He Taught Me Not to Cry

Twenty years together. For the first time in my life, I picked up Leo’s phone. A contact saved under the name "Crybaby" had sent a selfie.

Her cheeks were flushed and broke out in hives from weeping. "Leo, do I look pretty when I cry?" A cold dread washed over me, freezing me from the inside out.

The next second, the bedroom door opened and Leo walked out.

Seeing the phone in my hand, he calmly reached out. "Give it back." My knuckles turned white. "Aren't you going to explain this?" His face remained entirely devoid of emotion. "There’s nothing to explain.

It’s exactly what you think.

I’m having an affair." My voice shook. "Why?" He lit a cigarette, looked at me through the rising smoke, and let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Because she’s better at crying than you are.

Does that count as a reason?" … The silence in the room became absolute. I watched the graywhite plume of smoke rise from his fingertips, drawing a thin, hazy boundary between us.

His gaze drifted past the smoke, landing coldly on my face. "See?" he said, his tone carrying a familiar, weary condescension. "You’re doing it again. Silent, saying nothing.

You don't even have the decency to get redeyed." He turned and began walking toward the balcony, clearly done dealing with me. "Leo," I called out.

He stopped, but he didn't turn around. There were so many questions clawing at the back of my throat. I wanted to ask him when it started.

I wanted to ask him how he could do this to me after everything. I wanted to ask him what he meant by "better at crying." We had dated for ten years and been married for ten.

Twenty years in total. I was thirtysix now. My entire adult life had been woven into his. When was the last time I had actually cried in front of him? I couldn't remember.

But I remembered the year he got hurt. He was twentytwo, freshly out of college and trying to launch his first startup.

He got into a brutal altercation with some local thugs and was badly beaten.

I remember standing in the sterile, fluorescentlit hospital hallway, sobbing so hard I couldn't catch my breath.

When he finally woke up, his face still covered in dried blood and bruises, he reached out with a trembling hand to wipe my tears.

His voice was a barely audible rasp. "Baby, don't cry. Crying is the most useless thing in the world." "Don't worry about me. I'm really okay." From that day on, I stopped crying.

No matter what life threw at us, I held it in. When his startup failed and we lived on instant noodles while working seventyhour weeks, I didn't cry.

When his mother passed away and I had to physically hold him up at the funeral, I didn't cry.

When I suffered a miscarriage so violent it nearly took my life, I kept the physical and emotional agony entirely to myself. I didn't cry.

And later, when he started staying out all night, claiming he was buried in corporate meetings, and I sat alone on the living room sofa watching the sky turn from black to gray, I didn't cry.

The man who taught me that tears were a useless weakness was now telling me he had cheated because another woman was better at it. I swallowed those unasked questions one by one.

They felt like rusted nails sliding down my throat, leaving the taste of iron in my mouth.

Finally, I spoke. "Do you want to draft the divorce agreement, or should I?" He didn't move.

After a few seconds, he tilted his head to look at me. "Donna," he said, using my full name, a patronizing smile playing on his lips. "How old are you again?" I didn't answer.

He put the cigarette back between his lips and turned to face me fully, leaning against the balcony doorframe with a lazy, casual posture. "You're thirtysix, right?" "A woman's prime only lasts so many years, and yours passed a long time ago.

Besides, you don't have a job, you have no income, your body isn't what it used to be, and let's face it—you aren't exactly a beauty anymore." "What do you actually have left?

Oh, right," he paused, as if a particularly amusing thought had just struck him. "We've been married for ten years without a single scrap of protection, and you've never managed to get pregnant once.

You don't even know how to have a baby." "If you leave me, who on earth do you think would want you?" I froze, paralyzed by the sheer cruelty of his words.

I had known this man for two decades. I remembered him at eighteen, running toward me across the high school soccer field after scoring a goal, boasting and grinning.

I remembered him at twentytwo, lying in a pool of blood, desperately whispering my name.

I remembered him at twentyfive, after his first major business success, getting drunk at a celebratory dinner and holding me tight, whispering, "Donna, I love you.

I can finally give you the life you deserve." The cigarette burned down to the filter. Leo stubbed it out on the balcony railing. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He glanced at the screen but didn't pick up. But I saw it clearly. The caller ID: "Crybaby." A sudden wave of nausea hit me, acid burning the back of my throat.

I bit my lip hard to force it down.

Leo slipped the phone back into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and extracted a black credit card. "Here's your allowance for the month." He held it out.

I made no move to take it. He let out a short, dismissive scoff, stepped forward, and shoved the card directly into the pocket of my silk robe.

Then he took a step back, studying me. His eyes swept down and up, as if assessing a piece of property to make sure it was still secure. "Donna, you're not a girl anymore.

Throwing a fit at your age doesn't look like flirting, and it certainly isn't cute.

It just makes you look like a bitter, hysterical housewife." "So be a good girl and don't make a scene. Just pretend you didn't see anything.

Pretend you don't know." "It's better for you, and it's better for me." The front door clicked shut. He was gone. I stood there in the quiet house.

The credit card in my pocket felt like a hot iron searing through the fabric into my skin. The nausea returned, stronger this time. I didn't fight it.

I rushed into the bathroom, gripped the edges of the porcelain toilet, and dryheaved until my ribs ached. Nothing came out.

I slumped against the cold tile floor, resting my forehead against the side of the bowl. My chest throbbed with a dull, heavy ache, and my eyes stung with a dry heat.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to sob until my chest collapsed. But not a single tear fell. It was as if my body was mockingly reminding me: "See? He taught you too well.

Tears are useless." And now, he had fallen for a woman who wept at the drop of a hat. But it didn't matter anymore. It was over. All of it.

I stood up, washed my face, and began gathering every piece of jewelry, every designer handbag, and every expensive trinket he had bought me over the years under the guise of "household expenses" and anniversary gifts.

I packed them all into a single box and left it in the center of the kitchen island where it couldn't be missed.

Then, I opened my phone and sent a text to my best friend, Beryl. "Come pick me up.

I want to go home." After sending the message, I drove straight to a family lawyer’s office to have a divorce petition drawn up.

Only when the paperwork was in my hands did I head to Leo's office. Just as I reached the lobby, the elevator doors slid open. Leo emerged, carrying a young woman in his arms.

Her face was buried in his chest, obscured by her long hair. Seeing me, Leo’s eyes flickered with a brief, cold indifference.

He didn't say a word, stepping past me as if I were a stranger, heading toward his parked car. I stepped into his path, blocking him.

I held out the divorce papers. "Sign it." Leo didn't even glance at the document. "Get out of the way. I have an emergency.

I don't have time for your tantrums right now." I didn't budge.

My voice was entirely level. "Leo, I am not throwing a tantrum." He looked at me as if I had just told a particularly pathetic joke.

Without saying another word, he shoved me aside with his free arm. He placed the woman into the passenger seat and drove off.

I watched the sleek black Maybach disappear into the city traffic. A sudden, quiet curiosity washed over me. I wanted to see what his "emergency" was.

I raised my hand and hailed a passing cab. "Follow that Maybach." The cab rode through the city streets, eventually pulling up outside a luxury villa in the quiet, wooded suburbs on the edge of town.

I paid the driver, stepped out, and walked toward the Maybach parked in the driveway. But as I drew closer, I stopped dead in my tracks.

The car was rocking in a slow, rhythmic motion. I froze. A bitter, icy chill spread through my limbs. An emergency. This was the emergency he couldn't delay.

The muffled sounds of a man’s low groans and a woman’s soft, breathless whimpering seemed to echo through the quiet afternoon air, amplifying until they filled my head.

But I didn't run. I stood there, a silent, hollow statue, witnessing the physical betrayal of my husband with another woman.

After what felt like an eternity, the car door clicked open. Leo stepped out, wrapping his designer suit jacket around a flushed, tearstained young woman.

When he caught sight of me standing there, he paused for a brief second, then let out a low, mocking laugh. "You actually followed me?

You're really going to make a scene over this?" I said nothing.

I simply lifted my numb arm and held out the papers once more. "Sign." Leo stared at me for ten long seconds, the amusement fading from his eyes, replaced by a cold sneer. "Fine.

Wait here." He scooped the girl up and carried her into the villa. I stood in the driveway. I watched the sun dip below the horizon, letting the darkness swallow the yard.

I watched the stars appear, and then watched them fade as the sky turned a pale, bruised purple. I stood there from dusk until dawn.

When the morning sun finally broke through the trees, burning my sleepdeprived eyes, the front door of the villa opened. Leo walked out, holding the young woman’s hand.

For the first time, I got a clear look at her. She was young, her face full of youthful collagen, wearing a piece from the latest haute couture collection.

Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, and when she smiled, deep, playful dimples showed in her cheeks. Leo was looking down at her, talking softly.

It was a look of tender, protective adoration I hadn't seen directed at me in over a decade. My chest felt incredibly tight, my eyes burning with dryness. But still, no tears came.

As they approached, Leo saw me. A flicker of genuine shock crossed his features, as if he couldn't believe I had actually stood there all night.

The girl gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

She immediately clutched Leo's arm, and tears instantly welled in her eyes, spilling over her perfect cheeks. "Leo, this is all my fault," she whimpered. "If I hadn't kept you in bed yesterday, your wife wouldn't have had to stand out here in the cold all night." Leo’s face immediately softened with intense pity.

He reached out, gently wiping her tears away with his thumb. "Oh, sweetie, don't say that.

It has nothing to do with you," he murmured, his voice thick with indulgence. "You just cry so beautifully, I couldn't bring myself to leave." He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to look away. Leo finally turned his gaze to me, tossing his chin toward the car. "You want the divorce? Fine. Get in.

We'll go to my office and discuss the terms." I didn't argue. I walked over and reached for the front passenger door handle.

Before my fingers could touch it, my arm was violently grabbed and yanked backward. "Mimi always sits in the front," Leo said coldly, shielding the girl as he guided her into the seat. "You sit in the back." I had been standing on my feet for nearly fourteen hours.

My legs were entirely numb, stiff from the morning chill. When he pulled me, my knees gave way. I stumbled backward and collapsed onto the gravel driveway.

A sharp, jagged stone sliced through my jeans, tearing into my knee. I gasped as a sharp, hot pain flared up my leg.

When I looked up, Leo was already in the driver's seat, leaning over to carefully buckle Mimi’s seatbelt. He hadn't even looked back to see if I was standing.

Holding back a grimace, I forced myself up and climbed into the back seat. During the entire drive to the office, the two of them flirted and whispered in the front.

I kept my eyes fixed on the window, watching the suburban trees give way to highrises, feeling completely detached from the reality inside the car.

In his spacious corner office, Leo threw a set of documents onto the mahogany desk in front of me. "I’m leaving you the house. That's it.

You don't get another dime of my assets." "For the past ten years, you've done nothing but sit at home while I built this empire.

You contributed nothing to my success, so I owe you nothing." "So think carefully, Donna.

Do you really want this divorce?" "Without me, the comfortable life you've grown accustomed to is gone.

You will never find another man who can provide for you the way I did." "But me? There's a line of young, beautiful women waiting to take your place. And you?

If you're lucky, you'll end up as some middleaged guy's stepmother, and even then—" "Fine," I said, cutting him off. I couldn't bear to listen to his voice for another second.

Leo froze, his mouth halfopen.

I picked up the pen, flipped straight to the final page of the agreement, and pressed the nib to the signature line. "Donna!" He slammed his hand down on the paper, his face darkening with sudden rage. "I am giving you one last chance to think this through.

Are you seriously going through with this?" "Yes." I smiled, gently brushing his hand off the document. "I am absolutely going through with this." I signed my name quickly and cleanly, then slid the paper back across the desk to him. "Now, you sign." Leo’s expression grew increasingly hostile. "Donna, is all of this really necessary over a minor slipup?

Do you have to be so—" "Leo!" I suddenly raised my voice, the raw, suffocating pain I had kept buried deep inside finally fracturing my composure. "You cheated on me!

You slept with another woman, and you have the audacity to ask if this is "necessary"?

Do you have any idea how utterly repulsive you are?" Leo stared at me, momentarily stunned by my outburst.

Then, he grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight and defensive. "We’ve been together for twenty years, Donna! Twenty years without a single break!

People get sick of physical objects after that long, let alone another human being. It's natural." "And besides, if you're so lonely, go find another man.

I won't stop you." In that moment, looking into his eyes, I realized the boy I had loved at eighteen was entirely dead.

The man standing in front of me was a hollow, rotting stranger. I pushed his hands off my shoulders with all the strength I had left. "Don't touch me, Leo.

Don't make me despise you any more than I already do." "Just sign the papers." Leo stood in silence for a few moments. Then, with a harsh scowl, he snatched up the pen. "Fine.

If you want to ruin your life, go ahead. Let's see how long you survive—" He had barely scrawled the first letter of his name when the office door burst open. "Leo...

I'm bleeding," a faint, trembling voice cried out. Mimi stood in the doorway, clutching her stomach. Blood was seeping through her white designer skirt, dripping onto the carpet.

Her face was deathly pale, her eyes wide with terror. "Leo, my stomach hurts so bad..." I stared at her, my mind momentarily blanking out.

The sight of her clutched abdomen, the bright red blood—it was a mirror image of the afternoon I had lost my own child years ago. So. He had gotten her pregnant.

I turned to look at Leo, but before I could even register his expression, a blur of motion passed by me. He had already scooped Mimi into his arms, rushing past me and out the door.

His face was a mask of pure, frantic terror. The divorce agreement sat on the desk, bearing only the first letter of his name.

I walked over, picked up the pen, and carefully finished his signature, mimicking his handwriting perfectly.

Back when he was first starting the company, he used to be so exhausted that he would fall asleep while reviewing contracts.

Out of sheer love and pity for him, I had spent hours practicing his signature so I could sign the routine business agreements on his behalf.

After thousands of documents, our handwriting had become indistinguishable.

I took the signed agreement straight to the courthouse to file for an uncontested dissolution of marriage.

On my way out, I contacted a real estate agent and put our house on the market at a belowvalue price for a quick cash sale.

Then, I texted Beryl and sat on a bench by the curb to wait for her. Thirty minutes passed, but she didn't show up. Just as I was about to call her, my phone rang.

It was Leo. "Donna, if you have a problem with me, come say it to my face.

Don't send your psychotic friend to harass Mimi in her hospital bed." Before I could even ask what he was talking about, the line went dead. I took a cab to the hospital.

As soon as I stepped onto the maternity ward, I heard Beryl's furious voice echoing down the hallway.

She had just slapped Leo across the face, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. "You disgusting piece of trash! She gave you twenty years of her life! Twenty years!

And now that you're rich and powerful, this is how you treat her? You cheat on her and get some cheap little girl pregnant?

How do you sleep at night?" Leo’s face was dark, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Why should I feel guilty?" "For ten years, she's lived off my hard work like a parasite.

She’s a cold, emotionless machine who doesn't even know how to cry, let alone give me a child.

Why should I waste the rest of my life bound to her?" "Leo!" Beryl's voice cracked, her entire body trembling with rage. "She stopped crying because of you!

And do you have any idea why she couldn't get pregnant? She did it to—" "Beryl, that's enough!" I stepped into the corridor, cutting her off, and pulled her back by the arm.

Then, I looked at Leo. "I'm sorry for the disruption," I said quietly. Leo stared at me, a brief shadow of confusion crossing his eyes.

Before he could speak, a weak, pathetic cry of "Leo..." drifted out from the hospital room behind him. His expression hardened back into disgust. "Donna, you are genuinely pathetic.

I don't ever want to see your face again." "I'll sign those papers when Mimi is out of the hospital.

Not a second before." I wanted to tell him that he didn't need to bother, that it was already done. But he had already turned his back on me and walked into the room.

Beryl tried to push past me to go after him, but I held her tight. "Let it go, Beryl," I whispered, my voice exhausted but steady. "It's over. We have a flight to catch.

Let's go home."