I was working late at the office when I got a call from the hospital in the middle of the night. They said my wife, Serena Hayes, had suffered an ovarian rupture and that I needed to come in to sign the consent forms. Standing in the brightly lit office, I was completely dumbfounded. Content “What kind of husband are you? Do you even know how dangerous an ovarian rupture is? If she hadn’t been brought in so quickly, she could’ve died!” The moment I rushed into the hospital, the doctor lashed out at me. He scolded me for being careless, for apparently being too rough during intimacy and not considering my wife’s wellbeing. I glanced down at the report in my hands. The words “ovarian rupture” practically screamed at me from the page. I was completely stunned. With the year-end approaching, my company was swamped. I had been working endless overtime, leaving early in the morning and returning late at night, even sleeping at the office on some nights. “How…how does this happen?” My voice cracked as I hesitated to ask. The doctor rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “You really don’t know? Rough intimacy can cause it. Your wife is hemorrhaging and is still in surgery. She came here by herself, for crying out loud! You didn’t even accompany her! Here’s the bill. Go pay it.” Without waiting for my response, he shoved the payment slip into my hand. Standing at the payment kiosk, I pulled out my phone to look up the causes of ovarian rupture. Moments later, my face flushed red with anger. Serena and I had been married for three years. Back in college, she was the sweetheart of our class, the type of girl every guy wanted to date. It took me ages to win her over, but I finally did when we graduated. Shortly after we started dating, she got pregnant, and we decided to get married. But she had a miscarriage not long after. For the next three years, every time I tried to get close to her, she’d push me away. She said thinking about the baby we lost made her feel guilty, like she didn’t deserve happiness. I respected her wishes. Every time, I’d quietly go to the bathroom to take care of myself. I never let her cook or clean, and I handed over my entire paycheck every month. When she said she didn’t know how to cook, I asked my mom to move to the city and cook for her every day. I worked myself to the bone to make sure she could live comfortably. Finally, I managed to buy us a small two-bedroom house. The car and house? Both in her name. And yet, here I was, paying for the medical bills caused by her cheating. Grinding my teeth, I paid the fees. By early morning, Serena had been moved to a private room after surgery. She was hooked up to an IV, pale and unconscious on the hospital bed. She was undeniably beautiful. Even without makeup, her skin was smooth and flawless, the kind of beauty that seemed innocent and approachable. Marrying her had always felt like the greatest blessing of my life. I’d spoiled her in every way possible. But now, looking at her lying there, she felt like a stranger to me. The thought of me breaking my back working overtime while she was off with another man—enough to land her in the hospital—made my blood boil. After calming myself down, I picked up her handbag and pulled out her phone. Ridiculous—she’d never even shared her password with me. Using her fingerprint, I unlocked it and scrolled through her WhatsApp, contacts, and messages, but there was nothing suspicious. Just as I was about to give up, a notification popped up on her Instagram DM. “Home yet, babe? You were incredible tonight!”
Seeing the message, I glanced back at Serena. Even in her pale, frail state, I felt not an ounce of pity for her. I quickly opened the chat. The profile picture was a cartoon character, giving me no clues about the man’s identity. The chat history only showed today’s messages, clearly wiped clean before. I typed a simple reply: “I’m home.” “Exhausted, huh? Still hurting? I’ll be more gentle next time,” came the response. My hand trembled as I gripped her phone. Grinding my teeth, I deleted the messages and returned her phone to her bag. Sitting beside her, I replayed the years we’d spent together. She’d always avoided intimacy. She’d never acknowledged me publicly on her social media. Whenever I asked about it, she’d dismissively say, “We’re adults. Why does it even matter?” I’d naively believed she was just a private person. Now I realized, the bike I’d been so careful with all these years—someone else had been riding it rough all along. “Cal…why am I here?” Her voice, soft and weak, broke the silence. It sent a wave of disgust through me. Serena groggily sat up, her pale face filled with confusion. “What’s going on? Why am I in the hospital?” As she adjusted herself, her neckline slipped, revealing faint hickeys on her chest. She was still wearing the red bodycon dress I’d bought her. “You really don’t know why you’re here?” I asked coldly. Serena froze for a second, then let out a small, mocking smile. “Hmm, and what about it?” “We’re getting a divorce.” Her expression twisted, caught between shock and anger. “Seriously? Over this? You’re never around, Cal. I have to deal with everything on my own—my bad days, my loneliness, my sadness. You practically live at your office. What am I supposed to do? Pretend I’m not human?” She started crying, playing the victim like it was second nature. I’d studied enough psychology to know what she was doing: framing herself as the wounded party, justifying her infidelity. But for the first time, I saw through it all. Years of hard work, devotion, and sacrifice—none of it meant anything to her. In her eyes, I was nothing more than a fool who handed her everything on a silver platter. “My company’s just getting off the ground. If I’d been home all the time, where would the money for the house and car have come from? Serena, you don’t work. You don’t clean. You don’t cook. You get thousands in pocket money every month, on top of every comfort imaginable. And yet, you cheated on me so badly you ended up in the hospital. Do you even have any shame?” My voice rose as I spoke, startling even myself. Serena looked at me, stunned for a moment, but quickly recovered, dabbing her tears like a seasoned actress. “Money can’t buy everything. Money doesn’t replace love or companionship, Cal. Do you know how hard it is to be a woman, to feel ignored by her own husband?” “You can keep the house, the car, and the money. But you can’t keep me. We’re done, Serena.” For the first time, I walked out on her. I’d recorded our conversation and taken screenshots of her messages. I was finally ready to end this. When I got home, the place was a disaster. Takeout containers piled up, clothes strewn everywhere. My mom had been staying with us, taking care of Serena, but had recently left to visit family. Without her, the house had become a pigsty. I sat down on the couch, exhausted and furious. What was the point of all my sacrifices? My anger boiled over. I texted Serena, telling her to be ready to finalize the divorce as soon as she was discharged. When I placed the divorce agreement on the coffee table, Serena Hayes stared at me in disbelief. Her shock quickly morphed into anger. “All this over cheating? Seriously? You’re really going to divorce me for this? Let’s be real—do you honestly think you’ll find someone like me again? Someone at my level?” She launched into a tirade, her words buzzing in my ears like a swarm of flies. I stared her down and said firmly, “Sign it.” “Ha! Who do you think you are, yelling at me? You think I actually wanted to marry you? Fine, divorce it is. Don’t act like I can’t live without you. Take a good look at yourself!” Fuming, she ripped the agreement to shreds, stormed toward the door, and turned to hurl one final insult. “Calvin Morris, mark my words. Don’t come crying to me when you regret this. I’ll never take you back!” With a loud slam, she was gone. I laughed bitterly, staring at the torn-up papers on the floor, my heart feeling just as shredded. I’d spoiled her rotten, and it had come to this. I had given her all of my love. It was only fair I could take it all back.
Serena hadn’t been gone long when a storm rolled in, lightning flashing and rain pouring down in sheets. I couldn’t help but think about how she’d left without an umbrella. If she got caught in this rain so soon after surgery, her body wouldn’t handle it. Against my better judgment, I picked up the phone to call her, intending to tell her to come back and wait out the storm. But when the call connected, a man’s voice answered instead, breathless and full of urgency. “Babe, what did that pathetic cuckold say?” Serena’s laughter rang out, bright and carefree. She exchanged a few playful quips with him before speaking into the phone. “Why are you calling me, Cal?” “Serena, who is that guy? Is he the one who landed you in the hospital?” I growled through clenched teeth. She burst out laughing. “Oh, Cal, you’re too much! This whole divorce thing is just your way of trying to get my attention, isn’t it? Hoping I’ll care more about you? So insecure. You can’t be here for me, and now you don’t want anyone else to be either?” A sudden crack of thunder outside jolted me. The sound snapped me out of my haze, and I finally saw things clearly. What was I doing? Why was I letting this woman humiliate me over and over? Would I really die without her? Grinding my teeth, I hissed, “Serena, the divorce agreement will be sent to you as a document. I expect you to sign it.” Before she could respond, I hung up. Hearing her voice even one more second made my stomach churn. The house, the car—all of it was in her name. By law, it was marital property, meaning she was entitled to half of everything, including my savings. But given her infidelity, I had grounds to push for her to leave with nothing. With that resolve, I began compiling evidence of her affair, gathering screenshots and call logs before handing everything over to my lawyer. A legal notice was promptly sent to her. Having dealt with the mess, I threw myself back into work, hoping to drown my frustration in productivity. After a long meeting, I returned to my office and froze in my tracks. Serena was sitting on the couch, waiting for me. She was dressed to the nines, her makeup flawless, and her every move radiated calculated charm. But instead of feeling drawn to her, I felt nothing but disgust. “Cal, I went home and found the locks changed. What are you doing? You’re being so childish! Look, I forgive you for threatening divorce. Let’s move past this, okay? We’ve been married for years. Deep down, you don’t want to let me go. Even if my heart isn’t entirely yours, my body is. Isn’t that enough?” She flung her arms around me, feigning affection. “C’mon, let’s stop fighting. You already have me, isn’t that what matters? Drop the lawyer nonsense, and while you’re at it, go clean the house, turn in your paycheck, and don’t expect any allowance this month.” The casual way she said it, like nothing had happened, made my blood boil. I shoved her off me, shouting, “This divorce is happening, Serena. No more games.” Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms with a smirk. “Don’t push your luck, Cal. I’m giving you a chance to save face. If you leave me, don’t come crying later when you’re miserable and lonely.” I laughed bitterly. The sheer audacity was laughable now. This was no different from the entitled “princess” mentality I’d seen online. “Stop pretending, Serena. You don’t want a divorce. Everything—the house, the car—is in your name. You think you can walk away without consequence? Dream on.” She raised a manicured hand, examining her nails nonchalantly. “Fine, I’ll give you one more chance. Buy me the latest designer handbag, grovel a little, and I might forgive you. But you’d better make it count, or you’ll regret it when you come begging me later.”
Her words were so absurd I couldn’t help but stare in disbelief. I knew she was spoiled, but this level of entitlement was staggering. Still, I had no interest in arguing with her further—especially not at work. I had actual responsibilities to deal with. I pointed to the door. “I don’t want your ‘chances.’ Leave now. We’ll finalize this on Monday at the courthouse.” She scoffed, her heels clicking as she headed for the door. “Fine, be stubborn. I know you’ll miss me. You’ve got until Monday to win me back, but don’t show up without the bag. Think it over.” With that, she stormed out of my office. I immediately informed my team that she was no longer allowed on company premises. When I loved her, she was everything to me. Now that I didn’t, she was nothing. Love? I’d finally learned: loving yourself and your family is what truly matters. This was just a minor setback in the grand scheme of things. I’d use it to push myself harder. Monday came quickly. I arrived at the County Courthouse early, waiting for Serena. The light rain falling from the sky was a bittersweet reminder of my wedding day. Back then, I’d been so thrilled I couldn’t sleep the night before. Now, that excitement felt like a distant memory. Serena arrived late, stepping out of a flashy red Luxury Porsche with a smug grin and a brand-new Chanel handbag in hand. To make matters worse, she was accompanied by a short, unimpressive man. They were giggling and holding hands like love-struck teenagers. Walking over to me, she made a point of kissing him on the lips before addressing me. “Why so impatient, Cal? We got a little carried away last night. But hey, I’m here now. Don’t be such a nag.” As she adjusted her hair, she made sure I noticed the hickeys on her neck. The sheer disrespect made my blood boil. Forcing a deep breath, I pulled out the divorce agreement and handed it to her. “Take a look. If it’s all good, sign it.” “You’re really serious about this?” Her eyes widened as she stared at me. I nodded, keeping my tone casual. “I don’t keep secondhand trash. With my qualifications, I can do better than wasting time on someone like you.” Her face turned crimson with rage. “How dare you talk to me like that! You wouldn’t be where you are today without me. I’m a blessing to any man I’m with. Fine, divorce it is. Don’t come crying to me later.” She skimmed the document, then let out an ear-piercing shriek. “What’s this? You expect me to leave with nothing AND pay you $20,000? You’ve got to be kidding me!” “The car and house were bought with my money. You didn’t contribute a single cent. And by the way, you’ve transferred over $20,000 to someone named Dominic Bellamy. Let me guess—it’s him, right? Here are the bank records to prove it. What kind of person takes my money and spends it on another man?” Serena smirked but before she could respond, Dominic pulled her closer with a smug grin. “Babe, we don’t need his filthy money. Who cares about the car and house? I’ll buy you new ones.” “Did you hear that?” Serena turned to me, her tone dripping with condescension. “My man is richer than you ever were.” I smiled faintly. “You know you’re in the wrong here, don’t you? I have all the evidence of your affair. Even if you don’t agree to my terms, what can you do? I could easily release all your little messages for the world to see.” “You wouldn’t dare!” Serena snapped.
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