My wife’s male coworker unlocked the front door of my house using his fingerprint

Sylvia Hart was stunned.

She looked at me as if she didn’t know me. “What did you say?” I repeated myself. “I said, since I’m not the man of the house here, then of course I should leave.” The male coworker beside her, Ryan Walsh, immediately tugged at her arm. “Sylvia, it’s all my fault.

I shouldn’t have registered my fingerprint. I’ll delete it right now. William, don’t be mad.

I really just thought it would be more convenient.” His voice was gentle, his eyes filled with apology, but that apology never reached the bottom of his eyes.

Sylvia immediately defended him. “It has nothing to do with you. William, don’t overthink it. It’s just a fingerprint.

Ryan often comes over to work overtime or drop off documents, and I don’t want him waiting at the door every time.” After she said that, she frowned at me. “What’s gotten into you today?

Why are you being so immature?” “Immature?” I gave a short laugh. “Right. I’m immature.

I should stand at the door and applaud you and your male coworker, welcoming him home, right?” I turned and went back inside. I didn’t even step into the living room.

I picked up my bag and headed straight out. Sylvia chased after me and grabbed my wrist. “What exactly are you trying to do?” “Let go.” “William, can you stop making a scene?

Ryan is watching.” I shook off her hand and pulled the door open. “Let him watch. Let him get a good look at how the man of the house gets driven out.” I didn’t look back.

The door shut with a loud bang. I got into the car but didn’t start it right away. Sylvia and I met through a blind date. I was twentynine. She was twentyseven.

We were both at that age, and our families were pushing hard. The person who introduced us said Sylvia was honest, had a stable job, and came from a decent family.

My parents were very satisfied. When I met her, she really didn’t talk much and seemed steady. At the time, I had just ended a fiveyear relationship.

I was exhausted and didn’t want to throw myself into some passionate romance again.

I thought finding someone stable, living together as partners and getting through life, wouldn’t be bad.

On the day we registered the marriage, I asked her, “Sylvia, do you have any expectations of me?” She said, “Just be home.

Don’t control me too much.” I said, “Okay.” For the first year after we got married, that was exactly how we lived. I did my thing. She did hers.

She worked overtime, went on business trips, drank with friends. I never asked. I thought that was a kind of respect, a tacit understanding between adults.

I worked hard to play the role of a good husband. I cleaned the house, cooked, washed and ironed the clothes she changed out of.

My parents said that marriage was just like that—plain and ordinary. I believed them.

I thought we could keep treating each other with polite distance like this forever, until today.

One male coworker’s fingerprint made me understand that what I thought was our home, in her eyes, was only a hotel where she could bring other people back whenever she wanted.

If someone was already stepping all over me, what was there left to endure? Then let’s get a divorce. The moment that thought appeared, I suddenly felt my whole body loosen.

I started the car, drove far away, found a restaurant, and ate dinner alone. After dinner, I drove home. When I opened the door, the living room lights were on.

Sylvia and Ryan were sitting on the couch, watching TV. On the table were the snacks and fruit I’d bought yesterday. When they heard the door open, they both turned to look at me.

Ryan immediately stood up. “William, you’re back. I’m sorry, I…” Sylvia cut him off. “What are you apologizing for? Sit down.”

She looked at me, her face expressionless. “You’re back?” “Yeah.” I changed my shoes, ignored them, and went straight back to the bedroom. I needed to take inventory of my things.

When I opened the drawer in the closet, I froze. A tie I’d just bought last week was gone. A new Hermès style. It was hard to get, so I’d found a personal shopper to buy it.

Over three thousand. I’d only used it once. I walked out of the bedroom. “Sylvia, where’s my tie?” She was holding the remote and switching channels.

At my question, she didn’t even lift her head. “Oh, Ryan said his was old, so I let him take yours to use.” Blood rushed straight to my head. “You let him take it?” “Yeah.” She finally looked up at me, her expression completely matteroffact. “It’s just a tie.

I’ll buy you a new one later.” Ryan said quietly from the side, “William, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was that expensive.

I’ll return it to you tomorrow.” “How are you going to return something you’ve already used?” Sylvia grew impatient. “William, that’s enough. Isn’t it just a tie?

I already said I’d buy you a new one. Do you really need to keep sulking over such a tiny thing?” A tiny thing? My home—he had his fingerprint registered.

My things—he could just take them whenever he wanted. These were all tiny things? “Let’s get divorced,” I said. The living room went silent.

Sylvia looked as if she’d heard the biggest joke in the world. “What did you say?” “I said, let’s get divorced.” She stood up and walked over to me. “You want a divorce over a tie?

William, are you insane?” “I’m not insane.” I looked into her eyes. “I just feel disgusted.” Her face flushed red instantly. “Fine. Fine.

You think I’m disgusting, right?” She grabbed her coat from the couch, turned, and walked out. “I’m not coming back tonight.

You can stay here and enjoy being disgusted all by yourself.” The door slammed so hard the whole place shook. Ryan stood up, looking at me helplessly. “William, don’t be angry.

Sylvia just has that kind of temper. I’ll go buy the tie back for you.” “No need.” I looked at him. “You should leave too.” He froze. His face went pale.

In the end, he still picked up his bag and left with his tail between his legs. The whole house finally fell quiet.

I sat on the couch, picked up my phone, and called my mom. “Mom, I want a divorce.” The other end of the call was silent for a long time. “William, you’re being immature again.

Couples argue all the time.

Why are you bringing up divorce at the drop of a hat?” “Mom, she registered another man’s fingerprint on our front door.” “There must be a reason for that. Don’t be so petty.

It’s not easy for women to work outside the home. You need to be more understanding of her.” “She also gave him the new tie I just bought.” “How much can one tie cost?

Didn’t she say she’d buy you a new one? William, you can’t be so willful. Sylvia is a good girl. Don’t push her away with all this drama.”

I didn’t say anything else. So in their eyes, this was also my fault. I was immature. I was petty. I was willful. “Mom, I’m tired.

I’m hanging up.” Sylvia didn’t come home all night. I didn’t sleep all night. The next morning, I was woken by sounds from the kitchen. When I walked out, I saw Sylvia frying eggs.

Morning light streamed in through the window. From behind, wearing an apron, she actually looked a bit like a good, homey wife. She heard me and turned around. “You’re awake?

I made breakfast.” She carried the fried eggs and milk to the table. “Yesterday was my fault. My temper was too harsh. Don’t be angry anymore.” My phone chimed.

It was a bank transfer notification. She had transferred fifty thousand to me. “Use it to buy ties, bags, whatever you want.

Don’t be mad anymore, okay?” She pulled out a chair for me to sit. “Ryan is actually pretty pitiful.” I looked at her and didn’t speak. “His wife treats him badly and scolds him all the time.

All the money he earns gets taken by his wife and wasted.

He just wants to push harder at work, make more money, and get divorced sooner.” She sighed. “I just feel sorry for him, so I help him a little more.

There really isn’t anything between us.” I picked up the milk and took a sip. Then I looked at her. “Then you should marry him.

Since you feel so bad for him, if you marry him, you can help him every day, fair and square.” Her face stiffened. “William, do you have to talk like that?” “I’m just helping you analyze the situation.” She suddenly stood up. “I didn’t want to tell you this so soon.

But since you insist on acting like this, I’ll just say it directly.” She stared at me. “Ryan is moving in.” I thought I’d misheard. “What did you say?” “I said, Ryan is moving in.

He already laid everything out with his wife. His wife kicked him out, and now he has nowhere to go.” “Don’t we have a guest room that’s been empty this whole time?

Perfect.” She said it so righteously. “Sylvia, are you insane too?” “I’m not insane.

I’m just informing you.” Her tone turned cold. “For this house, my family paid the down payment, and I’m the one paying the mortgage.

I have the right to decide who gets to move in.” “You have to agree.” “And if I don’t?” She smiled.

There was a trace of cruelty in that smile. “If you can’t stand it, then move out yourself.”

After she said that, she took off the apron and tossed it onto the chair. “I’ll move his things over today.

Think carefully about what you should do.” The door was slammed shut once again. I sat at the dining table, looking at the untouched breakfast.

So the apology and the money transfer weren’t to ask for my forgiveness. They were just groundwork for the announcement that came after. At three in the afternoon, they came back.

Sylvia was carrying two large suitcases. Ryan followed behind her, holding a cardboard box.

When he saw me, a hint of fear appeared on his face. “William, I’m only staying here temporarily.

I’ll move out very soon.” Sylvia set the suitcases in the middle of the living room. “What do you mean temporarily? Just stay here with peace of mind.

This is the key to the guest room.” She handed a set of keys to Ryan. Ryan didn’t take them. He looked at me. “William, do you agree?” I didn’t look at him.

I looked at Sylvia. “This is your decision. No need to ask me.” Sylvia was very satisfied with how sensible I was being. She helped Ryan push his luggage into the guest room.

I stood where I was, watching the door to that room close. That guest room was where my mom would stay whenever she came over.

The sheets and duvet cover inside were ones I had just changed last month, washed clean, carrying the scent of sunlight. Now, it belonged to another man.

That night, I cooked dinner. Three dishes and a soup. I only set out two sets of bowls and chopsticks, mine and Sylvia’s.

Sylvia came out of the room and glanced at the dining table. “Where is Ryan’s bowl?” “I didn’t cook his dinner.” She frowned. “What do you mean?” “I mean, I’m only responsible for cooking for the two of us.

With one extra person, I can’t do it.” Ryan happened to come out of the guest room and heard that. His face turned a little awkward. “It’s okay.

I already ate outside.” Sylvia’s expression looked awful. “William, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” “Yes.” I admitted it. “I’m doing it on purpose.” That meal had three people and two completely different atmospheres.

Sylvia and I ate in silence. Ryan sat on the couch, holding his phone, glancing at us from time to time. After dinner, I carried the bowls and chopsticks into the kitchen.

Sylvia followed me in. “You embarrassed me today.” “When you brought another man home to live here, did you ever think about my dignity?” “That’s different.

He needs help.” “So do I.” She froze. “I need a home without outsiders in it. Can you help me with that?”