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741words2026-01-26 11:24

I was born with no sense of pain.
My husband, Dr. Adrian Miller, a professor of medicine, forced me to be a live subject for one of his female student to practice on.
He did it just to give her experience.

"Oh God, Professor, I'm so scared... I can't handle blood," she whimpered.
Adrian comforted her softly, quickly guiding her out with his arm around her shoulders.
Before walking away, he tossed over his shoulder, "Chloe gets lightheaded at the sight of blood. Handle the rest yourself."
I struggled to crawl out and call for help.
Eventually, a Good Samaritan brought me to the hospital.
My life was saved.

Feeling completely disillusioned, I decided to divorce him.
I dragged my weak body home late that night.
My keys were missing somewhere.
With my arm in a sling, I knocked heavily on the door with effort.

There was no response for a long time.
Just when I thought no one was home, the door suddenly opened.
Chloe Richards stood there, makeup perfectly done.
"Who is it?" she asked in a sickly sweet voice.
I froze.
She looked me up and down and burst out laughing, "Oh! It's the professor's wife! What a frumpy outfit!"
She was wearing a spaghetti-strap mini dress, her legs pale and slender.
My baggy, bloodstained clothes stood in stark contrast.
My gaze moved past her to Adrian Miller, shirtless behind her.
Before I could speak, his voice dripped with contempt, "Couldn't you clean up before coming back? Nobody wants to see you like that."
He used to say he felt insecure whenever I wore short dresses or dressed too nicely.
Now he said this.
"The professor's wife is just being practical," Chloe giggled, her eyes taunting me.
In the past, I would have caused a scene.
Now, maybe I was too weak, I felt absolutely nothing.
The master bedroom was a mess.
A lacy black bra hung blatantly off the edge of the bed.
I paused, a wave of nausea hitting me.
Adrian followed me inside.
Seeing the bra, his face stiffened slightly, "Don't get the wrong idea. Chloe just changed clothes here. She must’ve forgotten it."
I took a deep breath.
The air was thick with overpowering perfume, making me gag.
I didn’t say a word.
I went to the guest bedroom, locked the door, and collapsed onto the bed.
My exhausted body finally found some relief.
Soon, knocking came at the door. "Emma Wilson, it's late. Where's dinner? So I asked a small favor, and now you're sulking?"
Sulking?
I curled my lips into a tired smile.
I almost bled to death. And to him, that was just sulking?
Last night, he'd suggested that I—someone who can’t feel pain—let Chloe practice on me.
He said it was just a small incision to observe muscle and vascular structure.
"Since you don't feel pain anyway, contributing to medical science is the least you can do, right? My students are future leaders in their field."
I knew he always thought my abilities and education were beneath his.
After five years of marriage, he often said things like that.
I always gave in, feeling insecure.
This time, I suddenly didn't want to.
When I refused, he didn't argue.
Instead, he heated a glass of milk for me—something he rarely did.
He lectured me earnestly about the importance of live practice.
My eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
I sensed something was wrong, but it was too late.
I woke up freezing.
My eyelids felt like lead.
I heard Chloe's tearful voice. "There’s so much blood... I'm scared."
"Don't be afraid. I'm right here."
I felt warm liquid trickling down my arm.
I forced my eyes open.
A large pool of blood stained the floor.
Adrian looked panicked.
He scooped Chloe into his arms and rushed towards the door.
I managed a whisper, "Don't go... call an ambulance..."
"It’s just a scratch. Why call an ambulance?" He didn't look back. "Chloe fainted. Handle it yourself."
I crawled—literally crawled—towards the door.
I was fading fast.
Someone found me and got me to the hospital.
That saved my life.
He ignored my pleas and forced me to be a live subject.
He abandoned me when I begged for help.
And he called that sulking?
Six years of feelings vanished in that instant.
It all felt utterly meaningless.
I pushed myself up, opened the bedroom door, and said with chilling calm, "I want a divorce."