My Husband's Daily Divorces!

The loud screech of tires gripped the pavement as Raymond Dennis's car skidded to a halt in the garage. In his eyes burned twin fires, feral and demanding, as he pulled the supple body towards him, wrapping his arms around her slender waist. He leaned in, passionately kissing her lush, red lips.

It was a kiss devoid of tenderness, reflecting the hunger of a beast, relentlessly nipping and biting.

Yet, Alva Mary seemed not to mind. On the contrary, she reveled in it, responding with equal enthusiasm. She parted her lips, her tongue twining with Raymond's. Her hands were not idle either, skillfully unbuttoning his dress shirt.

Feeling her confidence, Raymond pushed her onto the car's dashboard, transitioning from exchanging heated kisses to nipping at her neck.

Her throat released soft, suppressed moans.

Simultaneously, in the heart of the city, a broadcast station stood. Unbeknownst to her, the leaves of the Indian Lilac outside her window had sprouted a fresh, tender green. The biting chill of the previous winter was gone.

Anthea took a sip of her coffee, glancing at her watch. Her show was about to begin.

She was the host of the Morning Welcome program. However, last month, the radio station reassigned her to develop a new segment: Midnight Heart-to-Hearts.

Accustomed to her early bedtime and wake-up, she relied on coffee to stay alert while working. She reviewed the script one last time before entering the recording room. This was a live radio show, combining personal stories with listener interactions. She didn't want any mishaps, however small. A non-script piece of paper caught her attention in her pile of documents.

"DIVORCE PAPERS." The two bolded words leaped out at her. She instinctively took a large gulp of her bitter coffee.

That afternoon, again, Raymond Dennis's lawyer - her husband, in the name - had sent over divorce papers. He was always like that. Even with such a significant matter as filing for divorce, he delegated it to his lawyer. She often wondered if he would have sent a representative to their wedding if the law had permitted it.

Anthea sighed deeply, her gaze drifting out the window. She lost count of the calls she had received from the lawyer. They all carried the same message: Divorce. She could never comprehend why her husband was so hell-bent on divorce. Or perhaps they were a couple in name only, so understanding each other's feelings was a moot point for the incapable.

With his professional and familiar tone, the lawyer would start the conversation: "Is this Mrs. Anthea Nicholas's phone? I am Raymond Dennis's attorney. I am calling to discuss my client's wish for a divorce with Mrs. Anthea here...."

And the conversation would conclude with the divorce papers delivered to her workplace, the radio station. Their marriage of several years had fewer interactions with her husband than with his lawyer.

Right after their wedding, he had used work as an excuse to leave early and return late, under the scrutinizing gaze of their families. Eventually, this pattern morphed into him not coming home at all. Being apart for ten days to two weeks was commonplace.

Before transitioning to her evening shifts, several days had elapsed since she had last seen his face.

In the aftermath, she was preoccupied with familiarizing herself with her newly assumed responsibilities, thus barely noticing his absence. One telling sign was his perennially vacant parking spot in the garage.

"Ms. Anthea, the director instructed me to call you. The show is about to start in a few minutes." the young technician's voice tore her away from her reverie, nudging her back to reality.

Nodding, she set her stone-cold coffee cup on the table and walked towards the recording studio. She slipped on her headphones, adjusted the microphone, and signaled to the technician.

A countdown commenced.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one...

The technician then hit the button for the jingle: "Hello, dear listeners. Welcome to 'Heartfelt Conversations with Anthea,' broadcasted daily at twenty-one forty-five hours on FM 98.8 MHz. I'm Anthea, always here to listen to your innermost thoughts. Holding a warm cup of tea this morning and listening to the weather forecast, I was taken aback by the advent of a new season. I'm curious if my inattentiveness is to blame or if the absence of someone reminds me of the changing seasons. And what about you, dear listeners? Let's connect with our first caller and hear what they wish to share."

Meanwhile, Raymond and Alva were in a car, immersed in each other's embrace. Their movements inadvertently triggered the radio button on the dashboard. They both froze in place, for Anthea's familiar voice filled the car's compact space.

"...I hope that the young lady and her boyfriend will resolve their misunderstanding and not part ways over trivial matters. Dear listeners, finding one another amidst this bustling world is incredible. I hope you always know how to love and cherish those dear to you. Now, let's connect with our next caller. 'Heartfelt Conversations with Anthea' is broadcasted daily on FM 98.8 MHz. I have successfully connected with our next caller. Hello, could you please introduce yourself first.."

An ominous silence swept over them.

Raymond disentangled himself from Alva, sat upright, and adjusted his shirt collar. He grabbed a water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and drank half of it in a single gulp. Any man engaged in an intimate moment with a woman in a car would lose his mood upon accidentally tuning into his wife's live radio show, just as he did.

Alva awkwardly resettled on the passenger seat, cautiously peeking at Raymond, and upon seeing no sign of his anger, she secretly heaved a sigh of relief.

But why should she be blamed? She hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't respect Anthea. Otherwise, he wouldn't be so openly unfaithful time and time again. If she wanted to win him over, making Anthea uncomfortable seemed the way to go.

Having decided, Alva flashed a seductive smile and cooed at him: "Raymond... do you want me to provoke her?"

Raymond squinted at her and asked: "What can you do?"

She took his hand and placed it on her ample chest: "Just feel here, and watch what I can do..."

The taste of temptation was so irresistible there was no reason to resist. He complied with her suggestion while watching closely to see what she would do next.

All Alva did was open her purse, extract her phone, punch in a number, and make a call. He was familiar with the number she dialed - the interactive hotline for Anthea's radio show listeners. He wondered what sort of devious prank this woman, who had used all her wits to seduce him, would come up with now. He waited with grim anticipation.

The call was swiftly connected to the broadcasting room. Alva smirked, deliberately stating: "I've been dealing with quite an annoying situation recently and thought I'd call your show to ask - what should one do if her fiance is stolen away?

Here's the story: I have a very close sister. She and her fiance were deeply in love, and they had been together for ten years without any major conflicts, which made me happy for her. They were even planning to marry, expecting a dreamy wedding and a happy life.

However, as you know, life is full of surprises. She suddenly faced a severe setback and had to postpone the wedding. Unexpectedly... unexpectedly, while she was absent, a third party intervened and ruined everything...! How should I talk to her when she comes back?"

From the beginning of the call, Anthea felt a sense of familiarity with the caller's voice but couldn't be sure. However, as the story unfolded, it became clear - it was someone she knew.

Alva Mary, who must have stumbled upon her radio show and deliberately called in to embarrass her. Her story was not a lie but a painful truth Anthea had long buried deep within herself.

Raymond, the man she called her husband, who had repeatedly filed for divorce, was originally her sister's fiance. Alva told the tale of Anthea's interference in her sister's love affair. Ironically, Anthea registered to marry her future brother-in-law, not her sister. Even she didn't dare to face her sister upon her return.

Anthea felt a sudden pain in her chest. It turned out that hearing others talk about this matter could still hurt her so deeply. The technician outside the studio was gesturing to her, urging her to answer the caller's question. On the other end of the line, Alva was silent, apparently waiting for her response.

Anthea took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. She had been a radio host for many years and had dealt with numerous tricky situations. However, being publicly ridiculed on her show was a first.

She muttered: 'Come on, Anthea, you can handle this. At least you can't let anything unusual happen on the live broadcast.'

Today, she had to get through this. Because her segment, Heart-to-Heart with Anthea, was reaching many listeners. If she couldn't handle this, then she might as well quit after today's episode.

Anthea picked up her teacup, took a small sip, and finally replied: "Dear listener, I understand how you might feel when encountering a situation that makes you unhappy. However, each party involved has its reasons. You might tend to side with your close sister as an outsider, but..."

Before Anthea could finish her sentence, Alva interjected: "Oh, Anthea, you don't understand my feelings. Some experiences have to be personally encountered to understand them truly.

This third party is shameless, meddling with others' emotions yet bearing the mask of morality. She always acts as if she's holding the moral high ground.

Tell me, she knew that was committed, yet she seized the first opportunity to wriggle her way in - if that's not a third party, what is? And using schemes to coerce the man to marry her... I have never seen such disgusting behavior.

Now that I recall, she's just like you, Anthea, whose job is to listen to confessions and advise others. Preaching principles and values with a character as worthless as a rag."

Unconsciously, Anthea's hand tightened around her teacup. Mocked by a bystander like this, anyone would seethe with anger.

She steeled herself and retaliated: "Right now, you're viewing the situation from a personal moral standpoint. In reality, the entire thing is only as you perceive it and think it is, but that may not necessarily be the truth.

You've hastily passed judgment and relentlessly insulted others without fully understanding the truth. That's not what a civilized and courteous person should do.

Furthermore, you're merely an outsider. Like how only the drinker knows the temperature of the water, the love triangle involving the three of them is not for you to judge.

Ultimately, you're just an outsider without any right to intrude upon their private affairs. You should reconsider the matter, think it through more thoroughly, and at least refrain from insulting others like this."

When Alva saw Anthea's assertive retort, she prepared to raise her voice in argument but barely uttered "You.." before she heard a chillingly dismissive grunt from the man beside her.

Only then did she remember she wasn't alone? There was another person there. Seeing Raymond's stormy demeanor, she quickly ended the call in fear. Raymond turned off the radio.

Women are arguing. How utterly vexing. Partly for that reason but also because he didn't want to hear Anthea's voice any longer. To rid himself of the baseless annoyance, he pulled Alva closer, again nipping at her supple neck and delicate collarbone. Alva hung up, leaving Anthea to sigh in silence. The unmistakable grunt of a man she had heard on the other end of the line was undeniably Raymond.

It would be laughable to admit, but as his wife, the sound most familiar to her from him was that very grunt, just as it had resonated in her ears moments ago. After uttering her final words, she rushed out of the studio and into the restroom.

Splashing her face with cold water, she shook her head, attempting to maintain her composure.

Yes, she had stood up against the mockery. If looking at today's events alone, she may have succeeded. But what about the reality of it all? It was more complicated.

Hadn't Alva voiced out the truths Anthea had been deceiving herself with for so long, running from and refusing to acknowledge? She was known as Raymond's wife and a wife wedded in a legitimate ceremony and accepted by his family.

But she was merely a stand-in.

She had agreed to marry her future brother-in-law to rescue her grandfather's business.

Their beginning was flawed, steeped in sin. From the moment she'd signed the wedding papers, she knew she had no right to expect love or respect from the man she was about to marry. Later, when her sister returned, she would step back, surrendering him to her rightful place. Happiness stolen could never endure, especially when neither found joy in their union.

She was tidying her desk, preparing to leave, when her eyes fell on the divorce papers at the top of her stack of documents. She shook her head with a faint smile. So absent-minded of her, leaving them out in the open. Fortunately, her desk was a private space, untouched by others. Otherwise, who knew what thoughts would arise from witnessing such a ridiculous sight?

A renowned radio host, married into a wealthy family with a thriving career and enviable lifestyle, she'd always been considered a winner. However, she shuddered about how her colleagues would react if they knew her secret. Would they express sympathy, disdain, pity, or mockery?

"Has Miss Anthea left yet?" A young technician peeked into her office, grinning at her. Everyone wanted to maintain a cordial relationship with her, with her combined beauty, talent, and robust backing.

Looking up, she returned the smile: "Not yet, just packing up. What about you? You're still here too?"

The technician glanced around before shaking her head: "The director and editor left earlier. I stayed behind to shut down the equipment and close the windows. I saw the light in your office and thought I'd check in. I didn't expect you to be here. That is a good thing, too. Otherwise, I'd be scared to death. Staying behind at the station alone is creepy."

Anthea chuckled at her innocence and stood, neatly stacking her documents before picking up her bag: "Let's go then. It's late."

The technician quickly packed her bag, following Anthea out of the office, carefully turning off the lights and closing the door behind them.

Once they reached the radio station's gate, the young woman waved: "I'll go ahead, Miss Anthea. My boyfriend is waiting for me. He insists on picking me up daily even though I told him it's unnecessary. Oh, and your husband seems to be busy. I've never seen him picking you up."

Her words, casually spoken, left a sting in Anthea's heart. She simply nodded to pass over the topic, but inside, she felt a bitter amusement. Her husband, indeed. He was waiting for her to sign the divorce papers, releasing him from their farce of a marriage, not to pick her up from work.

Unaware of her discomfort, the technician interpreted her reluctance as an aversion to discussing her private life. Wealthy people often like to keep their personal lives confidential. She shrugged, waved once more, then ran off to meet her waiting boyfriend.

Seeing the young couple interact, the boyfriend tenderly ruffling the girl's hair, carefully placing a helmet on her head, Anthea couldn't help but feel a pang of loss. The young woman mounted the worn motorbike, holding her boyfriend tight around his waist. They sped off into the night, leaving Anthea alone in the dimly lit station entrance.

In no time, the night swallowed the radiant yellow light of the car. Anthea shook her head and laughed, unsure whether she was laughter hing at the youth or herself.

She wandered toward the parking lot. At eleven o'clock in the evening, the entire city was silent. Street lights flickered, and people rushed home to their peaceful nests.

Only those with someone waiting behind their warm home doors felt the need to hurry back.

As for her, she felt both the presence and absence of such a feeling.

Work, love, family... All were burdens resting heavily on the slender shoulders of the young woman. Returning home only meant solitude in the large, desolate mansion.

Going out, no one inquired; coming back, no one cared.

There were times when she yearned for the simple and peaceful happiness other girls had, a couple working together, building their home.

But such moments were fleeting.

She needed to live for reality rather than dream of something distant. Eventually, her elder sister would return.

Then, she would willingly step back, and go far away, ensuring her existence wouldn't remind her sister of past mistakes.

All the events of yesterday, today, they would pass by tomorrow.

Her sister would live happily with the man who adored her. That would be enough. As for herself, the heartache, sorrow, guilt...

Or all the indescribable emotions that had haunted her for so long would gradually disappear.

In a day, two days, a year, two years, or ten years, she would find her happiness and no longer live off what she stole from others. The road from the radio station to the mansion was nearly half a city away.

Her husband rushed and neglected the marriage, so their marital home was randomly selected from his real estate.

The chosen mansion was large, beautiful, and luxurious but far from the city center. After their marriage, Raymond's days in the estate could be counted on one hand while she traveled back and forth daily.

Each workday was a chance for a breezy drive, enjoying the cityscape. She turned off the music, and the melody in the car fell silent.

The home was close. Driving into the garage, she noticed something unusual.

The matte black Ferrari was arrogantly parked in the corner of the garage.

The man who had been absent for a month suddenly remembered he had a home... The couple in the car seemed entwined for some time and was reaching a passionate peak.

Viewing through the glass door, she vaguely made out the figure of a woman straddling a man's body.

Sweaty and intertwined, the man buried his desire in the taut body of the woman.

Anthea sighed again and seemed to sigh more than usual today.

Indeed, nothing good ever came from being involved with Raymond. After working late into the night, her body and soul were exhausted.

She honestly didn't have the energy or mindset for anything else.

Choosing to ignore the lecherous spectacle of the two adulterers putting on a passionate display, she was about to retreat into the house. The moment Alva sensed the existence of a third party, her concentration wavered, casting a sidelong glance outside.

Recognizing Anthea, a derisive chuckle echoed silently within her.