Revised Version 6
In the end, I could do nothing but brood alone in my misery,
and now half a year has nearly passed.
And yet, I still haven’t been able to secure clear proof that my husband is physically unfaithful.
Perhaps if I were to hire a private investigator, I could confirm everything for certain.
But I haven’t had the courage to go that far, and so six months have slipped away in a haze.
There was, however, one thing I did know for sure.
Not long ago, my husband once again went out to the nearby bookstore without his phone.
That gave me the chance to peek at his smartphone.
Sadly, I discovered that, as expected, he was still in contact with each of those women.
If, when I had looked this time, I had found that he had cut off contact with them,
then perhaps I could have stayed silent, kept my sorrow and pain locked inside,
and lived out our life together as planned—side by side until our hair turned white.
But when I saw how they were still playing together, my fragile heart—so weak, so cowardly—
once again fell into despair, and before long my thinking began to shift toward helpless resignation.
Of course, he has always treated me with kindness, not only when I was sick but in our everyday life as well.
He has always been gentle with my parents, too.
So then—
Am I just a narrow-minded, petty woman,
to see his little escapes outside as betrayal, and to suffer and agonize over them?
And with that negative train of thought… I started to wonder—
If I were no longer his wife,
perhaps he would actually be happier.
My beloved husband, even if it is only “play,”
still exchanges words with other women,
and perhaps even shares a physical relationship with them.
But for me, that reality is simply too painful to bear.
I cannot accept it.
And so, almost without realizing it,
I found myself arriving at such a way of thinking.
