The Night I Left, He Turned Grey

Sean had always known Leila was beautiful, and her figure was striking. He never tired of their rare moments of intimacy. Yet, the thought of being with anyone else filled him with guilt—as if he’d be betraying the woman he truly loved. So for all these years, he had held himself back.

But...

Leila was his wife. And tonight, she was undeniably alluring.

Leila was also aware that he was staring. But she also knew that a man who only had room in his heart for his one true love would never truly want her.

So she moved about the room as usual, casually picking up the hairdryer. Sean, however, stood frozen, his gaze trailing her every motion.

He watched as she turned her back to him, gathering her long, waterfall-like hair to one side. It exposed the slender, pale curve of her neck, and a faint, damp fragrance lingered in the air.

His throat tightened. Then, suddenly, a warm hand closed around Leila’s waist. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

"I remember you’ve always wanted a child," Sean said, switching off the hairdryer in her hand. He took it from her and pulled her gently into his arms from behind.

Leila had once desperately wanted a child with the man she loved. But at that moment, all she felt was revulsion.

"Not anymore," she said softly.

Sean frowned. He lifted a hand, gently gripping Leila’s chin before trailing his fingers down the side of her neck. Her skin was soft to the touch—tempting.

He felt a shift stirring within himself. Leila’s eyes widened slightly in shock.

"You’ve been working hard lately—caught between chores and your job, haven’t you? Let’s have a child. After that, you can just stay home and be a housewife. Sounds good?"

In his mind, Leila had not only stopped cooking for him but had also begun distancing herself from the Sinclair family’s affairs. She had been acting in ways he couldn’t quite understand.

This wasn’t a good sign. He needed a wife who could manage the household, and the Sinclair family needed a compliant daughter-in-law.

Since Leila wanted a child anyway, giving her one would solve everything. It would tie her to the home for good.

What was so important about a job that paid just $550 a month? It would only be embarrassing if anyone found out.

He leaned in, aiming for her lips, when Leila turned her head away. Sean’s eyes darkened instantly. "What do you think you’re doing?"

"I don’t want it anymore," Leila said, her gaze fixed firmly on the man reflected in the mirror.

Sean could sense his wife slipping beyond his control with each passing moment. Though he was usually composed and gentle, his face hardened as his fingers tightened around her chin.

"You’ve been talking about having a child for four years. Now I’m finally willing to give you one, and you don’t want it anymore?" A sudden, unsettling thought crossed Sean’s mind, and his eyes turned cold. "Are you seeing someone else?"

His words struck Leila like a blade, slicing through her heart. She looked at him with a cold, heavy gaze, as if silently asking, ’Are you serious?’

Then Leila broke free from his grip, turned, and went back to her room, slamming the door behind her. Sean had never faced rejection from Leila like this before. From the moment they met through the past four years, she had always followed his lead without resistance.

Sean couldn’t stomach her sudden, cliff-like change. He stormed after her, grabbed her by the wrist, and dragged her into the bedroom before pushing her onto the bed.

"Sean! What do you think you’re doing?"

"I want to make a baby with you. That’s my call, Leila. You never turn me down—so be a good girl and do as you’re told!"

Sean moved in as Leila looked on in complete shock, a storm of kisses falling against her pale neck and collarbone. One strong hand locked around her waist, while the other slipped beneath the fabric of her clothes.

In that moment, Sean was something far more overwhelming than she had ever known.

Panicked, Leila shoved at him. "I said I don’t want a baby! Sean! I don’t want this!"

"It’s not up to you." Sean stopped kissing her only long enough to pin both of her wrists above her head.

Leila couldn’t move. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. The man who had been gentle with her for four years was now forcing himself on her against her will.

His kisses returned—dense, insistent, unrelenting upon her lips and neck.

When her legs were forced apart, something inside her snapped. Unable to endure it any longer, she drove her knee upward. Sean let out a sharp groan and released her.

Leila seized the moment, pushed herself up, and slapped him across the face.

SLAP

"Leila! Did you just hit me?" Furious and humiliated, Sean swung his hand back and struck her across the cheek.

Leila’s face turned red and swollen almost instantly. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

Sean’s hand began to tremble. It was the first time he had ever seen her cry—and she didn’t even make a sound.

Silence filled the room.

"Honey..." Sean curled his fingers inward, suddenly unable to meet her frightened, glassy eyes.

Leila grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around herself, then rushed out the front door, phone in hand. The moment she stepped outside, only one thought consumed her—divorce.

...

Leila stood by the roadside, her cheek still swollen and red. Her first instinct was to go back to the orphanage, but she couldn’t bear the thought of the director seeing her like this—especially since she was still recovering in the suburbs. That option was out.

In the end, she checked into a random hotel.

At the same time, a low-profile Maybach pulled up at the hotel entrance. A man in a tailored suit stepped out, his expression cold and composed.

A young girl leaned out of the car window. "Hey, Nathaniel, are you really going to stay here? Mom and Dad are just nagging you—it’s not like they’re hitting you."

He didn’t respond, simply walking into the hotel alone.

The girl shook her head and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh man, even the famous President of The Cole Group can’t escape the marriage pressure. Hahaha!"

The Maybach drove off. As the man walked into the lobby, he overheard the receptionist asking nervously at least twice, "Miss, are you sure you don’t need any help? If you do, please don’t hesitate to call the front desk, alright?"

"Thank you," came a weak, barely audible reply.

This hotel was owned by The Cole Group. Since he was already here, Nathaniel Cole made it a point to ensure no incidents occurred under his watch.

He lifted his gaze and saw a barefoot woman wrapped tightly in a blanket. Her disheveled hair clung to one side of her face, and as she drew closer, a faint red palm print on her cheek became visible.

They stepped into the same elevator, one after the other.

The woman seemed dazed—almost as if she’d lost her soul. She held a key card in her hand but didn’t scan it or press a floor button. From the side, Nathaniel could vaguely see tears falling silently, like broken strands of pearls.

After a brief pause, he asked, "Which floor are you headed to?"

Only then did she seem to snap back to reality. With trembling, pale fingers, she finally swiped her card, pressed a button, and hurriedly wiped her face. Her eyes and the tip of her nose were red. She looked fragile, cold, and utterly shattered.

As if unwilling to be seen in such a state, she forced out a polite response in her hoarse voice. "Thank you."

Nathaniel’s gaze lingered briefly on the faint red mark on her cheek, but he said nothing more.

The elevator chimed—it was Leila’s floor. She nodded to the man sidelong and stepped out.

Nathaniel watched her slender figure disappear as the elevator doors closed, then pulled out his phone and sent a text.

Leila had just sat down on the sofa when her doorbell rang. She opened the door and found the hotel manager standing outside.

"Good evening, miss. I’m bringing you some cream for your wound and a pair of comfortable slippers."

The manager smiled, and upon closer look, one could see a flicker of excitement in his eyes. He couldn’t help but add, "Please don’t worry, miss. We mean no harm—we’re just concerned about our guests. It’s our responsibility to ensure every guest feels comfortable here. Sleep well! Have a good night!"

Just moments before, the man she’d been married to for four years had slapped her. Yet here she was, receiving warmth from a complete stranger.

Leila accepted the cream and slippers and thanked the manager sincerely. At that moment, the smiling manager noticed the ring on her finger and froze.

’No way... this can’t be possible...’ he thought, walking away in shock.

Leila closed the door, dried her feet, put on the slippers, washed her hands, and carefully applied the cream to her face. Her phone buzzed nonstop—her husband kept texting.

The contact name, edited by Sean himself, read: Honey Hubby.

The messages read:

[Where are you?]

[Come back, Leila. Stop acting like a child.]

[You were the one who wanted a child, and I agreed. Quit your job at The Cole Group tomorrow and stay home to prepare for the pregnancy.]

His tone was firm and commanding. For a moment, Leila couldn’t tell whether Sean had changed or if this was who he’d always been.

She turned off her phone screen. It was the first time she had ever ignored Sean’s messages—and she ignored him the entire night. She didn’t even pick up his call when it came in the next morning.

Then another message popped up in the chat:

[Honey, my stomach hurts. I need you to make me breakfast.]

Leila tightened her grip on the phone and thought to herself, ’So now Sean realizes he needs a wife like me.’

She couldn’t help but let out a bitter smile—and ignored the message once again.

...

Meanwhile, Sean sat on the sofa, waiting. But no response came from his phone.

’Not even this got her attention?’ he thought, genuinely surprised.

Then his phone rang, and he snatched it up instantly—only to feel a flicker of disappointment when he saw the caller was Sarah. Still, he put on a gentle smile as he answered. "Hey, Sarah, what’s up?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Sean, I’m already waiting at the apartment complex. Where are you?"

Only then did Sean suddenly remember that he’d promised to drive Sarah to and from work every day. Yet all this time, he’d been sitting on the sofa waiting for Leila’s call!

But wait—had Leila really been ignoring him for this long? Well, she was just being childish and throwing a tantrum. She loved him. She couldn’t live without him.

The moment Sean pulled up by the roadside and Sarah climbed into the passenger seat, she noticed the swollen mark on his cheek. Leila had struck him with everything she had—the print stood out clearly.

"Sean, what happened?" Sarah immediately unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned in, gently cupping his face. Her eyes turned red with concern. "Who did this to you?"

Sean couldn’t stand seeing her upset. "It doesn’t hurt. Don’t worry, okay? Have you eaten breakfast yet? I’ll take you to get something."

Sarah sensed he was deliberately dodging the question, so she asked carefully, "Sean... did you and Leila argue? Was it because of me? I’m so sorry."

"It’s not because of you. I don’t know what’s gotten into her." Sean leaned over to fasten her seatbelt, then pulled away toward breakfast.

Sarah watched him in silence, noticing his attention kept drifting even while he was with her. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "The pancake is too hot. Can you help me cool it down?"

"Sure."

Sean took the plate and gently blew on it. Midway through, however, he paused. He picked up his phone and sent a message.

"Sean, who are you texting?" Sarah asked, her tone sharp with suspicion.

He turned the phone face down. "Someone important."

...

The "someone important" was Rhea Warren—the wife of Leila’s mentor.

Upon hearing that her most valued student seemed to have disappeared, Rhea came into the city personally. She called Leila, got her location, and rushed straight to the hotel.

When Leila saw her mentor’s wife, she froze instinctively and quickly lifted a hand to cover her face.

"What are you hiding from me?" Rhea said coldly as she stepped inside. "I’ve already seen it. Did Sean do this?"

Leila lowered her gaze. "Yes." And the tears began to fall.

"If he dared to hit you once," Rhea said sharply, "he’ll dare to do worse in the future." Rhea had never liked how Leila was made to serve the Sinclair family. Without asking for further details, she cut straight to the point. "What do you plan to do?"

Leila looked up and said, "I want a divorce."

A flicker of pain passed through Rhea’s eyes, but she quickly composed herself. "I’ll find you a lawyer."