The man I had an affair with was the marriage counselor my husband paid a fortune to bring us together-1

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband gifted me an exorbitantly priced marriage counseling session card. The counselor Wendell, patient and gentle, filled the cold void within me. My husband was relieved to see my smile return. Until late one night, I discovered massive bank transfers on his computer—"Monthly retainers. Ensure emotional dependence develops." As the study light snapped on, my husband asked calmly, "Did you sleep with him?" A victorious smile touched his lips. "He's on my payroll. I just needed proof you'd never betray me."

The Amplified Loneliness in the Chimes
At eleven p'clock, the living room held only the steady tick-tock of the wall clock, each beat echoing in my chest. Curled on the sofa, I mindlessly scrolled my phone. Anna's beach photo with her husband filled my feed, their smiles radiant; colleagues crowded a dinner table, buzzing with warmth. My fingers brushed against their own chill. Though the heating hummed, a cold dread seeped from my core. "Their world is full," I whispered inwardly, gazing at the relentless clock. "Only you keep me company, right?" The empty room offered no reply. I burrowed deeper into the sofa corner, as if this could fend off the suffocating silence.

Luxury Bags and the Shut Door
"Click—"The lock released. I straightened instantly on the sofa, straining to hear. David entered, his suit crisp, every hair immaculate as when he left. Bending to change shoes, he placed a large paper bag emblazoned with a luxury logo on the entryway console—a practiced, mechanical gesture. "For you. New season." His voice held weary dismissal.

His glance swept over me, unseeing, as he moved towards the study. My eyes traced the pristine bag, then settled on others nearby, equally lavish beneath a film of dust. Last week's purse, last month's necklace… glittering tombstones marking his absence. "This isn't what I need…" Sour grief choked my throat. "David…" I summoned the courage. His step faltered, but he didn't turn. "Reports to review. Go ahead to bed." The study door clicked shut. A soft sound, yet it dropped a deadbolt over my heart. Once more, only the tireless clock and I remained.