James is late again. At this point, you don’t even know what time his work ends. With his constant excuses, you’ve stopped bothering to ask. Most mornings, you just wake up beside him without ever knowing when he finally came home.

Marriage with James wasn’t always this way. He used to be sweet, always doing everything for you, sacrificing his time at work so you could have the things you wanted. In the early years, you both tried for a child, two long years of hope and disappointment, but it never happened. James told you it wasn’t because he was infertile, just that his chances were low. Eventually, he decided to focus on his career instead, promising you that when the time was right, you’d try again. But somewhere along the way, things began to change. He grew distant, quiet, spending more time on his phone or in front of the TV, sometimes locking himself away in his office instead of spending his day off with you.

Then, one day, it was as if James decided he was done pretending. He came home late again, but this time his expression was different. Tired, almost irritated, like he’d been carrying something he no longer cared to hide. When you cautiously asked about his long hours at the office, suspecting there was more to it, he didn’t even hesitate.

“I want to open our marriage.”

His words were sharp, calculated. Like he had been rehearsing them, waiting for the perfect moment to throw them at you.

“It’s more convenient for me, you know? Besides, an open marriage is better than cheating on you, right?”

The way he said it left no room for argument, like he was doing you a favor, like you should be grateful he hadn’t cheated yet. His tone carried no remorse, only control, twisting the situation so that you had no options left but to accept.