Ariella wasn't listening to anything now that her husband and best friend had gotten together.
"It's because I trusted you both too much that I gave you the chance to hurt me."
She gave me an ultimatum. "Are you leaving or not? If you don't, I'll throw you out myself."
I could understand that she couldn't accept something like this right now.
If it were me, I wouldn't be able to just let it go either.
Helpless, I packed my things and went to stay at a nearby hotel.
After that, I called Ariella numerous times, but she didn't pick up.
She didn't reply to my messages either.
I was anxious and didn't know what to do, constantly distracted at work.
I regretted drinking too much that day more than anything.
If I hadn't gotten drunk, none of this would've happened.
Besides, no matter how much I tried to recall, I didn't think I had touched Chloe.
I was desperately trying to figure out a way to fix things.
But Ariella had already made up her mind to divorce me.
My parents soon heard the whole story from her.
They stormed into the hotel, disappointment written all over their faces.
"Xavier, how could you do something like this? If word gets out, where will our family's reputation go?
"Ariella is a good girl, and you were the one in the wrong. If you can stay together, great. If not... don't mistreat her. We owe her that much."
Their words made me so ashamed, I couldn't even lift my head.
I was their only son. When I married Ariella, her family demanded an outrageous dowry of fifty thousand.
My parents didn't hesitate and gave up their entire savings.
They even helped with the down payment on our house.
All they wanted was for us to have a happy life together.
And now, not even a year later, we were already talking about divorce.
And it was all my fault.
Unable to vent my frustration, I called up a friend to drink away my sorrows.
I hardly ever drank, and I could count the number of times I'd gotten drunk on one hand. But, of course, the one time I did, it caused this mess.
Alcohol really does ruin things.
My friend saw me sit down, looking miserable, downing one drink after another, and couldn't help but ask, "Man, what's going on?"
I hadn't planned on telling him. After all, it wasn't exactly something to be proud of.
But after a few drinks, the words just poured out of me, and I told him everything.
My friend frowned after hearing the whole story. "Dude, do you think you got set up?"