It was 11 o’clock at night. As soon as I got out of the taxi, the smell of alcohol permeated my every breath. I’ve had a very successful meeting with clients so I feel high. But beneath that pleasure, there was a dark lust that I had long hidden behind a decent face—Huệ, the new housekeeper in his 20s, from the province, whom my husband had taken over only two months earlier.

Huệ, fresh and young, is like a flower that is new to tomorrow. Even though she wore a simple daster every day, it was impossible to hide the curves that had also weakened my knees several times. Lan was different—my wife. After two births, her body grew, her complexion darkened, and she spent the whole day focused on the house and the children. The boredom of married life, plus the “temptation” within the house itself, has pushed me to the brink of error many times.

When I entered the house, it was dark, and only the light in the kitchen was on. I was about to go straight to the room but was stuck. Under the dim light from the minibar, there is a figure upside down, translating water. That wasn’t the old, loose lady. She wore a silky red nightgown—the sensual dress I had bought for Lan for our anniversary, but she hadn’t worn it once because it was “too exposed.”

And the legs…

The very short, thin fabric showed long, white legs, straight up under the dim light. Her long, black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The stance, the youth—it wasn’t Lan.

“Huệ…” Suddenly, my mind popped into my head.

I immediately thought of a scenario: perhaps he had been paying attention to me for a long time—our rich, well-dressed. He may have taken advantage of his mistress’s sleep, put on her clothes, and gave a “signal.” The heat of the wine rushed through my brain and lust swallowed up the rest of my conscience. I forgot about my wife upstairs.

I walked over slowly, taking a quick breath. She didn’t notice me—or maybe she was pretending not to. About a mile away, I couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed her little from behind. “And…” He nodded slightly, but didn’t flinch.

It further confirmed what I thought—that I was right.

I leaned over and whispered, feeling the warmth of the wine in my breath:
“You’re hiding it. Are you going to sleep like this? You really want to impress the boss, don’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you tonight.”

He remained silent, slightly shaking. I thought it was because of a sore throat or a sore throat. I didn’t waste any more time. I presented him to me but his face was still buried in my chest so I couldn’t see his face. I picked him up and hurried into the guest room on the first floor.

I tossed her onto the soft bed. I felt more comfortable in the darkness of the room. I gave her a kiss, her warm body was so warm.
“Your Excellency… “Your scent…” I whispered as my hands were uncomfortable.

My hand slipped under the thin nightgown, upwards. I want to feel the smoothness of the skin. But…

Putting my hand on her lower abdomen, I stopped. Instead of smooth, firm skin, I was greeted with piercing scars. A long scar below the heart. And all around it, soft skin, stretch marks laid out.

That feeling… Why is it so familiar? This scar—a scar from a cesarean section when Bin was born because of placenta previa. Stretch marks caused by two pregnancies, skin that has been torn and never returned with any cream.

“Oh my God…” I quickly removed my hand as if it were burning. All the intoxication was gone. “Click!” —suddenly the lampshade flashed. I closed my eyes. When I blinked…

Not Huệ.
Lane is
my wife.

But he doesn’t look at me with anger or cry hysterically. He was on his knees, expressionless, tears streaming down the corner of his eye, staring at the ceiling—devastated, soulless.

“What, why did you stop?” he asked softly, as if he were rubbing glass. “Are you looking for the Scarlet Witch?” I’m sorry… it’s all I have—scars.”

I nodded and sat down on the floor. “And… Why… How—”

He sat down, tugging at the edge to cover the scar I had touched earlier—the scar that had made me stop.

“That afternoon, you wrote a letter to the editor. I’ve noticed that you’ve always been obsessed with Huawei. I took him home for three days. I wore the nightgown you bought five years ago but couldn’t wear it at the time because I was embarrassed by my mark-filled belly. I turned off the light. I have been waiting for you. It’s my gamble. I hope you get to know your wife, or at least ask, “Who is this?” But it doesn’t… You are stunned. You called his name. You complimented her skin.”

Lan smiled, a bitter and sideways smile.
“In your eyes, I’m just an old man. And these scars—replacements for my blood to give you a child—that’s why you lost your appetite, right?”

“No! Lan, I was wrong! I’m just drunk—”
I got down on my knees and grabbed his hand but he avoided it.

He stood up, took a piece of paper from the dresser—it was already signed.

“It’s not because of the wine. It just shows your true self. You wanted to feel the skin of a 20-year-old, but what you touched was the sacrifice of a forty-year-old wife. That ‘slap’ you used to feel like you’ve been stabbed—that’s more painful than any slap.”

He tossed the paper in front of me.
“Sign it. You’re free. Starting tomorrow, you can bring Huệ—or any woman with long legs—here. Nothing will lower your appetite because of this ‘ugly scar.’”

He walked out, leaving me alone in the cold room.

I stared at the divorce paper, then at my hands—the hand that had committed an irreparable sin. I can still feel the sting of the scar that I touched. It wasn’t ugly—it was a mother’s medal, the sacrifice I ruined.

That night, I sat alone until morning. But I knew—our family’s morning had completely darkened the moment my hand slipped into reality under the nightgown.

Don’t let desire blind you to your senses. The beauty of youth will be lost, but sacrifice and loyal love—that is the true lifetime. Sometimes, just one wrong handle is enough to ruin an entire life.