Five years of marriage. Three years since I found out. One year of pretending I didn’t know.

I kept smiling, cooking, folding laundry — all while swallowing the acid in my throat. He said he loved me. He kissed my forehead. I wondered if he kissed her the same way.

Tonight, he came home late. Eyes red, hands shaking. I was sitting at the edge of the bed, folding his shirt.

He dropped to the floor. Crawled.

Then — he grabbed my feet. Held onto them like he was drowning.

“Sayang, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” his voice shook “I was stupid. Selfish. Blind. Please… don’t leave me. Give me another chance. I’ll fix it. I swear, I’ll fix it…”

His forehead pressed against my leg, hands trembling around my ankles.

And I just stared at the wall. Because my heart had already left — long before he arrived on his knees.