Who Wants the Orphan Wife"

For the first three years of our marriage, my husband suddenly developed a profound interest in playing mahjong with his boss's daughter.

Whenever I confronted him about it, his defense was always the exact same script. You're an orphan. You don't have a family to back me up, no connections, nothing. You can't help me with my career at all.

He would follow it up with, "I'm playing cards to keep my boss happy. Isn't that for the good of our family?"

Then, after delivering those crushing blows, he would wrap his arms around me and sigh, playing the victim. "If you ever left me, you would truly be all alone in this world. Because honestly... who else would ever want you?"

Eventually, I stopped arguing.

I started pulling all-nighters, staying out late, and refusing to come home, telling him I was out playing mahjong too.

At first, he thought I was just throwing a childish tantrum, waiting for me to break and come crawling back.

Until one morning, we ran into each other at the front doorboth of us returning from a night out.

Panic finally set in. He begged me to stop leaving, promising he would stay home and keep me company every single night.

Instead, I looked him in the eye and demanded a divorce.

Because at the mahjong table, I hadn't been wasting my time. I had found my biological father. He was a billionaire. And for the first time in my life, I finally had a real family.

1.

It was past International Women's Day.

At 1:00 AM, I was sitting alone in the dark living room, staring blankly at the framed wedding photo on the wall.

Gary still wasn't home.

Every year on this day, he used to buy me a bouquet and take me out to a nice dinner.

This year? He wasn't answering my texts, and my calls went straight to voicemail.

I scrolled mindlessly through Instagram. My thumb suddenly stopped.

Garyia Schwimmer, the daughter of Gary's department director, had just posted a new story:

"Luck is on my side tonight! Thanks for feeding me the winning tiles, Gary~"

The photo was a selfie taken at a luxury mahjong table. Gary's arm was draped casually over the back of her chair. Garyia was smiling so hard her eyes were practically squeezed shut.

Someone had commented, "The chemistry between you two is insane."

Garyia replied with a blushing emoji.

I locked my phone, tossed it face down onto the couch, and didn't look at it again.

At 6:00 AM, I heard the deadbolt click.

Gary walked in reeking of cheap cigarettes and stale whiskey. The top three buttons of his dress shirt were undone, and his hair was a mess.

I stood up from the couch. "You stayed up all night playing cards with her again?"

He kicked off his shoes, not even bothering to look up at me. "Yeah."

"You're spending seven nights a week playing games with another woman. Do you think that's normal?"

He finally lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with absolute irritation.

"Whether it's normal or not is none of your business. Do you know who her father is? My next promotion completely depends on him liking me!"

My throat tightened. I couldn't speak.

Seeing my reaction, he walked over. His tone suddenly shifted, softening as he draped a heavy arm over my shoulders.

"Aria, I know you feel neglected. But look at it logically. You grew up in an orphanage. You don't have a family, you don't have a dime to your name. You're lucky I even married you."

"If you left me, who else would ever want you?"

He had been repeating that exact phrase for a solid year.

Every single argument we ever had ended with those exact words.

It was like a dull, rusted knife sawing back and forth over the exact same wound.

I didn't say a word.

Assuming I had surrendered like always, Gary kissed my forehead.

"I'm taking a shower and going to bed. I'm exhausted."

I stood frozen in the middle of the living room, listening to the water running in the master bath. My mind drifted back to five years ago.

We were still in college.

He pursued me relentlessly.

When I told him I grew up in the foster system and aged out of an orphanage, his eyes welled up with tears. He promised me he would give me a real home.

During our senior year, he got down on one knee in front of my dorm building and proposed. He told me he had secured a great corporate job.

He promised he would bring in ten grand a month, and that I'd get six thousand of it as my personal allowance. He told me I would never have to work a day in my life. I could just stay home and be happy.

From the day I was old enough to work, I had been constantly hustling. Waiting tables, handing out flyers, working multiple shifts just to survive.

He was the first person in my entire life who looked at me and said, "You don't have to work anymore. I'll take care of you."

So, I said yes.

For the first two years of our marriage, he really was wonderful.

Flowers on every holiday, dates every weekend.

But during our third year, Garyia Schwimmer returned from a study abroad program.

During a corporate dinner, Garyia tagged along. She wanted to play mahjong, and they needed a fourth player. Gary happily volunteered.

The very next day, his salarywhich had been stagnant for two yearswas miraculously increased.

From that day forward, whenever Garyia called for a game, Gary was at her beck and call.

It started with Sunday afternoons. Then weeknights. Then all-nighters.

I spent more and more nights sleeping alone in an empty house.

At first, I fought him. I screamed and cried. But he always weaponized the same twisted logic to shut me down:

"You can't help my career. Is it a crime that I'm trying to climb the ladder myself?"

"If you leave me, how are you going to survive?"

"Who else is going to want you?"

I walked into the guest bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.

The reflection in the mirror made my stomach drop.

My hair was greasy and flat. My skin was a sickly, sallow yellow. My eyes were puffy, with dark, heavy bags dragging down my face.

Three years ago, I was known as one of the prettiest girls in my graduating class. Gary wasn't the only guy begging to date me.

And now?

I stared blankly at the hollowed-out woman in the glass.

My eyes suddenly began to burn.

Is this what I had let myself become in just three years?

I was Aria Sterling. I survived the orphanage, paid my own way through college, and made it to twenty-four without relying on a single soul.

How did getting married turn me into such a pathetic, helpless loser?

2.

The next day, Garyia set up another game. Shockingly, Gary insisted on bringing me along.

"I'm taking you so you can see that our relationship is completely professional. I want you to stop making up paranoid fantasies in your head."

He said the words confidently, but his eyes briefly darted away from mine.

I didn't argue.

I actually put effort into my appearance that day. I wore a nice dress, tied my hair up neatly, and put on some light makeup.

He drove us to an incredibly exclusive, private mahjong parlor. The decor was dripping in luxury. The second we walked in, I heard the crisp clatter of the tiles.

Garyia was sitting at the head of the table. When she saw me, her eyes curved into a condescending crescent moon. "Oh wow, the wife actually showed up?"

Gary chuckled nervously. "I brought her out to see the real world."

Garyia casually gestured to an empty chair. "Does the missus know how to play?"

I shook my head.

She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Makes sense. Growing up in an orphanage, it's not exactly a high-society hobby, right?"

The other two players at the table suddenly found their phones incredibly interesting, refusing to make eye contact.

Gary actually laughed along with her. "She had a rough childhood. She doesn't understand this kind of culture."

My fingernails dug so hard into my palms they almost drew blood. I kept my mouth shut.

The game started. I sat next to Gary, watching in silence.

Halfway through the night, Garyia hit a losing streak. Her face grew visibly darker with every hand.

She looked up, glaring directly at me. "Ugh. Having some people sitting right across from me is completely ruining my luck."

Gary immediately panicked. "Aria, go sit somewhere else."

He pointed to a plush sofa in the far corner of the room, leaning in to whisper urgently. "Aria, please. Just go sit over there and relax for a bit."

I gave him a long, dead look. Then I stood up and walked over to the corner couch.

They resumed their game, laughing and joking as if I wasn't even there.

Every time Garyia lost a hand, she would playfully lean her weight against Gary's shoulder. He never once pulled away.

I sat in the dark corner, watching them.

They finally called it quits at 1:00 AM.

Garyia stood up, naturally hooking her arm through Gary's.

"Gary, drive me home? The streetlights in my neighborhood are out, and it's too dark."

Gary glanced back at me. "Order an Uber and go home."

Without another word, the two of them walked out the door together.

I stood alone on the curb outside the club, waiting for my ride. The night breeze cut right through me, and I pulled my jacket tighter.

My phone buzzed.

Garyia had posted a new story: "Thanks to my exclusive chauffeur~"

The photo was a selfie taken in the passenger seat of Gary's car. She was making a cute pouty face at the camera, and Gary's profile was clearly visible in the rearview mirror.

I didn't sleep at all that night.

I opened the photo gallery on my phone and stared at our wedding photos for a very long time.

Then, I opened the camera app and took a selfie right there in the dark.

I put the two images side by side.

One was me three years ago, glowing in a white dress, my eyes full of life and hope.

The other was me now. Wearing a cheap, pilled sweater, looking like a dead, dried-up flower that had all the moisture sucked out of it.

I asked myself... is this really the comfortable life I had signed up for?

Sitting alone every night, waiting for him to come home so we could scream at each other.

After the fight, he would sleep like a baby while I laid awake staring at the ceiling.

The next day, he went to work, and I sat alone in an empty house.

A vicious, unending cycle that had lasted an entire year.

My body, my emotions, my absolute corenone of it was being nurtured. I was rotting away.

Once the realization fully hit me, I picked up my phone and bought a premium gym membership.

I booked a personal trainer, committing to five days a week.

I scheduled a manicure, eyelash extensions, and finally chopped off the long, dead hair I had been growing out for three years, styling it into a chic, bouncy bob.

The woman in the mirror was slowly starting to look human again.

Then, I opened a local social forum and posted a thread:

"Looking for girlfriends to teach me how to play mahjong. Located in the city center. I have plenty of time and money. Once I learn the rules, I'll gladly pay to play~"

I hit post and tossed my phone onto the bed.

For the first time in years, I genuinely felt like tomorrow might actually be interesting.

3.

I got a direct message the very next morning.

"Hey girl! I'm a regular at this super high-end private parlor by the river. The vibe is amazing. I can teach you the ropes if you're down?"

"I'm down," I replied.

We agreed on a time and place. I arrived early.

It was a gorgeous, exclusive club right on the waterfront, the parking lot packed with luxury imported cars.

I walked up to the front desk and paid for a private room. Just as I got the key, my phone buzzed. The girl texted me saying something came up and she had to cancel.

I felt incredibly awkward as I walked back to the receptionist to ask for a refund.

"No problem at all, miss. We hope to see you next time," the receptionist smiled professionally.

I turned around, ready to walk out the front doors.

"We're short one player. Do you know how to play?"

I stopped and looked over my shoulder.

It was a middle-aged man, probably in his early fifties. He was dressed in casual designer clothes, but he carried an aura of quiet, immense authority. He clearly wasn't an average guy off the street.

I shook my head. "No, I don't. I came here today to find someone to teach me, but I just got stood up."

He offered a warm, genuine smile. "Perfect timing. I'll teach you."

I immediately took a half-step back, my guard shooting up.

A strange, wealthy older man randomly offering to teach a young woman how to gamble in a private room? Red flags everywhere.

He immediately sensed my hesitation and gestured toward the open door of a nearby VIP suite.

"My son and daughter-in-law are in there waiting for me. We won't be alone. You don't have to worry."

I still didn't move.

He fell silent for two seconds, his expression softening into something incredibly vulnerable.

"To be completely honest with you... you look exactly like my daughter."

I frowned.

He kept speaking, his voice quiet.

"My daughter passed away the day she was born. When I saw you standing at the desk just now, I actually froze. I apologize if I'm being forward. If you aren't comfortable, just pretend I never asked."

I looked at him closely. There wasn't a single trace of malice or creepiness in his face. He just looked... sad.

I thought about it for a second. It was broad daylight, the club was packed with staff, and there were security cameras everywhere. Why not?

I followed him into the VIP suite. There were indeed two other people waiting.

A young man, roughly my age, with sharp features that strongly resembled the older gentleman.

Sitting next to him was a stunningly elegant young woman, clearly the daughter-in-law.

The second I walked through the door, the young woman gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Her eyes went wide as saucers as she stared at me.

The young man froze entirely, staring at my face in complete, stunned silence.

The older man cleared his throat, taking control of the room.

"Don't be nervous, this is my family. This is my son, Julian. And his wife, Clara."

He turned to me with a kind smile. "My name is Wayne Schwimmer. What should we call you, young lady?"

I offered a polite nod. "Aria Sterling."

Clara was still staring at me. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes suddenly welled up with tears, but she quickly looked down at her lap to hide it.

Julian also broke eye contact, staying entirely silent.

Wayne acted as if he hadn't noticed their bizarre reactions, warmly gesturing to the empty chair.

"Come, sit. We needed a fourth anyway."

As I sat down, Clara kept glancing at me, her eyes still rimmed red.

I offered an awkward, apologetic smile. "Is something wrong?"

She quickly shook her head. "No, nothing! It's just... you look exactly like..."

"Don't overwhelm the poor girl," Wayne interrupted smoothly. "Come on, let's show her the ropes."

They were incredibly patient. They actually spent the next few hours teaching me the game.

How to draw, how to call, how to meld tiles, and how to calculate the scoring.

Clara had the patience of a saint. Even when I kept forgetting the basic rules, she explained them over and over again without a hint of frustration.

Julian didn't say much, but every time I was about to discard the wrong tile, he would gently tap the table and explain the strategy behind keeping it.

Wayne barely looked at his own tiles. He spent the entire game watching my face, as if he were searching for something specific.

As we played, we kept up casual conversation.

They asked where I was from. I told them I grew up here in the city.

They asked what I did for a living. I told them I was a stay-at-home wife.

They asked my age. I said I was twenty-six.

When they asked about my parents, I told them I was an orphan.

Wayne's hand stopped mid-air over the table.

Clara shot him a loaded look, but didn't say a word.

I tried to flip the script. "What about you guys?"

"Small business owners," Wayne smiled warmly.

"Construction and engineering," Julian added smoothly.

We played until 10:00 PM. I finally checked the time and said I needed to head home.

"Will you come back and play with us again?" Wayne asked, his voice entirely sincere.

I thought about it for a second. "I will."

As I was leaving, Clara walked me to the lobby. Right before we parted ways, she suddenly grabbed my hand.

I froze, caught off guard.

Her eyes were red again. "Aria... please. Please come back and see us."

I was a little bewildered, but I nodded and gave her a reassuring smile.

I walked out of the lobby and headed toward the elevators.

As I passed by a VIP suite with its door cracked open, I subconsciously glanced inside.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Gary was sitting at the table. Garyia was leaning heavily against his shoulder, giggling as she fed him a slice of fruit off a silver platter.

I didn't stop walking. I didn't turn back.

A month ago, seeing that would have broken me. I would have run to the bathroom and cried until I threw up.

Tonight? I didn't feel a damn thing.

4.

Gary finally noticed the shift in my behavior.

I started leaving the house before he woke up and coming back long after he was asleep. Whenever he was home, I was out.

He asked where I was going. I told him I was out playing mahjong.

He asked who I was playing with. I told him I had new friends. His face instantly darkened.

The breaking point hit one morning when we literally ran into each other at the front door. We had both been out all night.

He blocked the entryway, his face twisted with pure, irrational anger.

"Starting today, you are not allowed to leave this house."

I stared blankly at him. "Excuse me? On what authority?"

He pulled out his phone and shoved his banking app in my face.

"I've cut off your monthly allowance. I'm not transferring another dime. You're going to sit in this house and rot. You aren't going anywhere."

I blinked, genuinely stunned.

It was true that he gave me six grand a month. I had managed to put a little bit away in savings over the years, but I absolutely relied on that money to survive.

He let out a cold, venomous laugh. "Aria, do you think I'm an idiot? You've been acting completely insane lately. Are you sleeping with someone else?"

I looked at the man I married, and suddenly, I found the entire situation absolutely hilarious.

"Gary, when you started staying out all night playing cards, I asked you that exact same question. And you told me I was a paranoid, hysterical bitch."

He choked on his words, his face flushing red.

I stepped closer, my voice completely dead. "I go out to play mahjong. I'm not sleeping around. Can you look me in the eye and say the same?"

"My situation is entirely different!" he spat defensively. "I'm doing it for my career! I'm networking!"

I didn't waste another breath on him.

I stayed home that night, but I didn't sleep a wink.

My mind was finally, crystal clear.

This man was entirely worthless.

When he proposed, he promised he would take care of me. He promised he would give me a safe, loving home. I bought every single lie.

And now? He cuts off my money to starve me out, treating me like a prisoner in my own home, demanding absolute obedience.

Who did he think he was?

Was I a stray dog he had adopted? Was I a pet he could lock in a cage when he got bored of me?

I needed a divorce.

The next morning, my phone buzzed.

It was a text from Clara:

"Hey Aria, are you free today? My father-in-law said he wants to teach you some advanced strategies."

I stared at the message, hesitating for a long moment.

Fine. I'll go.

One last time.

Once I filed the divorce papers, I was going to have to work three jobs just to keep a roof over my head. I wouldn't have the luxury of playing mahjong ever again.

I arrived at the club and walked up to our usual VIP suite.

I pushed the heavy mahogany door open, and instantly froze in my tracks.