Visiting My Ex-Wife’s House After 5 Years of Divorce, I Saw Her Photo Hanging Above the Bed, and I Immediately Did Something Against a Man’s Morality and Conscience

Yesterday it rained. On my way home from work, I happened to see my ex-wife standing at the bus stop, so I offered to drive her home.

I first met my ex-wife back in high school. After the university entrance exams, I got into a university in the North, while she studied at a university in the South. Because of the long distance, we gradually lost touch during those four years, only exchanging a few messages now and then.

After graduation, both of us returned to our hometown to work. Coincidentally, her company and mine were in the same building, just on different floors. That’s how we kept running into each other. Over time, feelings blossomed, and without realizing it, we went from being friends to lovers.

After two years of dating, we decided to get married. At that time, everyone admired us, saying we were a beautiful and happy couple.

Our married life was indeed peaceful and full of love. However, three years went by without us having a child. My family began to worry. My mother advised us to get checked. The results left us devastated—my wife could not have children.

Although my mother was kind and even suggested we adopt, my wife could not overcome her feelings of shame. She lived with guilt, constantly thinking she had let me and my family down. In the end, she insisted on a divorce, ending our three-year marriage simply because she felt unworthy of me.

I was heartbroken but respected her decision. After the divorce, I buried myself in work. Time flew by—five years passed in the blink of an eye. I now had a stable job, a small house, and a life that, to outsiders, looked complete.

Until yesterday, when a heavy rainy day changed everything.

On my way home, it suddenly poured. As I stopped at a red light near a bus stop, I noticed a familiar figure sheltering under the roof. My heart clenched—it was my ex-wife, the woman I once loved more than anything.

Without thinking, I pulled over, got out, and called her name. She looked surprised, then gave a faint smile and awkwardly stepped into my car. I drove her home. But when we arrived, I was stunned.

She was living in a run-down old apartment block, probably over 20 years old, with peeling walls and dark stairways. Her flat was damp and gloomy, with broken windows patched up by wooden boards. My heart tightened at the sight of her hardship.

But what brought tears to my eyes was when I entered her bedroom and saw our wedding photo from years ago hanging above her bed. I had thought she must have thrown it away long ago. Yet for five years, she had kept it in the most honored place.

I asked her:

– “Why do you still keep this photo?”

She only gave a sad smile:

– “Not because I’m still hoping… just that I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.”

On the way home, my heart was in turmoil. How had she been living all these years? Why was she struggling alone like this? I began to think about remarriage—not out of responsibility, not out of pity, but because I realized my feelings for her had never truly faded.

I want her to have a better life. I want to take care of her for the rest of my days. Even without children, even if we face gossip and criticism, I no longer care.