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墨書 Inktalez
That night, my husband stumbled through the door, reeking of strong alcohol. I hurried to meet him, trying to steady his swaying body.
"Are you okay?" I asked with concern, but all I got in response was his vague mumbling.
After much effort, I managed to help him into the guest room and began to change his clothes. As I took off his suit jacket, I noticed a strand of hair on his white shirt, and my heart sank.
Whose... whose is this?
I trembled as I clutched the chestnut brown curl in my hand, staring in disbelief at my drunken husband. I could hear him mumbling:
"Mian... Mian..."
A wave of dizziness washed over me. Mian? Who is that?
Just then, his phone buzzed. Unable to resist, I picked it up and unlocked it with his fingerprint. The message on the screen cut through me like a knife:
"Remember to rest early after you get home! Miss you, muah~."
The sender was "Xiao Mianhua," a name I had never heard before.
Shaking, I opened her social media profile, and the latest post read:
"January 16th, Harbin, watching the snow."
That day was when my husband had gone on a business trip to Harbin.
Dazed, I returned to our bedroom and lay on the bed, my mind in turmoil.
"Mian..." That name felt like a thorn, piercing me painfully; I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
I told myself it might just be a misunderstanding, but all the clues pointed toward a truth I couldn't bear to face.
"No, it can't be..."
I whispered to myself, but my voice was filled with uncertainty.
I don't know how long it had been when I finally fell into a deep sleep, exhausted and confused, but the doubts in my heart felt like a heavy stone, suffocating me.
The next day, I got up early from bed and stood in front of the mirror. The woman staring back at me, with red, swollen eyes and a pale face, was almost unrecognizable.
"I need to talk to him," I told myself, though my voice lacked conviction.
Walking into the dining room, he was sitting there eating breakfast as usual, as if nothing had happened.
Suddenly, my phone beeped with a text message. He glanced at me and then quickly picked up his phone.
"I'm full; I'm heading to work now," he said as he stood up, walked over, and gently kissed my cheek before grabbing his coat and turning to leave.
The door slammed shut with a loud bang, and I felt all my strength drain away as I slumped into the chair.
In the following days, he seemed to return to normal and no longer stayed out late.
On New Year's Eve, we snuggled on the sofa watching the New Year's gala, a long-lost warmth flowing between us. Just as we were about to take things further, his phone rang sharply. He let go of me and walked out to the balcony to answer it.
"A colleague from work has invited me out; you should go to bed early and don’t wait for me," he said hurriedly before grabbing his coat and leaving.
The door slammed shut again, leaving me stunned as a storm of emotions surged within me.
Instinctively, I threw on my coat and followed him outside.
On the roadside, I hailed a taxi. "Driver, follow that car in front."
I trailed behind my husband's car until we arrived near his company at the IKEA Hotel. The driver parked the car, and through the window, I saw my husband get out and walk briskly inside.
I placed my hand on the car door, ready to push it open but hesitated.
"Are you alright?" The driver's voice broke through my thoughts as he lit a cigarette, not rushing me to get out of the car.
Panic surged within me like a tidal wave. Should I get out? What if I went inside and saw something I didn't want to see?
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