No More Love No More Hurt by Ciciya

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In the fourth year of our marriage, Henry Johnson cheated on me, Wendy, his wife. 

He held Melissa Sullivan in his arms and told his friends, “Even if Wendy were standing naked in front of me right now, I would feel nothing.” 

My grandma wanted to see him for the last time, but he didn’t come. He even gave the only thing my grandma left to Melissa. 

He sneered with contempt. “Wendy, you’re old now. Who else would want you except me?” 

Later, I left with determination. 

But his eyes turned red, and he knelt in front of my door. 

“Wendy, are you really giving up on me?” 

When I received the video, I was making chicken soup for Henry. 

He had gone out for a networking event today, so he must have felt uncomfortable in his stomach when he returned. 

It was almost dawn, and Henry had not yet arrived home when a strange number sent me a video. I had a bad feeling and clicked on it. 

The video was a bit shaky, indicating it wasn’t recorded under normal circumstances. 

Despite this, I could clearly see Henry’s face. He looked at the camera with a doting expression. The video then panned down to show Henry’s hands stroking a pair of sexy legs, occasionally pinching them. The owner of the legs said coquettishly, “Henry, you are so bad.” 

I heard Henry chuckle, “You like it too, don’t you?” 

In the background, someone was whistling and teasing that even Mr. Johnson couldn’t resist the temptation of beautiful women. 

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke in. It was Henry’s best friend, Howard Stewart. “Henry, don’t make too much trouble. What if Wendy finds out?” 

Henry’s eyes turned mocking. “Even if Wendy were standing naked in front of me right now, I would feel nothing.” 

I was a little breathless, and the laughter in the video felt like slaps to my face. 

The girl in Henry’s arms said with a sweet smile, “Henry, you hurt me last night.” “Where?” 

“Here, feel it…” 

My ears rang briefly, and I couldn’t catch the rest of the words in the video. 

No wonder he claimed he was too tired when I invited him earlier. 

It turned out, even if I were standing naked in front of him now, he wouldn’t be turned on. 

How ironic, he had no feelings for me, yet he left that woman unable to get out of bed. 

I suddenly remembered that Henry had brought me a bouquet of tulips after work yesterday. He 

seemed to be in a very good mood, and it rubbed off on me too. Curious, I asked him what made him so happy. What did he say? 

“My wife made me the most delicious chicken alfredo. I’m so happy.” I chuckled at his flattering comment, but it never occurred to me why such a simple thing could bring him so much joy. During dinner, he received a phone call, turned to me anxiously, and said something had happened at the company. He had to go back to deal with it and assured me he would be back soon. 

So, I waited from dinner until the early morning, eventually falling asleep on the sofa. When I woke up, Henry’s sleeping face was beside me. I asked him when he had returned. He kissed me and advised me not to wait for him next time. 

He had spent the entire night in someone else’s bed, only to return to hug me and say good morning. At the risk of being caught by me, he had slept with two women in one night. 

I felt incredibly nauseous and began to retch, clutching the trash can beside me. 

I couldn’t tell when the video ended. Then, another message flashed on my screen: [As a woman, you can’t hold a man’s heart. You are a failure.] 

I glanced at it, wiping away the tears that had sprung from my retching. I tossed the untouched chicken soup into the trash. 

Henry probably wouldn’t be back tonight. 

Clutching my phone tightly, it felt like I was holding onto my very 

Divorce wasn’t an option, at least not yet.