Now That I Don't Care, Why Are You Crying

At our seventh-anniversary party, Scarlett shared an intimate, arm-locked toast with her childhood best friend, Christian.

I watched coldly and clapped. Scarlett sneered and mocked me in front of everyone.

Its just a harmless game between friends. Why are you so uptight? If Christian and I actually had something going on, you wouldn't even have had the chance to marry me.

She stormed off in anger. That night, Christian updated his Snapchat background to a cozy photo of him and Scarlett holding hands.

If this had happened in the past, I would have rushed to Christians house, dragged Scarlett out, and begged her to tell me if she actually loved me.

But this time, I didn't care anymore.

Scarlett didn't come home until the next afternoon.

At the time, I was cleaning up the mess in the backyard.

Yesterday was our seventh wedding anniversary.

She once said, "Everyone talks about the seven-year itch, but I don't believe in that curse."

"For our seventh anniversary, were going to invite all our friends and family over. Lets show them how happy we are."

Because of that single promise, I started preparing three months in advance.

Every day after work, I dragged my exhausted body to baking classes, mixology courses, and learned recipes I had never cooked before.

Yet, the anniversary party I so painstakingly prepared became a stage for her and Christian to flirt.

She even stayed out all night for him.

"What happened to your hand?"

Scarlett noticed the cut on my index finger and asked.

I looked down. "Cut it yesterday while prepping the food."

Scarlett scoffed. "Can't even handle a simple knife. Seriously, is there anything you can do right?"

The old me couldn't stand being imperfect in her eyes.

A single put-down from her would have started a thirty-minute argument, followed by my near-pathological obsession with proving myself to her.

But now, even saying half a word felt like too much effort.

Maybe realizing I was upset, Scarlett leaned down and grabbed my hand. "Let me do it."

I pulled away from her touch. She stubbornly reached out again, trying to grab me.

As we struggled, I tripped over a stool and fell.

She laughed. "So clumsy."

I didn't say anything. Instead, my stomach spasmed violently, and I coughed up a splash of blood. Only then did she realize something was seriously wrong.

Scarlett quickly pulled me up. "What's wrong? We need to go to the hospital!"

My stomach was burning like hell. I had a bad feeling, so I didn't refuse.

When we arrived at the hospital lobby, we immediately ran into Christian.

He looked pale and weak, leaning into Scarletts arms. "Scarlett, my stomach hurts so bad. My chronic ulcer is acting up again."

Scarlett held him tightly and turned to me. "You probably just ate something bad and got a little nauseous. Its no big deal. Just go grab a number and wait in line yourself. Christians condition is serious, and Im worried. I need to take him to the ER."

I nodded. "Okay. Got it."

She froze, staring at me with a bizarre expression.

"You're not angry?"

I found it amusing.

Why should I be angry?

Was it because I didn't throw a massive tantrum like I used to?

But now, I had zero interest.

Whatever she and Christian did had nothing to do with me anymore.

"If there's nothing else, I'll head in."

I turned and walked away. I heard her footsteps heading in the opposite direction. I didn't look back.

Later, I started coughing up more and more blood. A triage nurse noticed me and rushed me into the emergency room.

Years of drinking heavy liquor at corporate networking events to secure contracts had finally caught up to me. I had a ruptured stomach ulcer.

The doctor asked, "Where is your family? You need emergency surgery for a stomach perforation. They need to sign the consent form."

I stared blankly, clutching my throbbing chest. "I don't have any family here."

I signed the form myself and wheeled myself into the operating room.

From the anesthesia to the surgery, and finally to when I woke up, a full three hours passed. Scarlett never called or texted once.

That evening, when Scarlett finally came home, I was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

She glanced at the dark kitchen. "Why didn't you make dinner?"

In our seven years of marriage, as long as she came home, there would always be a piping hot meal waiting for her.

Even if I had to work late or attend a business dinner, I would always order her favorite takeout before coming home.

This was the first time she walked into a cold, dark kitchen.

She expected me to scramble up and cook, but instead, I said flatly, "If you're hungry, make it yourself."

Scarlett frowned and handed me a shopping bag.

"I remembered you were feeling nauseous today. I bought you some heated stomach patches."

I turned my head and met her gaze. "I don't need them. Give them to someone who does."

She didn't know that ten minutes ago, Christian had posted a picture of a heated patch on his stomach in their Snapchat group.

The hand applying the patch belonged to Scarletther left hand, wearing her wedding ring, was fully visible.

The photo had already been deleted, but I knew these patches were just Christian's leftovers.

Just like her. Only when Christian didn't need her would she return to my side.

Scarlett opened one of the patches, stubbornly trying to press it onto my stomach.

I shoved her away with force. She stumbled, her waist hitting the edge of the coffee table. Her face contorted in pain.

"Ethan Crawford! What is wrong with you? Christian had a medical emergency! You just had a little stomachache from bad food. Can't you tell the difference? Do you have to act so childish?"

I looked directly into her angry eyes, completely calm. "Scarlett, I didn't have a stomachache. My stomach ruptured."

Scarlett froze.

After a long pause, she let out a mocking laugh. "Is this your new trick to get my sympathy?"

"Ethan, don't forget we get annual checkups. I've seen your health reports. Aren't you disgusted with yourself for lying about something so serious?"

I had once desperately wanted to build a happy home with Scarlett and provide her with a luxurious life.

That was why I worked myself to the bone, chugging glasses of hard liquor just to close deals.

And that was how I ended up with a ruptured stomach.

In return, all I got was Scarlett giving her happiness to Christian.

Perhaps this was the final warning sign of our dead-end marriage.

I sat up. "Believe whatever you want."

I swept the fallen stomach patches into the trash can, threw on my jacket, and headed for the door.

Scarlett demanded, "Are you throwing a tantrum and running away?"

I said quietly, "A friend just bought a new place. I'm staying there for a few days."

Scarlett chased after me, her brow furrowed tightly.

This was the first time she had ever tried to stop me from leaving.

In the past, she would only watch coldly, knowing that no matter whose fault it was, I would crawl back within two days, begging for her forgiveness.

But this time, I wasn't going to do that.

I stepped past her, got into the elevator, and pressed the door-close button.

Half an hour later, I arrived at my best friend Zach's apartment.

When I told him about my emergency stomach surgery, his jaw dropped. He immediately bought me a bunch of supplements and stayed up for hours talking to me.

During this time, I didn't send a single message to Scarlett. Eventually, she sent me a single punctuation mark: "?"

I ignored it. The next morning, another message popped up.

[The breakfast places near the office suck.]

Zach looked at me as I calmly ate my toast at his dining table. He gasped, "Holy crap, bro. You actually didn't run home to cook for her?"

I shrugged. "Yeah."

In the past, a single word from Scarlett would make me drop everything to prioritize her.

But now, I was truly exhausted.

Zach said sincerely, "Good. You're finally finding your self-respect."

I stared at the ceiling for a long moment before speaking. "Zach, you're a divorce lawyer. If I want a divorce, what's your advice?"

Zach practically jumped out of his seat, instantly listing a mountain of legal terms.

Seeing my blank stare, he waved his hand. "Okay, okay, don't worry about the details. Leave everything to me."

I stayed at his place peacefully. For days, I didn't reply to a single text from Scarlett.

Five days later, my mother-in-law, Helen, posted a photo in the family Snapchat group. She complained that her birthday was coming up, but barely anyone had come to visit her early.

The photo showed a cozy family dinner.

Sitting at the table was Scarlettand right next to her, leaning in close, was Christian.

Less than ten minutes after the photo was posted, Scarlett called me. "Ethan, don't misunderstand. My mom arranged this. Shes family, and I couldn't just ruin her mood, so..."

I cut her off. "Yeah, I know. Anything else?"

"You're... not mad?"

I laughed softly. "Why would I be?"

Scarlett went silent.

After a moment, she said, "This Saturday is Mom's birthday party. I'll pick you up."

She hung up immediately, as if terrified I would refuse.

On Saturday, Scarlett arrived early at Zach's place.

As the car pulled up, Christian poked his head out of the passenger seat. "Hey, Ethan! Hop in. Weve been waiting for you for ages."

His tone and posture screamed that he was the man of the house.

If this were before, I would have dragged him out of the car and hysterically forced Scarlett to choose who got to sit in the front.

But this time, I merely gave a polite nod, opened the back door, and slid in.

Scarletts grip on the steering wheel tightened. She stared at me through the rearview mirror.

I offered her a polite, empty smile, then immediately looked down to text Zach.

When we arrived at the Evans house, I handed over the gift I prepared. "Happy birthday, Helen."

Then, I sat down and ate quietly.

Scarlett and Christian sat on either side of me, leaning across me to laugh and chat.

I stood up. "Let's swap seats. It'll be easier for you two to talk."

The entire table froze.

After all, just a few months ago, I had thrown a massive fit because Christian insisted on sitting next to Scarlett. I had pointed at his face and called him a shameless home-wrecker.

No one expected me to be this calm now.

Christian was thrilled and eagerly slid into my seat. Scarlett, however, stared at me, her eyes darkening.

I excused myself to the restroom.

When I returned, the atmosphere at the table was warm and joyful.

I heard Christian say, "Helen, it's your birthday! Why are you giving me a gift instead?"

Looking closer, I saw Helen holding a diamond-encrusted vintage watch, sliding it onto Christian's wrist.

Scarlett didn't stop her.

The other relatives had mixed expressions.

Everyone knew that watch was the Evans family heirloom, meant to be passed down to the son-in-law.

When I married Scarlett, Helen was furious. She thought I wasn't good enough.

Over the years, since I hadn't made any massive corporate breakthroughs, she disliked me even more. Naturally, she would never give me the watch.

At her birthday last year, she had tried to give it to Christian.

I had refused to let it happen. When Christian reached for it, I snatched it.

During the scuffle, we both fell into the garden pond. Scarlett had saved Christian without hesitation, screaming at me.

"It's just a damn watch! Haven't you gotten enough from this family? Why do you have to fight Christian for everything? I've spoiled you too much! I'll just buy you another one!"

I had caught a severe fever from the cold water, suffering in pain for two days and nights.

Scarlett had mocked me: "Serves you right. This is the price for being an immature brat."

But now, I was done fighting.

I walked over, picked up my coat, and politely said my goodbyes.

I went home.

Scarlett walked through the front door right behind me, her face incredibly tense.

"Ethan Crawford, do you have any boundaries? Staying out for days is one thing, but today all our family members were there. Who were you throwing a tantrum for?"

Seeing my silence, she scoffed.

"What? Still acting up? Fine. Let's just get a divorce then."

This was the third time Scarlett had threatened me with divorce.

The first time was because I refused to drink with her boss, which bruised her ego.

To make up for it, I arranged another dinner with her boss, drank until my stomach bled, and begged for his forgiveness while hooked up to an IV.

The second time was when I accidentally broke a puzzle Christian had gifted her.

She flew into a rage, and I knelt before her, crying and begging, promising there would never be a next time.

But now, looking at her, I simply said, "Okay."

For a solid thirty seconds, the living room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Scarlett looked utterly bewildered. "What did you just say?"

"I said, I agree to the divorce."

The divorce papers Zach drafted were right in my bag.

Just as I was about to pull them out, Scarlett suddenly let out a condescending laugh.

"Playing hard to get? Ethan, your tricks are too pathetic. I'm not falling for it!"

With that, she slammed the door and left.

For the next month, she didn't step foot in the house.

During that time, her best friend called me. "Scarlett got into a minor car accident and is in the hospital. You need to come see her."

I replied, "I'm not a doctor. Seeing me won't cure her. If she needs care, hire a nurse. Or, I'm sure Christian would be more than happy to do it."

I was stepping aside for them. Scarlett should have been thrilled.

But surprisingly, right after I hung up, Scarlett rushed home. The cold aura radiating from her was enough to freeze the room.

She didn't speak to me, but she silently prepared my breakfast and washed my clothes with a sullen face.

On top of that, she brought home a collectible mystery toy box every single day.

That was one of my few hobbies.

In the past, whenever I got one, I would take dozens of photos and show off our "sweet life" on my Instagram.

Now, those unopened boxes were just tossed into a corner, gathering dust.

Scarlett saw them but pretended nothing was wrong.

She seemed to have completely forgotten about the divorce.

Zach advised me not to rush things, so I didn't bring it up again either.

We lived in this tense, silent stalemate.

Seeing my low mood, Zach suggested we go out to clear my head, and I agreed.

We planned to meet at a newly opened country resort.

But the moment I got out of my car and walked through the entrance, someone grabbed my shoulder.

"Ethan? Are you stalking me again?"

The evening glow illuminated the clear delight on Scarletts face.

"I won't hold it against you this time. My friends are over there. Come join us. You know all of them."

Without giving me a choice, she dragged me into their private dining room.

Indeed, they were all familiar facesincluding Christian.

When he saw me, his face stiffened before he put on a shocked expression. "Ethan? What are you doing here?"

Someone replied, "Ethan is Scarletts husband. Of course he can come."

Scarlett chimed in, "Don't offer me any drinks tonight. I have to drive."

The crowd teased her immediately.

"Oh, look whos talking!"

"I guess having your husband around changes things."

"Who knew Scarlett could be so whipped?"

Scarlett didn't deny it. She just looked at me with a soft, smiling gaze.

Christian's face darkened. He looked at me provocatively. "Its good that you're here, Ethan. I actually bought a gift on my way over. Why don't you help me take a look?"

Without waiting for my response, he pulled a velvet box from his pocket and opened it in front of Scarlett.

"Valentine's Day is in a few days. I had this custom-made. Scarlett, do you like it?"

Inside the box was a pair of matching couple rings.

He claimed he wanted my opinion, but his eyes were locked entirely on Scarlett.

His intention couldn't have been more obvious.

Finding this incredibly tedious, I stood up to leave. "I don't know anything about jewelry. I have somewhere else to be. Excuse me."

Scarlett bolted upright, panic washing over her face.

But Christian was faster. He ran to block my path, looking tearful and terrified.

"Ethan, please don't get the wrong idea! I just bought these for fun because they looked pretty. Scarlett and I really aren't what you think!"

As he spoke, he made sure to tilt the rings so the inner engravings faced me.

*Scarlett & Christian.*

And right between their names was a tiny heart.

The custom brand was the exact jewelry company Scarlett worked for.

Meeting Scarletts panicked eyes under the gaze of everyone in the room, I did something completely unexpected.