felt raw, and a bitter rage surged through me. I dug my nails into my thighs, trying to ground myself, but I couldn't stop the cold tremors wracking my body.
Her friend, Faye, took pity on me, whispering, "Leo, maybe... maybe you should go home for now? I'm sure Stella will explain everything when she's fully awake."
Explain? They were one step away from consummating their affair right in front of me. What was there left to explain?
The irony was crushing. Half an hour ago, I saw Stella as the perfect wife, a woman who doted on me, a source of pride I would boast about to anyone who would listen. Thirteen years of love and companionship, and we had never even raised our voices at each other. I cherished her, and she adored meor so I thought. We were two perfectly matched souls.
So when that illusion shattered, it triggered a violent earthquake in my world.
And I was destined to be buried in the rubble.
I silently stood up and left the room.
The moment the door closed behind me, I heard a collective sigh of relief from her friends, as if they'd finally gotten rid of a suffocating curse. I realized then that at some point, not just Stella, but her entire circle of friends had silently "removed" me from their world.
I didn't sleep that night. My dreams were a torturous slideshow of our thirteen years together, each memory a fresh stab of pain that left me breathless. A fever took hold, and I tossed and turned, burning up, struggling to wake from the nightmare but unable to open my eyes.
Just as I thought I might be dying, I felt a hand on my forehead and heard someone anxiously calling my name. "Leo... my love."
I had no strength to respond. Tears streamed freely down my face. Only in the darkness of my subconscious did I dare to cry so openly, without fear of being mocked for my weakness.
When I finally regained consciousness, I saw Stella sitting by my bed, her face etched with exhaustion. I hadn't expected to see her. For a moment, I thought last night had been a fever dream, and I could only stare at her, disoriented.
Seeing me awake, she grabbed my hand, her voice filled with relief. "Honey, how are you feeling?"
I pulled my hand from her grasp, my voice cold. "Am I your honey? Or the pathetic loser?"
The color drained from Stella's face. Her eyes reddened as she slapped herself hard across the cheek. "I'm so sorry," she choked out. "It was the anesthesia, I swear. My mind was a total mess. I... I don't know why I would do something so horrible. When I finally came to my senses, I was filled with so much regret and fear."
"I was terrified you would leave me. The doctor wouldn't discharge me, but I left anyway."
With a pained grunt, she struggled to her feet and lifted the hem of her shirt. She'd had an appendectomy, and fresh blood was already seeping through the gauze dressing.
The thought that she had watched over me all night softened the edges of my anger. Looking into her pleading eyes, I allowed a sliver of doubt to creep in. What if she's telling the truth?
Maybe... maybe she wasn't a lost cause. Maybe she had developed a simple crush on a younger, more vivacious man, a fleeting attraction that paled in comparison to her love for me. If she could just snuff out that flame, perhaps we could go back to the way things were.
But the image of them kissing in front of everyone was a fishbone lodged in my throat.
As if reading my mind, Stella leaned in, peppering my face with kisses, her voice thick with tears. "My love, are you disgusted with me? I'll go wash my mouth out. I'll have a doctor peel a layer of skin off my lips, okay? Just please, don't despise me. I love you so much."
"I don't want anyone but you! I don't know why the anesthesia made me act like that. I already fired Julian this morning. No matter what, his actions last night prove he has improper intentions toward me. A man like that, a homewrecker with no morals, is someone I would never, ever be interested in!"
She paused, her expression turning earnest. "You know how much I hate cheaters. How could I ever do something like that?"
I looked at Stella, her face a mask of sincerity, and thought of her past. Her mother had committed suicide after her father's affair, leaving Stella with a deep-seated hatred for infidelity. She was known to refuse business deals with people of questionable character. Besides, if she truly had someone else in her heart, why would she have always been so good to me?
Right then, I decided to give her one more chance.
She hugged me tightly, her tears soaking into my shirt, hot against my skin. They felt like a tranquilizer, calming the storm inside me.
I wrapped my arms around her. "My moon," I whispered, "don't lie to me. Or you'll lose your star."
Star. It was my childhood nickname, the name she used to love calling me.
Her body stiffened for a fraction of a second, but then she pulled back, her gaze unwavering. "My star, don't you worry. Your moon will never betray you."
And just like that, we reconciled.
Stella became even more attentive than before. She started turning down social events to wait for me outside my office. We'd go to the market together, then cook side-by-side in our kitchen. She sent afternoon tea to my colleagues, asking them to take good care of me.
My coworkers praised my "wife-taming skills" and asked for my secrets. But unlike the pride and confidence I once felt, now I could only offer a hollow smile. What happened that night had become a permanent knot in my heart.
A month later, Stella told me she was pregnant.
Overjoyed, I lifted her into my arms and spun her around. In that moment, I was profoundly grateful that I hadn't let one bizarre incident destroy our lives. I immediately started researching birthing centers and devouring parenting books, determined to become the best father I could be.
Until the day I saw Julian with her at a prenatal check-up. He was gently stroking her belly, his smile full of hopeful anticipation.
"Stella, my love," Julian said softly. "Do you really have the heart to let our child call another man 'Daddy'?"
Stella chuckled, pinching his cheek. "Jealous, are we? I already told you, with my current net worth, a divorce would be a financial disaster. Don't worry. When the baby is a little older, I'll tell him you're his real father. Our child will still call you 'Daddy'."
For the first time, I understood that being disgusted with someone could make you physically sick. I stumbled to a nearby trash can and retched violently.
I heard their footsteps approaching and frantically ducked behind the bin. I was the victim, the one who should be storming out and confronting them, but... I was paralyzed by fear. It felt as if stepping out from my hiding place would finalize my status as a pathetic, abandoned fool.
I heard Julian's dreamy voice. "I really hope it's a girl. She'll be gentle and strong, beautiful and poised, just like you. The thought of having two of you in my life makes me bubble with happiness."
Stella giggled. "You're such a sweet talker. By the way, how are the moving arrangements coming along?"
Julian's tone turned serious. "Stella, I don't want to move to another city. I want to stay here, with you and our baby."
"No," Stella said firmly. "It's too risky. You'll be discovered sooner or later." Her voice softened. "Besides, I'll use 'business trips' as an excuse to come see you for half of every month. You won't have to worry about not seeing me."
Julian pulled her into a fierce kiss. "That's wonderful! Stella, I love you so much. Please don't ever leave me."
"Of course not," Stella said earnestly. "I love you too. I'm just sorry you have to make this sacrifice."
"It's no sacrifice," Julian replied. "Being your man is the greatest happiness of my life."
They walked away, laughing and chatting, and got into a car.
I staggered to my feet, my vision blurred by tears. I couldn't believe it. Stella had been lying to me all along. If I hadn't come to the hospital for my own stomach issues, I never would have known. I would have continued to be her fool, dancing on her strings.
I didn't go home until late that night. Stella had called me dozens of times, but I ignored every call. The moment I walked through the door, she rushed to me, her eyes wide with worry.
"Honey, where have you been? Do you have any idea how frantic I was?"
"I was at the hospital," I said.
Her body went rigid. She stared at me, her voice cautious. "When did you go? Which hospital? Why... why didn't you ask me to come with you?"
"City General," I answered. "My stomach was bothering me."
Stella visibly relaxed. They had been at the women's and children's hospital. "What's wrong with your stomach?" she asked with renewed concern.
"Nothing serious. Just some indigestion," I lied.
"Oh, good," she said with a sweet smile.
I looked at that smile, the smile I had loved for thirteen years, and after a long silence, I spoke. "You know, I've been thinking. Now isn't the right time for us to have a baby. Maybe... we shouldn't keep it."
Stella's expression froze. Her face hardened, and she instinctively shielded her stomach with her hands. "Are you even human?" she demanded, her voice sharp with anger. "We've been together for thirteen years! I've wished for this child for so long! How can you just say we should get rid of it? How can you be so cruel? Are you... are you seeing someone else?"
I stared at the face I had adored for over a decade, now twisted with rage, looking at me as if I were her mortal enemy. A bitter laugh escaped me. What was I even hoping for? That she would choose me over this child? This was the child of the man she truly loved.
What did that make me?
The pain was all-consuming. I had given her her last chance, and she had made her choice. It was time for this to end. But not yet. Now was not the time to show my hand.
"Forget I said anything," I said flatly. "I'm just talking nonsense. I'm tired. I'm going to bed."
I started to walk past her, but she grabbed me from behind, her arms tight around my waist. "Honey, what's wrong?" she whispered. "Is it because you still haven't forgiven me?"
"No," I lied again. "I'm just scared I won't be a good father."
She let out a breath of relief, her smile returning. "Of course you will. You've been studying so hard. You're going to be the best father in the world. This baby is so lucky to have you. I'm sure he can't wait to meet you."
Her words were like acid in my ears. I nearly choked on my disgust. "Is that so?" I said through gritted teeth. "I'm looking forward to it, too."
I pushed her hands away and retreated to the bedroom, feigning exhaustion.
Later that night, Stella called me for dinner, but I pretended to be fast asleep. She sat by the bed for a long time before quietly leaving. A few minutes later, I heard her phone ring, and then the sound of the front door closing.
I immediately got up and followed her.
I watched as Stella picked up Julian from the side of the road. They drove to our very first apartmentour marital home.
My hands trembled on the steering wheel. The tightness in my chest, the nausea, it all came rushing back, more intense than ever. I couldn't believe it. She was letting Julian live in our first home.
I had bought that apartment by selling the old house my parents left me, supplemented by money I'd earned from endless all-nighters writing proposals. It was my wedding gift to her, the first home that was truly ours. It wasn't big, and the neighborhood was average, but it was filled with meaning. Even after her business took off and we owned multiple properties, we never sold it.
It wasn't just a house, Stella had said. It was a testament to my pure, unwavering love for her.
And now, she had turned it into a love nest for her and her lover, shamelessly trampling on the memory of the man who had given her everything.
In that moment, my heart finally turned to ash.
I sat in my car all night, a self-inflicted punishment for my own naivety. I needed to see it, to watch her settle into that home with another man, to witness them wrapped up in each other. Only then could I finally break free.
The next morning, a refreshed and glowing Stella came downstairs, Julian at her side. As she turned to leave, he pulled her into a passionate, lingering kiss. The woman I knew was once so shy was now locking lips with another man in broad daylight, in full view of the neighbors, a look of pure bliss on her face. The sight of her wantonness made me sick.
After the kiss, Julian knelt down to tie her shoelaces while she pulled out her phone.
My own phone buzzed. It was a text from her: "Emergency at the office, a big contract has issues. I was up all night. Probably won't be home until this evening. Take care of yourself and eat on time. Love, your wife."
The wave of nausea returned. I fought it down, but a dry heave escaped my lips, followed by a searing pain in my stomach. I doubled over, trembling, a dark premonition washing over me.
Stella drove off. Julian, humming a cheerful tune, went back upstairs.
I waited until the sharpest cramps subsided before getting out of the car.
I knocked on the door.
Julian opened it with a smile, murmuring, "Did you forget something again, my..."
His voice trailed off as he saw me. The smile on his face curdled into a malicious sneer. I had expected fear, or at least guilt. Instead, he looked me up and down with open contempt.
"Well, well, look what we have here," he drawled. "If it isn't my girlfriend's pathetic loser of a husband. The one she finds tasteless but too much trouble to throw away."
"Since you're here, why don't you come in and have a look?"
He stepped aside, gesturing me in with the air of a homeowner welcoming an unwanted guest. It was as if I were the shameful secret, the one who didn't belong.
My chest heaved, but my heart felt dead. Numbly, I walked into what I had once considered the sanctuary of our love, and saw a home built for two. His and hers slippers by the door, matching pajamas on the couch, even toothbrushes that fit together to form a heart.
Julian didn't follow me. He didn't need to. He simply lounged on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and said lazily, "You know, I should thank you. I used to have to work. Now, Stella's so worried you'll find out about me that she's set me up in this 'golden cage,' paying for everything. All I have to do is keep her happy, and the money rolls in. Life is good."
I glared at him, my fists clenched.
He met my gaze with a defiant smirk. "Don't look at me like that. What are you going to do? Run crying to her? Let me tell you something. Even if you did, she wouldn't be scared. The moment you chose to forgive her last time, she knew you could never leave her. Even with her cheating, even with her carrying my child, you'll swallow it all. Because at your age, where else are you going to find a wife who makes as much money as she does? A rich woman like her wouldn't look twice at a washed-up old man like you."
Washed-up old man? I was thirty. How was I a washed-up old man?
He ignored my fury. "I know you look down on me," he continued, "but you and I, we're the same."
The same? I felt like I was choking on blood. I wanted to leap across the room and beat him to a pulp. We met when we were just kids. I worked myself to the bone to fund her dream of starting a business. Yes, she built it from the ground up, but how many bottles of liquor did I have to drink, how many deals did I have to close to get her that seed money?
How dare he say we were the same?
But his confidence was absolute. So absolute that I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Stella herself had fed him these ideas.
Maybe I had been wrong from the very beginning. I forgave Stella because I loved her. But in her eyes, I forgave her because I was dependent on her. This man, this thirteen-year relationship, had long ago been corrupted by her rising social status, turning into a toxic swamp. Foul-smelling and deadly.
I walked past him, my shoes clicking on the floor, and stopped dead in the living room. On the wall hung a massive wedding photograph.
In it, Stella wore a gown encrusted with diamonds, leaning demurely against Julian. Behind them stretched the sparkling Aegean Sea. It screamed luxury and opulence.
I thought my heart was already dead, but seeing that photo sent a fresh spasm of agony through me. It felt as if a hand were squeezing my throat, the lack of air making my head spin.
Our wedding photo used to hang in that spot. Unlike theirs, ours was far from lavish. We were broke, saving every penny for her startup, so we couldn't even afford the cheapest photography package. We just found a random beach, wore simple white clothes, and used a single camera and a veil. That was our wedding photo.
I forced myself to calm down, took out my phone, and with a shaking hand, snapped a picture of their portrait. In that instant, something inside me clicked into place.
Rotten things belong in the trash.
Stella and Julian had been living together for a long time. They were, for all intents and purposes, in a common-law marriage. I would take this evidence to a lawyer and make sure this disgusting pair got nothing.
Seeing me take the picture, Julian finally panicked. He lunged at me, trying to snatch my phone. I dodged, but he kicked me, hard. He was right about one thinghe was stronger than me, especially when my stomach was cramping in agony.
I fell backwards, my head cracking against the corner of the coffee table. My vision exploded with stars, and warm blood streamed down my forehead, blurring my sight. I saw a flicker of raw hatred in Julian's eyes. I could feel it. He wanted me dead.
Suddenly, the smart lock beeped.
I looked up to see the door swinging open. It was Stella, back from her "emergency."

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