Seven Years After Marriage, I Discovered My Husband's Love Letter and Will for His First Love

"In the seventh year of our marriage, I discovered two letters my husband had written to his first love. One was a love letter, the other a will. "In our next life, you'll be my wife," he wrote. "I'm leaving you my estate. Even after I'm gone, I won't let anyone mistreat you." I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh as I bought a plane ticket. That morning, I ironed my husband's shirt one last time and saw him off at the door. In the entryway, he hesitated, waiting for my usual goodbye kiss that never came. "Anna, don't be upset. The lipstick stain from last night was just a misunderstanding," Christopher said, his voice tinged with frustration. "I was just giving a friend a ride home. Don't overthink it." I didn't cry or make a scene. "Oh, I don't mind," I replied coolly. Because I had already found someone new and was preparing for my second marriage. But he panicked. 1 After sending Christopher Evans off, he lingered at the door, waiting for something. My tone was indifferent. "You've got your briefcase and watch. What else do you need?" Christopher's jaw tightened, his brows furrowed as he maintained a dignified silence. Seven years of marriage, and before that, I had pursued him for three years. A decade of love, and I knew every little movement and gesture of Christopher's body. He was waiting for a goodbye kiss. Because I hadn't leaned in to kiss him and say "I love you" as usual, he felt something was off. "Anna Lee, are you still angry? The lipstick stain was a misunderstanding." "That girl wasn't feeling well, so I gave her a ride home. It was an accident." "I've been explaining all night, the evidence is clear. Can't you be a bit more rational?" His tone was calm, but every word carried a hint of reproach. Christopher was a lawyer, always logical in his speech, never leaving any loopholes. Even our prenuptial agreement was written meticulously. It didn't shortchange me, nor did it show favoritism. Last night, because of that cologne-scented suit jacket, I had cried and yelled. It was the same jacket I had carefully ironed that morning, without leaving a single crease. To learn that technique, my fingers were covered in burn marks, wrinkled and unsightly. But that evening, his jacket carried someone else's perfume and kiss. The color and scent of the lipstick were familiar to me - his first love's favorite. When we first started dating, Christopher would buy perfumes and cosmetics for me. I was touched, thinking this would be for life. Although the color and scent were subtle, I didn't like them at all. But it was his gesture of affection, wasn't it? I suggested changing to a different kind, but year after year, Christopher kept sending the same ones, regardless of whether I liked them or not. Later, I found out that he was actually buying them for his first love. Giving them to her was genuine; giving them to me was just an afterthought. "I believe you, okay?" I said, glancin...