Chapter 6: The Fallout

My girlfriend’s advisor is Robert Carter. I’d met him two or three times.

He’s in his fifties, but stands tall, looks polished—definitely not your typical sleaze on the outside.

I’d heard Robert Carter and his wife were supposedly a loving couple, with two daughters.

I’d even looked up his resume before.

The creep really does have credentials—he’s won awards in the U.S. and abroad, highly respected in his field.

Happy family, successful career, adored by students.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing, that’s what he is.

Damn it.

If I don’t expose this hypocrite and ruin him, I’ll never be able to let this go.

My girlfriend usually got home around seven or eight, but that day, she came back early.

The moment she walked in, she asked if I’d seen her iPad.

I played dumb and helped her look. In the end, we “found” it under the shoe bench.

She snatched it up.

"As long as it’s at home. I thought I lost it outside."

Then she took the iPad into the bedroom.

I watched her coldly, saying nothing.

So eager to get home, just to delete her chat history with that creep.

After she came out of the bedroom, she looked visibly relieved.

That night, Robert Carter even called her.

She answered right in front of me, totally calm.

"Professor Carter, I’m at home, what’s up?"

"No, I’m not tired."

"Okay, I’ll come to your office tomorrow morning when I get to campus."

After hanging up, she told me, like nothing was wrong, "I spent the afternoon helping my advisor organize materials, and he wants me to help again tomorrow. Sigh, grad students are just their advisors’ gofers."

Then she started bossing me around. "Honey, I couldn’t say it in front of my professor, but my arms, legs, and knees are killing me—come give me a massage."

I almost couldn’t stop myself from cursing out loud.

Why do you hurt? How can you shamelessly order me around?

Massage yourself, damn it.

I made an excuse to go to the bathroom.

If it were before, I’d have believed every word she said.

But now I knew: those two were playing with fire right under my nose.

Fine, you want to play? I’ll play to the end.

I used to jump up to rub her shoulders, desperate to make her happy. Now, every touch felt like a lie. I stood in the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink, trying to keep my hands steady. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead. I stared at my reflection, wondering how I could have missed all the signs. This wasn’t just betrayal—it was humiliation, and I was done being the fool.