I'd known about Sonia's male best friend before we got married.
At the wedding, during the toast, Lucas had walked up and shoved a glass of straight liquor into my hand.
"If you want to marry Sonia, you'd better prove you can handle it."
I'd frowned at the brimming glass of baijiu and laughed it off, saying I'd already had too much and asked if we could switch to wine.
He'd made a big show of it, raising his voice so the whole room could hear.
"What's the matter, bro? Weak constitution? No wonder Sonia says you can't perform in bed. All you're good for is bringing her breakfast."
His friends had roared with laughter. Every guest in the room looked at me differently after that.
And Sonia? She'd just patted him lightly on the chest and told him to stop making things up. Not a single word of real anger. Not one sharp rebuke.
After we got married, she'd answer Lucas's calls right in front of me without a second thought, chatting for an hour at a time. She gave away the birthday present I'd bought her, re-gifted it straight to Lucas.
On our wedding anniversary, she left me sitting alone to go comfort Lucas because he was in a bad mood.