“It’s just for the weekend”

It’s every weekend. Many times those weekends extend through the week. Much of the time you’re unable to get in contact with her at all. The kicker is you already called her work, and they let you know she had already quit her job, long, long ago.

Your wife comes home from these trips draped in the most luxurious outfits: dresses with labels of small French brands you can’t pronounce, and a new pair of Jimmy Choo’s every time. Something about supporting Malaysian designers, but who is supporting your wife? The credit card you share remains untouched every time she goes on these trips, but her closet is bursting with couture even Jamie Chua could never get her hands on.

You remember exactly when your wife stopped sharing location with you. You made the huge mistake of complimenting her shiny new Bulgari Serpenti bracelet (an obvious gift from HIM) over dinner and drinks—a sad attempt to reconnect with a woman you could tell had already moved on. She finished her wine and promptly got up and left you at the restaurant, a black car already waiting outside to whisk her away to wherever it is she goes every weekend. Within seconds your phone number was blocked. You didn’t see her again for weeks.

Things are more “humane” now, if you don’t see yourself becoming a glorified, unacknowledged maid for her completely dehumanizing. You keep the household running, keeping everything external looking nothing less than perfect. Why give her a reason to leave you forever? She’s the best you’ll ever do and you don’t care to have a life without her, even if it means coming to terms with the fact that whoever she’s spending her weekends with has her completely enamored and spoiled in ways you could never even imagine. Hello? It’s what she deserves.

You wouldn’t even mind if she came home one day smelling like a mixture of her expensive perfume and his cum laced around her neck. You’d take her archival old Celine coat off just to get an extra whiff of the man you could never be. You’d ask her how her day was as you gently remove her perfect feet from her Jimmy Choo’s, and nod along even though you know despite what she says, she spent her entire “business trip” getting railed by somebody else.

She’s your wife and you can’t even get a text back.