Learning From Others: Time to Change Wives

My wife, Whitney Shaw, is a copycat. Whatever her friends buy, she has to buy too. If they get new watches, she gets one. If they change cars, she changes hers too. Last year, her best friend started keeping a young lover, so Whitney quickly finds one of her own. "Claire and the others are all doing it," she says. "If I don't, it'll make me look like I'm doing worse than them." The day I'm rushed to the ER after a serious car accident, she's busy celebrating the 100-day anniversary of her relationship with her lover. "Claire's spending the day with hers, too. If I don't do the same, how embarrassing would that be?" I curl up in agony, begging Whitney to sign the consent form for my emergency surgery. Instead, she complains that I'm ruining her fun and blocks me for three months. Later, her friends' husbands all file for divorce and walk away with half their wives' fortunes. Whitney, on the other hand, rushes home that very night and breaks up with her lover. "Honey, I've thought it through," she says, busying herself in the kitchen with an apron. "From now on, I'll be a model wife, just like others." I stare at the divorce agreement she previously had drawn up because of her lover. "What a coincidence," I say, flashing her a faint smile. "I've been copying others lately, too. I've decided to follow their example and get myself a new wife." Chapter 1 "You're copying Claire's husband again, aren't you?" Whitney Shaw asked, letting out a soft laugh. She set the steaming bowl of soup on the kitchen island and untied her apron. "Are you throwing another tantrum? Which husband in our circle doesn't fool around? I'll buy you a watch, and you'll get over it. "Sean, enough already. If you're going to throw a fit, at least know when to stop. "I know you're angry because I didn't go to the hospital to be with you a few months ago, but Claire did the exact same thing." She looked at me as though she had every right to be offended. "Everyone in our circle knows how much I dote on my husband. It was just a little harmless fun. Do you really have to embarrass me in front of everyone?" … Three months ago, I got into a serious car accident while rushing to deliver some urgent documents to her. Shards of glass pierced my spleen, and I was bleeding heavily beneath the wreckage. I called her 99 times, but she rejected every single call. On the last one, her young lover, Brian Landry, answered. In the background, I could hear her friends cheering and laughing. "Sean, Whitney's cutting my 100-day anniversary cake right now," Brian drawled. "Claire and the others are all watching. Can't you stop ruining the mood for once?" That day, I was lying outside the operating room, my entire body convulsing with pain. I was losing a dangerous amount of blood, and the hospital urgently needed a family member to sign the consent form. All I got was one message from Whitney. "Claire said men are always pulling the same tricks to get their wives' attention. Keep this up, and I'll block you." She actually meant what she said and blocked me for three months. It wasn't until yesterday, when Claire's husband filed for divorce with evidence of her affair and took half of Claire's shares in the settlement, that Whitney finally began to panic. That very night, she threw Brian out of the apartment and rushed home to cook for me. "I've been cooking this for four hours," she said. Sensing my silence, Whitney pushed the bowl toward me. "I know you're still recovering from your surgery and can't handle the cold, so I added some herbs," she added, a hint of pride in her voice. "Look." She held up her index finger, making sure I could see the blister. "I even burned my hand making this soup for you. "Claire has probably never even set foot in a kitchen. I went this far for you, so what more could you possibly want?" I lowered my gaze to the bowl. The soup was golden yellow, the very dish she used to make so well when she was pursuing me. Back then, she would stay up late making it just to help me regain my strength. But now, even when she treated me well, she had to compare herself to someone else. "I don't want it," I said evenly, pushing the bowl away. "Whitney, I'm not joking. I've already signed the divorce agreement." I tapped the document on the table. Three months ago, she had a lawyer draw it up and send it to me just to please Brian. The agreement stated that our marriage fell apart because I was jealous and emotionally unstable, and that she was filing for divorce against me. At the time, she only wanted to flaunt it in front of her friends to show them how carefree she was. Whitney's expression finally darkened. "Sean, I've already given you a way out," she snapped. "If you're going to throw a fit, at least know when to stop." She snatched up the agreement and tore it in half without even looking at it. "I already told you I'll be a proper wife from now on. What are you still mad at? "I've completely cut Brian off, and Claire and the others are all into going back to their husbands now. I'll stay home and keep you company every day. Isn't that enough?" The doorbell suddenly rang. "It must be Claire and the others," Whitney said, her expression softening. "I invited them over for dinner today. I'll show them exactly how a model wife is supposed to behave. "Don't embarrass me, okay? Don't sit there looking miserable in front of my friends." The moment the door opened, Claire Crawford and several of her equally frivolous friends came pouring in. To my surprise, a flamboyantly dressed young man stood behind Claire—and he wasn't her husband. "Whitney, you really dumped Brian?" Claire asked loudly, throwing an arm around the man beside her as she laughed. "I was only fooling with my husband yesterday. Once I transferred the assets out of his reach, I dumped him today and brought my new man out instead." Chapter 2 Whitney stood frozen. Her gaze darted between the young man in Claire's arms and me sitting there in my loungewear, my expression stoic. "Claire," she began, her voice strained. "Didn't you say you were going back to your family?" A mocking laugh escaped Claire as she sauntered over to the dining table and glanced at the bowl of soup. "Girl, you actually believed me?" She patted Whitney on the shoulder, disdain crossing her face as she glanced at me. "It's just a man. Sweet-talk him a little, and he'll be fine. How could you actually cook for him? That's so beneath you." Whitney stiffened. What she feared most was being embarrassed in front of her friends. I watched her coldly, waiting to see how she'd respond. Suddenly, Whitney turned around and picked up the bowl of soup—the very one she'd spent four hours simmering and burned her hand making. "Who said I made it especially for him?" Right in front of everyone, she poured the entire bowl straight into the nearby trash can. "I was just practicing, Claire," she said airily, not even sparing me a glance. "Come on. I'll take you all out for drinks." As she grabbed her car keys and strode to the door, the young man beside Claire burst out laughing. "Ms. Shaw really has some charm," he remarked. "She's way better than those women who need their husbands to keep them in line." With her ego thoroughly stroked, Whitney immediately straightened her back. Just as she reached the doorway, she stopped and tossed a cold remark over her shoulder. "Sean, I'll pretend I never heard that nonsense about divorce. Your mom's rehabilitation expenses for the rest of the year are due soon. "You'd better think carefully. Once you divorce me, who's going to pay for that bottomless pit?" The door closed behind her. I stared at the bowl of soup sitting in the trash for a few moments before taking out my phone and dialing a number. "Ms. Grant, Whitney just tore up the agreement." Keira Grant's voice came from the other end. "Don't worry. The divorce petition she filed with the court three months ago has already taken effect. The notice of the default judgment would be delivered to her tomorrow." "Good," I replied with a smile. "Thank you for your help." … The next morning, Whitney came home reeking of alcohol and cheap perfume. She tossed her coat onto the couch, slipped off her heels, and walked over to me. I was having breakfast in the dining room. "That college boy Claire brought yesterday was pretty good-looking, but I didn't sleep with another man last night," she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Claire said a woman was expected to play along when she was out having fun. She stayed faithful to her husband out of affection. "I did you such a huge favor. Don't you think you should show me some appreciation?" I swallowed my wholemeal bread and glanced up at her. "What kind of appreciation do you want? Should I give you a medal for your virtue?" Whitney's expression immediately changed as she rose to her feet. "Sean, don't be so sarcastic," she spat. "I didn't even bring Brian yesterday because I was trying to protect you in front of my friends. What more do you want?" She actually had the nerve to call abandoning her lover an act of protection. I set down my glass of milk. "Whitney, have you forgotten? Three months ago, you left me alone at the hospital while I was bleeding to death and waiting for emergency surgery—all for Brian. All now you're telling me that not bringing him along was some kind of favor to me?" At the mention of my surgery, something flickered in Whitney's eyes. "That was an accident!" she argued. "Claire's husband was in a car accident too. He only needed half a month to recover before he went skiing with Claire. Do you really have to hold a grudge for this long?" Irritated, she ran a hand through her hair before pulling a velvet box from her pocket and throwing it onto the dining table. "Fine. Stop making a fuss," she grumbled. "Claire bought that college boy a Rolex yesterday, so I bought you the exact same one. "Put it on and take a look. Then we'll consider the matter settled." I stared at the box, not even feeling the slightest urge to open it. "Claire bought that for her lover, yet you bought the same thing to give to your husband," I said, meeting her gaze. "Whitney, are you trying to copy Claire, or insult me?" My words sent Whitney into a fit of rage. She snatched the box and hurled it onto the floor. It sprang open on impact, and an expensive diamond-set watch tumbled out. "Sean, don't be so ungrateful!" she hissed. "I was willing to spend money to placate you because I still considered you my husband! "If you keep acting like this, don't blame me for bringing Brian back. You think I won't?" The moment she finished speaking, the doorbell rang again. Whitney frowned and went to open the door. Standing outside was none other than Brian, the very man she'd claimed to have cut ties with completely. Chapter 3 Brian stood outside wearing a thin white shirt, his eyes rimmed red. In his hands was a thermal container. "Whitney, I know you only sent me away yesterday because you wanted to put on a show in front of Sean." He cast a timid glance at me, his voice deliberately soft and sweet. It made my skin crawl. "I don't blame you," he said. "Claire's boyfriend went with her yesterday, too. I was worried you'd feel awful after drinking alone, so I made you some hangover soup." Whitney froze. But when she saw my expressionless face, her competitive streak rose again. Claire had a boyfriend bringing her soup. How could she possibly lose to her? Instead of kicking Brian out, she stepped aside and let him in. "You really are so thoughtful," Whitney said, deliberately raising her voice. Brian shot me a smug glance, then walked over to the dining table and poured the hangover soup into a bowl. "Sean, don't be angry with Whitney," he said, holding the bowl and putting on a considerate expression. "Women have to make sure they look good when they're out socializing. If you can't even show her that much understanding, how are you supposed to be her husband? He handed the soup to Whitney, his fingers deliberately brushing against the back of her hand. Whitney clearly enjoyed it and took a sip. "Did you hear that, Sean? Even an outsider knows how to treat me better than you do." I looked at the two of them and suddenly found the whole thing utterly ridiculous. I stood up and picked up the glass of unfinished milk in front of me, but Brian thought I was about to splash it in his face. "Sean, don't do anything rash," he said, cowering into Whitney's arms. "I just care about Whitney." I didn't even look at him. I simply poured the milk into the nearby sink. "The glass was dirty," I replied. "It made me sick." I set the empty glass down on the counter and turned toward the bedroom. "Sean!" Whitney hissed through gritted teeth. "Explain yourself. What exactly are you getting at?" She grabbed my wrist, and I was about to pull away when the sleeve of my shirt slipped back, exposing the scar from the IV line I'd received during my emergency treatment. Whitney's eyes fell on the scar, and her hand recoiled slightly. "Does your hand still hurt? Claire said men still need to be taken care of when they're sick. I'll have my assistant buy some health supplements later." It was Claire again. Even when Whitney was showing concern for me, she had to borrow someone else's words. "There's no need," I snapped, pulling my hand free. Seeing this, Brian immediately moved closer and slipped his arm through Whitney's. "Whitney, if Sean doesn't appreciate it, stop throwing yourself at someone who doesn't care." Whitney's expression hardened. "You're right. Claire said you can't spoil men." She put an arm around Brian and shot me a taunting look. "Since you don't want the health supplements, get yourself ready," she ordered. "Claire's throwing a party on her yacht tonight, and you're coming with me. "Claire's husband will be there too. As my husband, you'll make me look bad if you don't come." Chapter 4 I returned to the bedroom and locked the door behind me. Outside, I could hear Brian's sickeningly sweet voice and Whitney's deliberately exaggerated laughter. "Too bad," I thought. "She's going to be very disappointed." I took out my phone and called the rehabilitation center's director. "Ms. Thompson, have you finished arranging my mother's transfer?" "Mr. Livingston, don't worry. Ms. Grant has personally taken care of everything. The top medical team will be transferring your mom to a private hospital this afternoon." I let out a long sigh of relief. … At three in the afternoon, Whitney pounded on my bedroom door. "Sean, come out and change! The stylist is here." I opened the door and saw a whole line of people standing in the living room, carrying designer suits and makeup cases. Brian was sitting on the couch. "Whitney, this deep-V shirt looks so good," he said. "Claire's boyfriend wore one just like that yesterday." Whitney didn't even look at the suit. She pointed at a more conservative black formal suit beside it and told the stylist to put him in that instead. Brian froze for a moment, then shot me a glare. "Claire said that when you bring your husband to a formal occasion, he should dress appropriately," Whitney said, turning to me. "Those deep-V outfits that show off your abs are meant for the men on the side." She walked over and reached out to touch my hand. "Brian's just a little fun on the side. He can't possibly threaten your position. Just behave yourself tonight. Don't embarrass me in front of everyone." I avoided her hand and let her stylist lead me away to get ready. Whitney's brows furrowed at my indifference. … At eight that evening, the yacht cruised slowly along the river. The deck was brightly lit, filled with elegantly dressed men and women mingling over drinks. The moment Whitney stepped aboard, she dragged me straight toward Claire and her circle. Claire was holding a new man in her arms as she drank. The moment she saw us, she came over. "Well, well, Whitney," she drawled. "You really brought your husband along?" She gave me a once-over. "Sean, you certainly dressed conservatively. Look at the new guy I found. He's young and gorgeous." Whitney's expression stiffened. She'd assumed Claire would bring her husband, but instead she'd brought another lover. In their circle, Whitney always followed everyone else blindly, yet somehow stayed a step behind. "Claire, didn't you say you were going back to your husband?" she asked, trying to salvage her dignity. Claire burst out laughing and patted Whitney on the shoulder. "Come on, you can't seriously be that naive, can you? As long as the husband at home stays put and the lover outside keeps you entertained, that's what being a capable woman is all about." The other women around them immediately joined in. "Exactly! Whitney, you kicked Brian out, and now you don't even have anyone to pour you a drink. How boring!" Whitney's ego took a hit. "Who says I don't?" She pulled out her phone and dialed a number. "Brian, come to the pier right now. I'll have someone take a speedboat to pick you up." She hung up and shot Claire a triumphant look. "Not only do I have a husband to keep up appearances, but I also have another guy to pour my drinks. Claire, that's what you call having the best of both worlds." I stood to the side, watching her show off like a complete fool. All I felt was pity for her. Half an hour later, Brian came hurrying onto the yacht in the deep-V white shirt he'd been wearing earlier, looking like some flamboyant butterfly. The moment he came aboard, he clung to Whitney's side and started whispering sweet nothings. Her friends immediately cheered and teased them. Only then did Whitney feel confident again. She pulled Brian down onto the seat beside her, pointed at the liquor on the table, then at me. "Sean, go pour Brian a drink." The entire deck fell silent. Everyone looked at me as though they were waiting for a show. "How could I let you do that?" Brian gasped, covering his mouth with feigned embarrassment. "Sean's your husband. How could he possibly pour me a drink?" Whitney snorted. "Didn't Claire's husband pour her lover a drink last time? That's called being broad-minded." She stared at me, her eyes full of warning. "Sean, don't make me say it twice. If you don't pour that drink today, you're making me look bad." The river breeze swept across the deck, carrying the chill of early fall. I stood there, taking in how foolish Whitney looked. "I'm not doing it." The color drained from her face. Being publicly rejected by me in front of all her friends was more painful to her than anything. "Sean, have you lost your mind?" She shot to her feet. "Claire's husband at least knows how to put the bigger picture first. I'm only asking Brian to join us and have some fun. But as my husband, you can't even show that much tolerance? "Believe it or not, I'll have my lawyer activate that divorce agreement right now. I'll make sure you walk away with nothing!" She still thought I didn't know the agreement had already been torn up, and was still using the document from three months ago to threaten me. Seeing how furious she was, I suddenly laughed. "Whitney, you always bring up Claire," I said, looking straight into her eyes. "Claire cheats, so you cheat too. If she buys watches for her lover, you do the same too. "Claire threatens her husband with divorce, so you copy her too. You can't even be a cheater without having a mind of your own." The expressions of the women around us changed instantly. Even Claire gave an awkward cough. I'd struck a nerve with Whitney. Her eyes turned bloodshot, and she raised her hand to slap me. "You're asking for it!" she snapped. Just as she was about to strike, a hand caught her wrist. "Ms. Shaw, is hitting someone in public another thing you learned from Claire?"