If this had been any other time, I would have swallowed my pride, coaxed her back, and submitted to another round of humiliation just to keep her happy.
But this time, I simply stood, wiped the filth from the corner of my mouth, said "Fine," and walked out.
Vivienne froze. A second later, a teacup exploded against the floor behind me.
"Adrian! I knew it. You were never sincere about us. It's only been four years, and you're already disgusted with me, aren't you?"
I stopped. Turned slowly. Looked at her with a hollow, self-mocking smile.
"Vivienne. Doesn't any of this disgust you?"
Something in my expression must have registered, because her fury stalled mid-sentence. The outrage froze on her face, and her eyes darted away, unable to hold mine.
"Adrian, what are you talking about? We're husband and wife. There's nothing disgusting about what we do."
I slammed the door shut. I couldn't stand to look at her for another second.
The sweet, vibrant girl I'd once known was gone. All that remained was something vile and shameless.
The next day, while she was at work, I hired a private investigator.