His Debt of Gratitude Destroyed Our Marriage

After being married to Julian for seven years, I always assumed the "sevenyear itch" was nothing more than an empty myth.

That was until the daughter of the man who saved his life walked into our world. At first, I didn't think much of it. She was just a young girl, after all.

Gradually, her name began to slip into every conversation Julian had.

He memorized all her likes and dislikes, tolerated every single one of her interruptions, and catered to her every whim.

He even abandoned me on our rare anniversary dinner, leaving me alone at the table just because she made one phone call.

Whenever I confronted him, his excuse was always the same: "Chloe's father took a hit to save my life.

Treating her well is the least I can do for him." What Julian failed to realize was that, somewhere along the line, he had stopped calling the deceased man his savior—he only referred to him as Chloe’s dad.

It was our seventh wedding anniversary. The crowd in the restaurant gradually thinned out. I looked down at my phone. Julian was two hours late.

When the waiter came over for the third time to ask if I wanted to order, I forced a tight smile. "Just a little longer, please.

My husband will be here soon." Right on cue, my screen lit up with a text from Julian. Scarlett, I'm so sorry.

Chloe had an emergency at her college campus, and I need to rush over. Go ahead and eat without me. Don't wait up. The warmth in my fingertips vanished in an instant. Chloe.

Chloe Vance. Her again. Ever since Chloe’s father—Julian’s socalled savior—passed away, that name had invaded every crack and crevice of my life.

In the beginning, Julian only checked in on her occasionally. Later on, a single word from Chloe was enough to pull him away from whatever he was doing.

Still, I never imagined he would leave me stranded on our anniversary. I stared at the message for a long time. Finally, I flagged down the server. "Check, please.

Cancel the food." I returned to a pitchblack house. Expressionless, I sat on the living room sofa, staring into the dark.

At one in the morning, a key turned in the front door lock. Julian walked in, carrying the chill of the night air, his face filled with lingering worry and exhaustion.

He froze when he saw me sitting in the dark. "Scarlett? Why aren't you in bed?" "What was wrong with Chloe?" I asked coldly.

He took off his coat, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Nothing serious. Just a fight with her roommates.

The poor girl was crying her eyes out all alone in the city, so I went to comfort her." "That’s your idea of an emergency?" "Our seventh anniversary couldn't even compete with a college girl crying over a roommate spat?" I lifted my head and locked eyes with him.

In seven years of marriage, I had rarely spoken to him with such venom. Julian frowned. "Scarlett, don't be like this. It's just an anniversary.

I'll make it up to you tomorrow." I stared at him blankly.

Right on schedule, here came the familiar excuse. "Her father died saving my life." "She’s all alone in this city for school.

If I don't look out for her, who will?" "We can have dinner anytime, but she was in the middle of..." "She needed you," I finished his sentence for him.

He paused, looking at me with slight surprise. "Scarlett, you're a grown woman. Why are you picking a fight over a little girl?" "Anyway, it's late.

Go to sleep." He turned and headed for the bathroom, leaving me behind in the cold. Watching his retreating figure, an old memory flashed into my mind.

Last winter, I came down with a 103degree fever and called him. Because he was in a business conference out of town, he merely told me to drink plenty of fluids and rest.

Back then, he said: "Scarlett, you've always been independent and mature. You can take care of yourself." Right. I had always been mature. And that was why I deserved to be ignored.

Julian insisted on making it up to me. He booked a fancy restaurant, bought a massive bouquet of flowers, and even went out of his way to cook breakfast.

It was as if the ugliness from the night before had never happened.

I ate my breakfast in silence, listening to him plan out our day. "We’ll check out that new art museum this morning, lunch is already reserved, and this afternoon..." His phone rang, cutting him off.

He glanced at the screen, then shot me a guilty, flickering look. "Let me take this." He stood up and stepped out onto the balcony.

Through the glass door, I couldn't hear the exact words, but I could see his brows knit together into a deep scowl as he nodded repeatedly. "Okay, don't panic.

I'm on my way." He hung up, walked back inside, and wore a sheepish look. "Scarlett, something happened with Chloe..." "What is it this time?" I put down my fork, interrupting him. "A pipe burst in her rented apartment.

The whole place is flooded, her landlord is out of town, and she has no idea what to do." "So she needs you to go over." I completed his thought.

He fell silent for a second, then reached out to take my hand. "I'll handle it quickly and come right back.

We can still do everything this afternoon." I glared at him, my gaze freezing over. "Julian, do you honestly think I have no backbone?" "You were the one who insisted on making it up to me." He stood frozen. "Scarlett, stop being unreasonable.

She’s a helpless girl dealing with a crisis. How can I just ignore it?" "Ha." A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Unreasonable?

If she has the time to call you, she has the time to call a plumber." "Or building management. Or an emergency line.

Literally anyone would be more useful than you!" "She said she was terrified!" Julian raised his voice. "Ever since her dad died, she’s had no sense of security!

She clings to me like family!" "Scarlett, show some compassion!" Always this. Every single time, he hid behind gratitude and her vulnerability.

Looking at his frantic face, a wave of sheer exhaustion washed over me. "Just go," I said. Relief washed over him like a pardon from the governor.

He grabbed his coat and hurried toward the door. "I'll be back as fast as I can!" The door clicked shut.

I looked down at the cold breakfast on the table, then at the carefully arranged bouquet of flowers. I dragged the trash can over. Item by item, I swept it all into the garbage.

That afternoon, I met up with my best friend, Rachel, for coffee. She looked surprised to see me alone. "Where’s Julian?

Weren't you two supposed to be making up for your anniversary?" I gave her a brief rundown of what happened that morning. Rachel frowned deeply. "That Chloe Vance again?

Scarlett, you need to wake up.

This isn't just 'looking out for someone' anymore." She hesitated for a beat before adding, "Last week at the mall, I saw Julian helping her shop for clothes.

They looked... way too close." My heart felt like it had been pierced by a cold needle. "He told me he was just helping her pick outfits because she didn't know how to style herself," Rachel mocked, imitating how Julian would likely defend himself.

I kept my head down, stirring my black coffee without saying a word. Rachel reached across the table and gripped my hand. "Scarlett, you can't keep stepping back.

A marriage belongs to two people." I understood the logic. I just didn't know what else to do. Forbid him from seeing Chloe? He would brand me as heartless, cruel, and ungrateful.

Keep enduring it? I wasn't a saint. When I got home, Julian wasn't back yet. I opened my laptop and instinctively searched for news about the accident involving Chloe’s father.

Information was scarce. All the reports mentioned was a workplace accident on a construction site due to safety violations, followed by vague summaries.

Julian rarely spoke of the specifics. He only ever said that the man had been his closest coworker and had taken a fatal hit to shield him.

That debt of gratitude was like a mountain, crushing our marriage into dust.

When Julian finally returned, his face was drained, and his clothes were spotted with water stains.

He gasped in surprise when he saw me sitting in the dark living room. "Why didn't you turn on the lights?" "Is it fixed?" I asked. "Yeah, all sorted out.

I helped her dry off her soaked books and clothes while I was at it." He loosened his collar, speaking as if it were routine. "Haven't eaten yet, have you?

Want to order takeout?" "I already ate." I stared right at him. "Did you?" "I grabbed a quick bite at Chloe’s place.

She ordered delivery." He walked over, attempting to sit next to me on the sofa.

I stood up, dodging his touch. "Julian, we need to talk." He sighed, slumping back against the cushions. "Talk about what now? Scarlett, can't we just live our lives in peace?

Why do you always have to obsess over Chloe?" "Live in peace?" I scoffed, my eyebrows raising. "You're the one who doesn't want peace!" "And she’s the one wedged between us.

I'm not obsessing over anything!" "She’s just a kid!" he shouted, raising his voice. "A twentytwoyearold college senior is a kid?" I challenged him. "Julian, look me in the eye and tell me: is your treatment of Chloe Vance really just about caring for a dead coworker's daughter?" His eyes darted away for a split second.

He didn't answer right away. My heart sank to the bottom of an icy ocean. "You remember every single detail about her.

You know she hates cilantro, likes her boba tea with light sugar, is terrified of thunderstorms, and loves plushies." "You even track her menstrual cycle, prepping hot ginger tea and heating pads for her ahead of time." "Do you remember how long I had that coughing fit last month?" "Do you remember when my parents' birthdays are?" "Do you even remember the last time the two of us went to the movies alone?" Silence.

He didn't utter a word. "You don't remember," I answered for him. "Your mind, your attention, your whole heart—it's all been consumed by Chloe." "That's not true!" He snapped his head up. "Scarlett, I treat her well out of guilt!

Because of her dad!

I promised him I’d look after her!" "Look after her to the point where our marriage doesn't even matter?" "I never said our marriage doesn't matter!" He ran his fingers aggressively through his hair, agitated. "You're the one backing me into a corner!

Scarlett, you never used to be like this." "You used to be generous, loving, understanding. When did you become so... irrational and petty!" Irrational and petty. What a joke.

So all my hurt, my loneliness, my heartbreak—it was all just petty jealousy in his eyes.

Looking at this man whom I had loved for seven years and shared a bed with, I suddenly felt like I was staring at a total stranger. "Julian," my voice dropped to a whisper. "If one day, Chloe and I both needed you at the exact same time... who would you choose?" "Hypothetical questions are completely meaningless!" "Answer me." He fell into a suffocating silence.

It stretched on until the skyline outside the window dissolved into pitchblack night. Finally, he said, "Scarlett, stop asking stupid questions.

It doesn't mean anything." It doesn't mean anything. Right. One was his wife who stood by him through thick and thin, and the other was a girl he felt indebted to.

He wouldn't even offer me a white lie like "Of course I'd choose you." That night, we slept in separate rooms. For the first time in our seven years of marriage.

I lay in the guest bed, staring at the ceiling, wide awake. In the dead of night, I heard his bedroom door click open.

Through the hall, Julian's hushed, overly gentle voice drifted in as he comforted the person on the other end of the line.

I gripped the brass doorknob so hard my knuckles turned white, holding myself back from charging out. I knew damn well who was on that phone.

A few days later, an anonymous padded envelope arrived in my mail. Inside was a stack of candid photos of Julian and Chloe.

At the mall, he was carrying her shopping bags, leaning down to listen to her giggle with a gentle smile on his face.

At a coffee shop, she reached up to straighten his collar, and he didn't pull away. Outside her college dorms, she had her arms wrapped around him, leaning into his chest.

And the last one, taken beneath the dim lights of an old apartment building: Chloe was on her tiptoes, her face inches from his lips. The angle made it look like a passionate kiss.

My hands and feet went numb. This wasn't "looking out for an orphan." They had crossed every line in the book.

I spread the photos out across the coffee table and waited for him to come home. Miraculously, Julian got off work on time today.

He pushed the door open, looking relaxed, even smiling when he saw me. "Scarlett, what do you feel like for dinner tonight? We could..." The words died in his throat.

His eyes locked onto the glossy prints on the glass table.

The blood instantly drained from his face. "Where... where did you get these?" he rasped out. "Does it matter?" I asked coldly. "Julian, tell me what this is." His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "It’s not what you think." He stepped forward, reaching out to touch me, but I recoiled. "Chloe was... she was having an emotional breakdown that day.

She just..." "She just what?" I cut in. "She just needed you to hold her?

She just needed to kiss you?" "She didn't kiss me!" he defended himself frantically. "I pulled away!" "So the rest of it is true." A bitter smile spread across my face. "Scarlett, please, listen to me." Pain contorted his features. "Chloe... she might be getting a little too attached to me, but I swear on my life I don't feel that way about her!" "I swear, you are the only woman I love." "I just...

I don't know how to push her away." "Her dad died because of me! Whenever I look at her, all I see is her father covered in blood on that concrete floor!" Here it was again.

The debt of gratitude. Every single time.

He used guilt to muzzle me and duty to hijack my emotions. "So you're using our marriage to atone for your sins?" I asked quietly. "It's not atonement!

It's responsibility!" he snapped, his voice edged with the cornered fury of a trapped animal. "Scarlett, why can't you just understand me?" "If I understand you, who understands me?" Tears finally spilled over my lashes. "Julian, I am your wife." He froze, clearly caught off guard by my tears.

In seven years of marriage, outside of our wedding vows, this was the very first time I had ever wept in front of him.

Panic took over, and he clumsily tried to wipe my tears away. "Scarlett, don't cry. I was wrong, I know I messed up." "I'll set boundaries from now on.

I'll keep my distance from Chloe, okay?" "Please, let's stop fighting." His apology sounded so hollow, so pathetic. "How are you going to keep your distance?" I looked at him through blurred vision. "One phone call, and you'll run to her." "One shed tear, and your heart will break for her." "Julian, you can't do it." "I can!" He grabbed my shoulders, desperation bleeding into his voice. "Just give me one chance!

I swear I can!" I looked into the eyes that once held only my reflection, now clouded with panic, guilt, and turmoil. "Julian." I sniffled, forcing my voice to remain calm. "Let's get a divorce." His grip tightened painfully before he stared at me in total disbelief. "What did you say?" "I said, we're getting a divorce," I repeated, enunciating every syllable.

He let go of me as if burned, stumbling back a step. "No, absolutely not! I won't agree to this!" "Scarlett, over something so small, you want to throw away seven years?

Does our marriage mean that little to you?" "The only thing that has no value here is you," I replied, my heart officially turning to ash. "You're the one who dragged our marriage through the dirt." He stood frozen, his skin gray.

Right at that moment, his phone began to chime. A distinct ringtone. A custom tone set for only one person. Chloe.

He looked at the buzzing phone like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline, but he didn't answer right away.

Instead, he looked at me with pleading eyes. "Scarlett..." The ringtone droned on, stubbornly piercing the suffocating silence of the room.

Seeing him struggle like that was almost comical. "Answer it," I said flatly. "Maybe she has another emergency." He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the screen.

The chime continued. In the end, he tapped the green button. He turned his back to me and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Hello?

Chloe, what's wrong?" Listening to that tender, cautious tone, and watching his turned back, the very last spark of warmth inside me died. I knew that was his answer.

The moment he pressed accept, our fate was sealed. From the speaker, Chloe’s tearful, frantic voice leaked through, sharp and hysterical: "Julian... II'm pregnant...

What do I do...?"