His Hidden Wife

After a night of passion on our wedding day, my husband Derek White cupped my face and suddenly spoke.

There's something I need to come clean about.

I lazily hummed in response.

I can't marry you. Officially, I'm already someone else's husband.

My whole body froze. My nails dug into my palms.

Who?

"A woman my parents forced me to marry years ago. I never mentioned her to you."

He sat up and looked at me with deep affection.

"Evelyn, you're the most important person to me. But she's just a housewife who can't survive without me. I can't just abandon her."

"Why are you crying?"

His brow furrowed with confusion. "We had the wedding, you're wearing the ring, everyone thinks you're my wife. Is a marriage certificate really that important?"

I took half a step back, my spine pressing against the cold wall.

"We're done."

He froze for a moment, then laughed. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"Then divorce her." I insisted.

Derek fell silent. After a long pause, he finally spoke. "She took care of my parents for seven years. No merit, maybe, but she put in the work. I can't do something so ungrateful."

Seven years.

I calculated the timeline, and a wave of nausea rolled through my stomach.

That year we had just graduated, and his lease was ending. I helped him move.

He took a phone call and walked to the balcony. When he came back, he said it was work I believed him.

Turns out that was his wedding day phone call.

"Don't look at me like that."

He walked over, reaching to put his arm around my shoulder. "Nothing ever happened between us. It's just a formality."

"We've been together for ten years. How can she compare to that?"

I pushed his hand away. The nausea intensified.

He stood there, his tone growing colder. "Evelyn, think rationally. You're going to throw away ten years over a piece of paper? How will you explain that to your parents?"

"What about all our plans we've been saving for? You're just going to walk away from all of that?"

The door closed with a soft sound, like a sigh.

I knelt by the toilet, dry heaving until tears smeared across my face.

At 3 AM, I dragged out my suitcase and yanked clothes from the closet one by one, stuffing them in randomly.

My phone lit up.

His mother had posted on Ins. "Derek's wife made me this roast beef. Delicious."

The picture showed a table full of food, utensils arranged neatly.

In the upper right corner of the photo, half a sleeve was visible.

I recognized that watch.

It was the first gift I ever gave him. I'd saved three months of salary for it.

Today he said he was having dinner with a client.

I liked the post, then unliked it.

His mother probably didn't know that like came from her son's mistress of seven years.

At 3:17 AM, I stood in the elevator watching the floor numbers descend.

The elevator doors opened and cold air rushed in. That's when I realized I was only wearing a thin knit sweater.

My phone rang.

It was my father.

I stared at that name for a long time before finally answering.

My father's voice was soft. "Evelyn, Derek just called. He said you two had a disagreement?"

I didn't respond.

"He's been really good to you all these years. We've all seen it."

"Tell me, what has he done wrong?"

What has he done wrong? Well, nothing really.

That year I had acute appendicitis. He rode his electric scooter to take me to the hospital and fell on the way. His knee was scraped raw, blood running down his pant leg.

When my parents arrived, he'd already treated his own wound and was limping around buying me fruit.

When he was starting his business, things were hardest. He went three days without sleep, and the project still failed.

He sat on the company building steps all night and only came home at dawn.

The first thing he did was take a shower, then stick his face in front of mine. "Smell it. Does it smell good? New shampoo."

I only found out later he was afraid I'd smell the cigarettes and alcohol on him.

He was good to me.

But he was also someone else's husband.

"Evelyn? Are you listening?"

"Yes."

"I need to tell you something."

"Dad, I have something to tell you too."

The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back down.

Tell him what?

That your daughter was deceived for ten years?

That your future son-in-law married someone else seven years ago?

"Your mother is having heart surgery next month."

My father's voice was calm, like he was talking about pork prices dropping at the market. "The doctor said she can't handle any stress."

"Evelyn, I know you have your own issues to deal with, but right now, we need peace at home. You know your mother's temperament..."

I couldn't hear the rest clearly.

I don't know when it started raining.

By the time I came to my senses, my hair was plastered to my face, water dripping from my chin.

"Evelyn!"

An umbrella appeared over me.

Derek stood in the rain, his shirt soaked through.

He grabbed my wrist, gripping it tightly. I could feel his fingers trembling.

"Get in the car first. We'll talk about everything at home."

"That Ins post was deliberate. I was trying to get back at you."

"I never wanted to break up. I really didn't."

He threw my suitcase in the trunk and pulled open the passenger door.

"I'll handle things with Mia. Just give me some time, okay?"

"Your dad told me about your mom's situation. I know some cardiac specialists. I'll contact them tomorrow."

I sat in the passenger seat without saying anything.

There was a faint fragrance in the car.

On his collar was a very faint lipstick mark.

I tilted my head, watching the windshield wipers sweep back and forth.

He kept talking, but I wasn't listening.

The rain was heavy.

The neon lights outside the window blurred in the rain, red, green, yellow, all mixing into a hazy glow.

I stayed at the hospital for two weeks.

Derek never complained once. In fact, he did everything he could.

He found the specialists, finalized the treatment plan, and even switched us to a south-facing private room.

He knew my mother's pre-surgery indicators better than I did.

At night he sat with me on the hallway bench. When he got tired, he'd lean against the wall and doze off.

The nursing station lights were dim yellow. Even in sleep his brow was furrowed, but his hand never let go of mine.

When my mother was feeling better, she'd hold his hand and talk.

"Derek, Evelyn can be stubborn. Please be patient with her."

He smiled and tucked my mother's hand back under the blanket. "I'm the lucky one."

My mother looked at me, her eyes full of relief.

I nodded without saying anything.

But each day, the weight in my chest grew heavier.

That afternoon, he was called away by the company.?

I was carrying a food container toward the hospital room. When I pushed open the door, a strange woman was sitting by my mother's bed.

They'd changed caregivers.

The woman wore light blue scrubs and was peeling an apple with her head down.

Sunlight streamed through the window. She looked up and smiled at my mother.

"My husband? He's not a bad person."

"He's just too softhearted. Women throw themselves at him, and he always says he's afraid of hurting their feelings, can't bring himself to cut them off."

My mother leaned against the headboard and sighed. "That must be hard on you."

She handed the peeled apple to my mother. "You're telling me."

"Sometimes when I feel suffocated, I come out to find something to do, clear my head."

My mother's voice was muffled. "If you ask me, those homewreckers have no shame at all."

I stood in the doorway, the thermal container in my hands growing heavier.

My mother waved me over. "Evelyn's here?"

"Mia is such a good person, just unlucky. You don't know what her husband is like..."

"Mom, I brought you food."

I set the container on the bedside table and turned to the woman in blue scrubs. "Can you step outside? I need to talk to you."

The window at the end of the hallway was open, the smell of disinfectant dispersed somewhat by the breeze.

"Were those words meant for my mother to hear?"

She leaned against the wall. The gentle expression on her face peeled away like paper.

"I was talking about my own family business. How does that concern you?"

"This is between us." I kept my voice low. "It has nothing to do with my mother."

"Between us?" She laughed. "Evelyn, you've been an underground mistress for seven years, and now you want to talk to me about 'us'?"

I clenched my fists.

"You think he'll actually marry you?"

"You know that, right? He plays everyone."

"Your mother's surgery? Who knows if it'll even happen. She's old. Her health isn't great. Something could go wrong on that table..."

The slap happened before I even realized what I was doing.

My palm burned. She covered her face and stumbled backward. Her scream hadn't even left her throat before it was drowned out by a voice from the other end of the hallway.

"Evelyn!"

Derek rushed over and pulled her behind him, grabbing my wrist.

"Have you lost your mind?"

She hid behind him, tears coming on command.

"Derek... I just wanted to help. I saw her mother had no one with her... I don't know why she got so angry. I didn't say anything and she just..."

I stared at Derek.

"Ask her what she said."

He frowned, looking at me, then at her swollen face.

"What could she have said?"

"Evelyn, whatever she said, hitting her was wrong. When did you become like this?"

I laughed, my eyes burning. "What have I become?"

"Derek, it's you who-"

"Enough."

He cut me off, putting his arm around her shoulder and walking toward the elevator. "I'm taking her home. You calm down and think about whether what you did today was right."

That night at 11:40, I got a call from the hospital.

The nurse on duty said the original team of specialists had been urgently reassigned. The specific reason was unclear.

I stood outside the hospital room holding my phone, hearing people talking at the far end of the hallway.

"...that woman, she was the other woman for seven years."

"Really? She looks pretty decent."

"You can't judge a book by its cover. The real wife even came to confront her."

I stood there silently, not moving.

The next morning, my mother somehow heard about all this.

She leaned against the headboard, her face ashen, and asked me. "Evelyn, tell me the truth."

I opened my mouth.

She suddenly clutched her chest, her whole body tilting to one side.

The heart monitor started screaming.

My dad rushed in from outside, frantically pressing the call button.

A nurse ran in, glanced at the situation, then ran back out.

When she returned, she said the original surgical team wasn't there. They could only stabilize her for now and wait for people to arrive.

My dad grabbed the nurse's sleeve. "Where are they?"

"Didn't you say everything was arranged?"

The nurse shook her head and said she didn't know.

I put an oxygen mask on my mother, my hands shaking badly.

Her eyes were half-open, looking at me. Her lips moved but no sound came out.

I pulled out my phone and called Derek.

It rang seven times before disconnecting.

I called again. Still no answer.

My dad paced back and forth, asking over and over what was happening.

I couldn't answer. I just stared at my phone screen, my finger frozen over the dial button.

Then I tried calling from a different number.

Mia answered, her voice lazy.

"Looking for Derek?"

"Let me talk to him."

"He's in the shower. You can tell me whatever it is."

"Give the medical team back."

The other end went quiet for a few seconds before Derek's voice came on.

"Have you thought it through?"

"Give them back." Tears fell involuntarily from my eyes. "Please."

"I can do that."

He said, "Apologize to her. If she agrees, the team will go back."

I hung up and looked at the numbers on the monitor, then at my dad.

He crouched in the corner, his hair mostly white now, shoulders hunched, like a dried-up tree stump.

The elevator at Riverside Apartments was the slowest I'd ever seen.

Mia sat on the sofa. There was fruit on the coffee table. She was peeling an orange.

Derek stood by the floor-to-ceiling window with his back to me.

"You're here?"

Mia popped a piece of orange in her mouth and chewed. "Sit down."

"Actually, I don't really want to make things difficult for you."

"But you know, getting slapped out of nowhere-anyone would need an explanation, right?"

I didn't say anything.

She looked at me and smiled. "So apologize."

"I'm sorry."

She tilted her head. "Hmm?"

"What did you say? I didn't hear clearly."

"I'm sorry."

She sighed, crumpled the tissue into a ball, and tossed it in the trash.

"Words alone won't cut it."

"Kneel down. Slap yourself. Keep going until I say stop."

I looked at her coldly.

She glanced toward the floor-to-ceiling window. "Derek, what do you think?"

Derek didn't turn around.

I knelt down. My knees hit the tile floor with a dull thud.

I raised my hand and slapped my own face.

Once, twice, three times.

My palm burned, my face burned. I couldn't tell if it was pain or numbness.

"Is that enough?"

Mia didn't answer. She stared at something behind me.

My phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket.

"Hello?"

"Evelyn..."

"Your mother is gone. Her heart just stopped. We couldn't wait any longer..."

The phone fell to the floor. The screen shattered. Light seeped through the cracks like a spider's web.

I knelt there, staring at that broken screen.

It was still lit, the call interface showing. The timer kept running. One second, two seconds, three seconds.

Derek walked toward me and crouched down, his hand on my shoulder.

"Evelyn? What happened?"

"Is it your mother..."

His voice paused. "Don't panic. I'll call right now and get the team back."

"I never really planned to withdraw them. I just wanted to teach you a lesson..."

I looked up at him.

This face-I'd been looking at it for ten years.

In front of the dorm building, cooking noodles for me in our rental apartment, asleep in the hospital hallway holding my hand.

But now it looked like a stranger's.

"Derek. My mother is dead."