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He Threw Out My Cat, I Discovered His Secret Wife
My husband left my cat beside the trash because our houseguest wanted her gone. I took Mochi and left. When I asked for a divorce, the truth came out: our guest was his legal wife, their son was already five, and my marriage certificate was fake. I'd spent years funding his business and paying his wife's tuition. Now he wants me home to cook, clean, and keep paying. Instead, I'm collecting evidence and demanding my money back. He can keep his real marriage. My cat and I are leaving for good.
Chapters (2)
第1章
I find my cat in her carrier beside the trash cans outside our apartment building.
My husband put her there.
Upstairs, he won't unlock the door.
"Is she with you?" Ethan asks through it.
Mochi presses against the back of the carrier. She hasn't made a sound since I found her.
"Open the door."
"Sophie found cat hair in her food, Claire. We've talked about this."
I look down at the carrier. The towel inside is bunched up beneath her paws.
"You left her next to the garbage."
"I put her somewhere you'd find her."
"I've been looking for forty minutes."
"Then you should have answered your phone."
My phone is in my coat pocket. I called him six times.
Behind him, Sophie says something too softly for me to hear.
His voice changes when he answers her.
"It's fine. Go sit down."
Then, to me, "She's barely eaten all day. Can we please get through one dinner without a fight?"
Five years.
That's how long Mochi has lived with us. I adopted her three weeks after our wedding, when she was small enough to fall asleep in one of my slippers.
Ethan used to send me pictures of her while I was at work.
Now he's leaving her beside the trash.
"Let us in," I say.
"You can come in. The cat needs somewhere else to stay."
I stare at the door.
A few months ago, Sophie needed somewhere to stay, too.
She was finishing a college program in the city. Her housing had fallen through. Ethan had known her family for years, and we were already helping with her tuition.
"It would only be until she gets on her feet," he told me.
I washed the guest room sheets myself.
The first thing to disappear was Mochi's bed by the window.
Sophie was allergic, Ethan said, although she never seemed to sneeze.
Then the scratching post went into the closet.
Sophie complained about the sound of paws in the hallway at night.
Our wedding picture came off the living room wall because she wanted that spot for a piece of art she'd made.
When I asked where he'd put the photo, Ethan told me I was making her feel unwelcome.
"Claire?"
I tighten my grip on the carrier.
"Take her to your parents," he says. "Or find someone who wants her. You're being unreasonable."
My parents live a flight away.
He knows that.
On the other side of the door, a fork scrapes a plate.
They're eating dinner.
I'm standing in the hallway with my frightened cat, waiting for permission to enter my own home.
"Fine," I say.
The lock clicks.
I'm already walking toward the elevator.
"Claire?"
I don't turn around.
The veterinary clinic is still open when we arrive.
Mochi's regular vet checks her over while I stand beside the table with my coat on.
"She seems physically fine," she tells me. "Probably just scared."
I let out a breath that hurts my chest.
When she places Mochi back in the carrier, I reach through the open door. Mochi pushes her head against my fingers.
"Can you take her somewhere quiet tonight?"
"Yes."
For once, I don't have to think about how Ethan will react before I answer.
I book a room at a hotel that allows cats, then stop for litter, cat food, and a cheap litter box.
At the hotel, I set everything up in the bathroom and open the carrier.
Mochi stays inside for almost an hour.
I sit on the floor a few feet away and wait.
Eventually, she comes out. She sniffs my shoes, rubs against my knee, and climbs into my lap.
That's when I start crying.
Not loudly. I don't want to scare her again.
I keep one hand on her back until her breathing slows.
My phone lights up beside me.
Ethan.
Where are you?
A second message arrives.
You've made your point.
Then a third.
Be home early tomorrow. Sophie wants those breakfast sandwiches you make.
I read it twice.
There's nothing about whether I'm safe.
Nothing about Mochi.
One last message appears.
And don't bring the cat back until we've figured this out.
Mochi stretches across my lap, warm and heavy, finally asleep.
I turn off my phone.
第2章
Four days later, Ethan is waiting outside my office with flowers.
For a second, the sight of him stops me.
He's wearing the coat I bought him last Christmas. His hair is slightly damp from the rain, and he looks relieved when he sees me.
"There you are."
He steps forward and holds out the bouquet.
White lilies.
Sophie's favorite.
I keep my hands in my pockets.
"How did you know when I'd be leaving?"
"I'm your husband, Claire. I know your schedule."
He says it like an accusation.
People move around us on their way to the parking garage. I step away from the doors.
"What do you want?"
His smile slips.
"To see you. You've barely answered me."
"I told you I'm safe."
"You said you were at a hotel. You didn't even tell me which one."
"I didn't want you coming over."
He looks down at the flowers, then back at me.
"Are we really still doing this?"
I'm suddenly tired.
Not angry. Not surprised.
Just tired.
"I have somewhere to be."
"Come home." He moves closer. "I miss you."
For one foolish second, I want to believe him.
Then he adds, "The place is a mess. Nobody's had a decent meal all week."
I look at the bouquet again.
He follows my gaze.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"I thought you'd like them."
"Sophie likes lilies."
"You like flowers."
He sounds impatient now, as though I'm deliberately missing the point.
"I thought we could have dinner," he says. "You could make those ribs. It's been forever."
I don't eat ribs.
I haven't since a stomach bug put me off them two summers ago.
Sophie asked for them the first week she moved in. Ethan told her I made the best ones she'd ever taste.
"Does she know you're here?" I ask.
"Of course she knows. She feels terrible about everything."
"Does she?"
"She said she never meant to come between us."
Across the street, a car horn sounds. Someone behind me laughs into a phone.
It's strange how ordinary the evening feels.
For months, I've waited for Ethan to understand what has been happening in our home.
He understands.
He just expects me to accept it.
Six weeks ago, a man followed me out of a train station after work.
When I crossed the street, he crossed, too. When I stopped outside a grocery store, he waited near the entrance.
I went inside and called Ethan.
"I can't leave right now," he said.
"Could you come get me? Please?"
"Ask someone at the store to walk you out."
I took a cab home.
Ethan and Sophie were at the dining table when I arrived, surrounded by little bags of colored beads. They were making a picture from a kit she'd ordered.
"You didn't tell me it was serious," he said later.
"I told you someone was following me."
"But you got home, didn't you?"
The finished picture is hanging where our wedding photo used to be.
Now Ethan holds out the lilies again.
"Take them. My arm's getting tired."
"No, thank you."
"Claire."
"I'm not coming home."
He exhales through his nose.
"Okay. Fine. Bring the cat."
I look at him.
"I talked to Sophie," he says. "She's willing to try. We just need some rules. Keep it out of the kitchen, vacuum more often—"
"Her."
"What?"
"Mochi is a she."
He closes his eyes briefly.
"Whatever. You know what I mean."
I think of the hotel room. The little litter box in the bathroom. Mochi sleeping against my stomach instead of hiding under the bed whenever footsteps pass.
For the first time in months, I've been sleeping through the night.
"I want a divorce."
Ethan stares at me.
Then he gives a short laugh.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm contacting a lawyer."
His expression changes.
"Over a cat?"
I say nothing.
"I show up here with flowers. I tell you to bring it home. What else do you want from me?"
A woman coming through the doors glances at us. Ethan notices and lowers his voice.
"Come on. We can talk about this in the car."
He reaches for my elbow.
I step back before he touches me.
His hand stays in the air for a moment.
"Five years," he says. "You're throwing away five years because I put a cat outside?"
"I called you six times."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"You knew where she was. You let me keep looking."
"I was trying to get you to listen."
"I am listening."
He looks at me, finally quiet.
"You told me I could come home without her," I say. "I'm telling you neither of us is coming back."
I walk toward the corner to meet my ride.
This time, he doesn't follow.