His Warmth Was Never Mine

For years of our marriage, my husband Johnny built his entire persona around being entirely unbothered by the world.

When I woke up at dawn to make him elaborate breakfasts, he would merely offer a brief nod.

When I camped out overnight on the pavement to buy his favorite limited edition sneakers, he just gave a faint smile and moved on.

Even when I lost our baby, he simply patted my shoulder, his voice laced with mild regret, telling me it was fine, we would have another, and we shouldn't dwell on the past.

He even had the audacity to stand outside my recovery room, checking his watch, informing me he truly had no time to stay and look after me because a business trip awaited him.

I always convinced myself that this was just who he was. I rationalized it, telling myself that people simply have different ways of expressing emotions.

That was until the day he walked through the front door, his eyes alight with a joy I had never seen before. He pulled a piece of stationery from his pocket, grinning from ear to ear.

"Look at this," he said, his voice practically vibrating. "Sophie brought it back from Europe. She said the texture of the parchment over there is entirely different from ours. I need to take a closer look at this."

Sophie was his childhood best friend. She had moved back to the States a month ago and conveniently landed a job at Johnny's research institute.

I stared at him. Then I smiled, reaching into my own bag to hand him a piece of paper. "The texture of this paper is quite unique too. Id appreciate it if you could study this one just as closely."

I had never seen him wear his heart on his sleeve like that.

He held that single sheet of stationery as if it were a rare, priceless artifact.

In his rush to get through the door, he had even stepped on the heels of the exact limited edition sneakers I had painstakingly scrubbed clean that morning.

Before my gasp of dismay could even leave my throat, he was already standing right in front of me.

On the dining table sat his absolute favorite meal, a rich, slow simmered beef curry.

He was completely blind to it. His mind, his eyes, his entire being were consumed by that single piece of paper.

"Look at this," he repeated. "Sophie said this parchment absorbs even the heaviest fountain pen ink without bleeding. The detailing on the edges is gorgeous, isn't it? It looks like an old European castle. So elegant. We went to Europe for our honeymoon, why didn't we think to buy something like this as a souvenir?"

He rambled on and on, the words spilling out of him until the curry on the table grew cold.

I finally couldn't hold it in anymore. "Are you still eating dinner?"

He didn't even turn his head as he walked toward his study. "Oh, I already ate. Sophie mentioned the new bistro downstairs from our building was fantastic, so we went to try it out today. She was right."

My chest tightened, and my voice pitched higher than I intended. "Then why didn't you tell me earlier? When I texted you, you said you were coming home for dinner. I spent hours simmering this curry."

He only paused when his hand was on the study doorknob. He glanced back, his expression returning to its usual flatline. "Sorry, Hazel. I forgot to text you back. It was a spur of the moment decision. I'll definitely eat with you next time."

Next time.

Over the past month, I had been force fed too many "next times".

Next time I'll let you know in advance.

Next time I'll buy your favorite takeout.

Next time I won't forget our plans.

Johnny, life doesn't always offer a next time.

And I had a feeling he was going to learn that lesson very soon.

Johnny was my father's star pupil at the university.

The first time he visited our house for a holiday dinner, I fell for him instantly.

I have always been the kind of woman who fights tooth and nail for what she wants.

So, from the moment I laid eyes on him, I pursued him relentlessy.

They say a woman chasing a man is as easy as piercing a veil of silk, but that rule clearly skipped Johnny.

Most of the time, he gave me nothing but cold indifference.

But he treated everyone else with the same frosty detachment, so I chalked it up to his personality.

I told myself I had just fallen in love with a stone, and I fully believed I possessed enough warmth to melt it.

It took me six years of trying.

Eventually, he nodded. He agreed to be mine.

A year into dating, we tied the knot.

My father was absolutely thrilled. He adored Johnny, and because of that, he pulled countless strings to pave the way for Johnny's academic career.

Sometimes it felt like my father and my husband had more to talk about than Johnny and I did.

Our marriage was respectful, quiet, and mostly harmonious.

But the coldness radiating from him was far deeper than I ever anticipated.

I changed up the breakfast menu every single day, yet not once did a word of praise cross his lips.

When I heard about the release of those sneakers he obsessed over, I flew to Paris, abandoning my own shopping plans to sit on the pavement all night. When I handed him the box, he just offered a polite smile. Not a single word of genuine gratitude.

When I unexpectedly lost our baby, he stood by the hospital bed and told me the timing was wrong anyway. I went through the trauma alone, bleeding and terrified, while he simply called once to ask if the procedure was done.

If this was simply who he was, I thought I could swallow the bitter pill.

Love is supposed to be tolerant. It celebrates the virtues and forgives the flaws.

But then he walked back out of his study, holding that piece of stationery again, a genuine smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "I just ordered a few more sets online. The patterns are different, but they should be just as beautiful. I really need to spend some time looking into this."

Snap.

The invisible string keeping my sanity intact finally broke.

His behavior over the past month had been a glaring, neon sign, reminding me that he wasn't inherently cold. He just never wanted to spend his warmth on me.

I smiled at him. I reached into my bag and pulled out a document I had prepared three days ago. I finally found the courage to hand it over. "The texture of this paper is quite unique too. Id appreciate it if you could study this one just as closely."

It was a divorce agreement.

When Johnny saw the bold letters at the top of the page, a flicker of genuine shock finally cracked his composed facade.

Thank God he didn't look completely dead inside, otherwise I really would have felt like the punchline of a terrible joke.

He furrowed his brows, looking genuinely bewildered. "Why bring up divorce out of nowhere? If there's something I'm doing wrong, you can just tell me. I didn't think we had any real issues."

I looked him dead in the eye. "Sophie came back a month ago, didn't she?"

His frown deepened, confusion shifting into mild annoyance. "Are you throwing a tantrum over Sophie? I told you about that later, didn't I? I was busy sorting out her employment, so I forgot to mention it to you. Is it really that big of a deal?"

I genuinely didn't want to come across as an aggressive, bitter woman.

But he clearly mistook my years of patience for a lack of a spine.

"Did you forget to tell me, or did you actively hide it from me? Because that position she just got was supposed to be mine, wasn't it?"

I took a step closer, my voice dangerously soft. "You know damn well that if it were a fair fight, her resume belongs in the trash compared to mine. On academic merits alone, I would crush her."

"You knew that if you didn't pull the strings in the shadows, she wouldn't stand a chance. You were terrified I would step in and ruin her little dream job."

"Darling, you really outdid yourself. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that someone would plot against me so meticulously. And to think, that someone is my own husband."

A heavy silence fell over the room. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before finally speaking. "You don't need this specific job. Professor Bennett will arrange something else for you."

I nodded slowly, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Right. Who needs a husband when they have a father? So let's get this divorce over with. That way, you can go back to being someone else's lapdog without any distractions."

Mentioning the divorce seemed to finally inject some color into his pale face.

His tone lost its usual detached calmness.

"At the end of the day, you're just jealous that I helped Sophie get a job. Since you insist on dragging this out, let me explain it to you."

"Sophie came back to the States because her mother is sick. Her mom is receiving treatment at the university hospital. Getting her that specific role means she can just walk across the campus to visit her mother after work."

"I even asked your father, and he agreed this role wasn't the best fit for your long term career goals. My mother also begged me to do this favor for Sophie."

Before he could finish his pathetic defense, I cut him off.

"You thought about Sophie. You thought about her mother. You thought about your mother. You even factored in my dad. But did you, for a single second, think about your wife?"

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

I couldn't tell if he was out of excuses or just deemed me unworthy of one.

It didn't matter anymore.

When I walked into the bedroom to pack my suitcases, he stood leaning against the doorframe, watching me in silence.

He suddenly asked, "Why are you being so absolute about this? When a couple hits a rough patch, aren't they supposed to work through it? You bring up the issue, I fix it. Who just skips straight to a death sentence?"

I stopped folding my clothes. I turned to look at him, enunciating every single word. "I gave you chances."

"An entire month's worth of chances. If, even once, your priority had been me, maybe I wouldn't be packing right now."

"But every single time, you told me 'next time'. Right up until ten minutes ago, when you missed what was supposed to be our breakup dinner. I figured you wouldn't show up, so I put the leftovers in the fridge."

Before grabbing my coat, I reached out and patted his cheek twice. It was the most disrespectful thing I had ever done to him, but I no longer had to play the role of the perfect, obedient wife.

"Don't look so miserable, honey. I always preferred you when you looked entirely unbothered by my existence. Keep up the good work. I'm leaving."

I was never his first choice.

Everything and everyone had to step aside for Sophie.

Just like this time. Johnny had everything perfectly wrapped up for her before he even bothered to drop the news on me.

By the time he confessed, she had already been back in the country for two weeks.

But the truth was, I knew the very day she landed.

Because that was the first time Johnny ever broke a promise to me without a logical excuse.

Johnny was a man ruled by his calendar. If he couldn't make a dinner date, he would call hours in advance to reschedule.

When he didn't show up, I called my dad, since they worked in the same building.

My dad sounded surprised over the phone. "Johnny said he was going to the airport to pick up an old friend from his hometown. Why didn't you go with him?"

Who said I didn't?

I tracked his car's GPS straight to the upscale steakhouse we always went to for our anniversaries.

Standing outside the floor to ceiling windows, I saw the two of them.

My stoic, unsmiling husband was sitting there, his eyes entirely soft, meticulously cutting a piece of steak for another woman.

We had eaten at that exact table dozens of times. Not once had he ever unfolded my napkin or offered to cut my food.

I remembered one specific night vividly. The kitchen had overcooked my steak, and the knife they gave me was completely blunt.

Feeling romantic, I had leaned over and playfully asked him to help me cut it, hoping for a cinematic, sweet moment.

He didn't say a word. He just slid his sharper knife across the table toward me.

I had laughed it off, assuming he was just blind to romance.

But he wasn't blind. He knew exactly how to be romantic.

From that day until now, for a full month.

I turned into a stalker, haunting the edges of their lives, desperately trying to force my presence onto Johnny.

I was looking for proof that I was loved. Instead, all I found was the humiliating, undeniable evidence that I wasn't.

After serving the papers, I moved out of our house immediately.

Then Johnny started acting completely out of character.

He began texting me morning and night. Whenever he had a free moment, he would send me updates about his day at the lab.

He even actively started networking to find me a new job.

When I shut him down for the fifth time, his voice on the phone dripped with exhaustion.

"Hazel, I am really trying to fix this. Even a man on death row gets a chance to appeal, doesn't he?"

I replied without missing a beat. "Too bad you're not on death row. The comparison doesn't work."

I thought a response that icy would finally force him to back off.

Clearly, I underestimated his persistence.

This time, he booked a dinner with a senior faculty member who had deep ties to my father.

My usual excuses for declining wouldn't work without offending the older professor.

So, I had to show up.

"You finally decided to give me a chance."

Johnny smiled at me across the private dining room.

I just looked at him.

He was wearing his usual crisp suit, his hair perfectly styled. But beneath the polish, there was a deep, bone weary exhaustion. The dark circles under his eyes told me his life hadn't been easy lately.

"Let's talk after dinner," he said softly. "Cards on the table. At least let me understand why I'm dying."

But the appetizers had barely arrived when his phone started buzzing.

It rang so relentlessly that even the senior professor cleared his throat.

"Johnny, my boy, it sounds like an emergency. You better take that. Don't let me keep you from important business."

Johnny looked mortified. He glanced at me, then firmly shook his head.

"It's nothing important, Professor. Please, let's continue."

To prove his point, he reached into his pocket and powered the phone off completely.

I raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.

Because in the second before he turned the screen away, I had seen the caller ID.

It was Sophie.

I knew better than anyone just how deep his bias for her ran.

Hanging up on her was probably a first in his entire lifetime.

Just as I was starting to wonder if I had misjudged him, if he was actually capable of change.

The dining room doors swung open. Sophie stood there, her eyes red, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. She didn't say a word.

She just looked at him, turned on her heel, and ran.

Johnny's carefully constructed calm shattered instantly.

He didn't even pause to offer an apology to the senior professor. He bolted out of the chair and chased after her, leaving me and the old man staring at each other in stunned silence.

"What... what on earth was that?" the professor stammered, clearly bewildered by the soap opera playing out in front of him.

I shook my head. I should have known better. Johnny was exactly the man he had always been.

Sophie was his absolute baseline, his one non negotiable.

Thank God I hadn't fallen for his little redemption act. I would never be foolish enough to believe him again.

I picked up my glass of red wine and drained it in one smooth motion, swallowing down the last bitter traces of my past with Johnny.

Because starting tomorrow, my life belonged entirely to me.