Found Their Records, Ended the Marriage

I found an old phone in my husband Ethan Lloyd's coat pocket.

The password was his first love's birthday.

Inside were records of every time they had sex — in his office, in the bathroom of the café downstairs, even in our marital bedroom.

"Lily, is it fun invading other people's privacy?"

I turned around. Ethan was standing in the doorway.

I was exhausted. This time, I didn't bother fighting with him.

I just said calmly, "Let's get a divorce."

Ethan smashed the phone on the floor right in front of me, his expression utterly indifferent.

"That's all in the past."