### My husband, Ethan Carter, was the CEO of a publicly traded company, a man who was admired and envied by many. He traveled for work every month, like clockwork. Everyone knew him as a “wife guy,” someone who spoiled me endlessly and never missed a chance to show his love. Every time he came back from a trip, he brought me thoughtful gifts. This time, he’d been in Charleston for business and returned with a single peach blossom branch. Because he couldn’t take it on the plane, he went out of his way—lugging it onto trains and even the subway—just so he could bring a piece of Charleston’s early spring back to me. As he handed it to me, Ethan spoke softly, his voice as warm as ever. “The spring comes early down there,” he said. “I couldn’t wait to bring it back for you to see.” But just before he walked through the door, my phone buzzed. It was a text from that same unknown number that had been messaging me for weeks: “Your husband and his little assistant took their romantic getaway to Charleston this month.” Attached was a photo: Ethan and his secretary, Emma, locked in a passionate kiss beneath a canopy of pink blossoms. I stared at the picture, my stomach twisting. When Ethan turned away to take a shower, I set the peach blossom branch in the most unnoticeable corner of the room. My hand brushed against my slightly rounded belly as I picked up the phone and made a call I hadn’t dared to make in three years. “Dad,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’ve made a mistake. I’m leaving Ethan.” They say a marriage without your parents’ blessing is doomed from the start. Three years ago, I walked down the aisle against their wishes, thinking love was enough. Now, it was clear: that wedding had been a mistake. It was time to cut my losses and walk away.
“Honey, can you send a file to Jack for me? It’s on my phone,” Ethan said. “Sure,” I replied casually. Hearing my response, Ethan turned on the shower, humming as the water began to run. His phone was sitting on the table, unlocked, as it always was. Ethan never hid anything from me—he’d even joked about handing over his phone if I ever wanted to check it. I entered the passcode, my birthday, and the lock screen opened. After sending the file, my eyes fell on the name “Emma” in his message list. The chat history was clean—just work-related texts. Ethan was meticulous like that. He’d never leave anything incriminating behind. But curiosity got the better of me. I tapped on Emma’s profile and opened her social media. Her latest post stopped me cold. It was a photo of two hands intertwined beneath a canopy of pink blossoms. The caption read: “I told him I loved peach blossoms, so he brought me all the way to Charleston.” The post was clearly hidden from both her coworkers and me, but one mutual friend had commented underneath: “Is it your mysterious, handsome, rich boyfriend again?” Emma’s reply was a simple “Yes.” Two weeks ago, I’d started receiving anonymous texts from an unfamiliar number. The first one read: “Your husband, the man who swears he loves you more than anything, is cheating on you.” Since then, every day, I’d received more and more “evidence.” Photos, locations, details—everything pointed to Ethan and Emma. Apparently, Ethan’s monthly “business trips” were just elaborate vacations with her. They’d watched sunsets on beaches, kissed under the Northern Lights, and held each other in snow-covered forests. I’d even had the photos verified by a professional. They weren’t fake. Ethan. Emma. And me. We’d all been high school classmates, though I’d barely known Emma back then. When Ethan told me a few months ago that Emma had applied to be his assistant, I’d thought nothing of it. In fact, I encouraged him to hire her—after all, it was nice to help an old classmate. Who could’ve known I was hiring my own replacement? Scrolling further through Emma’s social media, I found more posts. Every month, there were photos of trips to different cities, each captioned with romantic lines: “A life well-lived is half mountains and seas, half you.” “The sun is setting, and we’re falling in love.” “Going to beautiful places with the person I love most.” Every destination matched Ethan’s business trips. Every caption matched the anonymous texts. Some of the photos showed a man’s silhouette—his face deliberately cropped out. But I didn’t need to see his face. I knew that figure. I’d recognize Ethan anywhere. There were other photos, too: jewelry, designer bags, luxury items. The gifts Ethan had brought home to me? She had them too. Three years of marriage. Three years of meticulous care, of devotion that everyone envied. The perfect husband, they said. And yet here he was, betraying me. As memories of our life together flashed through my mind—his sweet words, his warm embraces—they all turned into jagged shards, stabbing into my heart. I felt the baby move inside me, and I instinctively rested a hand on my belly. “I’m sorry,” I whispered softly. The next moment, I felt warm arms wrap tightly around me. Ethan was back, holding me close from behind, his head resting in the crook of my neck. “What are you saying to our baby, huh?” he murmured. “I missed you so much while I was away.” I didn’t respond. The thought of him whispering the same words to her just days ago made my stomach churn. “What’s wrong?” he asked, gently turning me to face him. His eyes were full of concern as he noticed my red, swollen eyes. I shook my head and waved a hand in front of my face, trying to explain it away. “It’s nothing. Pregnancy hormones. I’ve just been emotional lately.” Ethan knelt in front of me, his hand resting on my belly. “Hey, little one,” he said softly, his eyes lighting up. “Your mom is working so hard for you, so you better behave in there, okay? No causing trouble.” He pressed his ear against my belly as if listening for a response, then looked up at me with a grin. “Babe, our baby just told me they understand.” His joy, his tenderness—it was all so convincing. How could he love me like this and still hold someone else’s hand under a canopy of blossoms? I gave him a weak smile, and he stood, brushing his thumb across my lips. “You know,” he said, his voice low and husky, “the doctor said we’re past the three-month mark now, so…” He leaned in to kiss me, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I bolted for the bathroom and threw up violently, the nausea overwhelming me. Behind me, Ethan followed, his hand rubbing circles on my back, his voice full of concern. “Babe, this pregnancy is really taking it out of you. Let’s make this the last one, okay? No more after this.” He thought it was just morning sickness. He had no idea that I wouldn’t be having this baby either.
“You’re terminating the pregnancy?” The doctor froze mid-exam, looking at me in disbelief. Outside the room, Ethan stood by the window, scrolling through his phone, a soft, tender smile spreading across his face. That smile—so familiar, yet so foreign—made my chest ache and my stomach churn. “Yes,” I said firmly, breaking my gaze away and turning back to the doctor. “You’re sure? Does your husband know?” she asked cautiously. “I’ve seen him come with you to every appointment. He seems so excited about this baby, even with how busy he must be. Running a company like his can’t be easy.” Ethan Carter—self-made billionaire, founder of a multi-million-dollar tech company at just 30 years old. His face was a regular feature on business channels, and even the doctor had heard of him. He had his share of admirers, women who swooned over his looks, wealth, and the fact that he was madly in love with his wife. “This is my decision,” I said, my tone unyielding. “Please don’t tell him.” The doctor sighed, hesitant, before launching into a string of reasons why I should reconsider. I didn’t hear a word of it. A failed marriage. A child born into a loveless home. Why bring someone into the world only to suffer? Better to give them a chance with a different set of parents. It was Ethan’s day off, and he’d woken up early, thinking I was still asleep. He tiptoed into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise. But pregnancy had made me a light sleeper, and I lay there, staring at the ceiling as the faint light of dawn crept in. I could hear him tinkering in the kitchen for nearly half an hour. When he finally came back into the bedroom, I quickly shut my eyes. “Time to get up, sleepyhead,” he whispered as he gently pinched my cheek. I opened my eyes to see him standing there, wearing an apron and grinning like he’d just conquered the world. Ethan had started taking cooking classes after I got pregnant—something about making sure I ate well. Since marrying him, I hadn’t stepped foot in the kitchen. He even left work early every day just to cook dinner for me, much to the delight of his employees, who joked that their boss was a “top-tier wife guy.” “Your husband’s cooking hasn’t gotten rusty, has it? I made all your favorites,” he said proudly, gesturing to the table. But before I could even respond, his phone buzzed on the counter. He grabbed it quickly, but not quickly enough. I saw the name flash across the screen: Emma. Ethan’s cheerful demeanor shifted in an instant. He answered the call, his voice calm but serious. “I understand. I’ll be there soon.” Hanging up, he turned to me with an apologetic expression. “Something urgent came up at work. I’m really sorry, but I have to go. Please make sure you eat breakfast, okay? Take a short walk after—it’s good for you and the baby. I probably won’t make it back for lunch, but I’ll have a meal delivered for you. Call me if you need anything. Oh, and don’t forget, we have the high school reunion tonight. I’ll come home to pick you up.” Ah, the reunion. I’d almost forgotten. Before leaving, Ethan walked over to me, smoothing the crease between my brows with his thumb. He kissed my forehead softly, whispering, “Don’t be upset, alright?” You see, his performance was flawless. Not a single crack showed as he smoothed his words over me like silk. Even as he prepared to run into another woman’s arms, he didn’t falter. The door closed behind him, and the sound of it felt like a cue for my tears to fall. I stared at the breakfast he’d made, the food now tasteless in my mouth. My stomach turned, and I scraped it all into the trash. When something no longer tastes good, you throw it away. Forcing it down only makes you sick. People are no different. That evening, Ethan came home to pick me up for the reunion. He knelt down in front of me to help me put on my socks and shoes, as he always did. From this angle, I could see the collar of his shirt—and the faint marks peeking out from underneath. Those weren’t there this morning. Ethan didn’t open the front passenger door for me like usual. Instead, he guided me to the backseat. That’s when I saw her. Emma was sitting in the passenger seat, her lips curling into a polite, almost saccharine smile as I hesitated. Ethan cleared his throat awkwardly. “Emma’s going to the reunion too. I figured it made sense for the three of us to go together.” “She gets carsick,” he added, almost too quickly. “The front seat is better for her.” Emma turned toward me, her head tilting slightly, her voice soft and sweet as honey. “You don’t mind, do you, Jane? You’re so far along now—it’s probably more comfortable for you to sit in the back anyway.” The blue diamond necklace she wore caught the light, sparkling brightly. It was identical to the one around my neck. I said nothing, just nodded and climbed into the backseat. As we drove, I listened to their laughter, their easy banter. My head began to pound, the ache growing worse with every mile. I reached up and unclasped the necklace, slipping it into my purse. I didn’t need it anymore.
“Well, well, look who’s here!” “If it isn’t the golden couple from our class reunion!” The moment Ethan walked in with my hand in his, the room erupted in cheers and playful teasing. Back in high school, Ethan’s pursuit of me had been nothing short of legendary. Everyone, even the teachers, knew about it. But since we were both straight-A students, they turned a blind eye to his over-the-top efforts. Ethan had even changed his college plans to follow me, chasing me all the way to university. By freshman year, he’d started a business from scratch, determined to be “worthy” of me. His persistence became the stuff of school lore. By the time we were about to graduate, I finally gave in. I let myself be swept away by his devotion. I still remember the night I said yes—how he cried so hard he couldn’t even speak, swearing over and over: “Jane, I’ll love you and only you for the rest of my life.” Inside the reunion, three empty seats were waiting for us. Ethan sat between me and Emma, his assistant. He frowned slightly before turning to me, his voice soft and almost apologetic. “Jane, can we switch seats?” That simple gesture earned yet another round of teasing from our old classmates. “Look at Ethan, such a gentleman! Doesn’t even want to sit next to a single woman!” “Jane, what kind of spell did you cast on him? He’s still head over heels after all these years!” “Seriously, you two make the rest of us look bad. Every time I see your posts on social media, I swear my teeth hurt from how sweet you guys are!” Ethan laughed along, pulling me closer as he smiled and said, “What can I say? I just love my wife.” Then he looked at me with the kind of gaze that made everyone else swoon—a gaze full of warmth and tenderness. Everyone believed Ethan adored me. But I knew better. His love, like the gifts he showered me with, had long since been divided into two equal shares. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Emma’s forced smile. Her lips twitched upward, but the way she looked at Ethan—her eyes filled with longing and frustration—gave her away. “Emma’s boyfriend must be treating her well too,” someone chimed in, nodding toward the massive diamond necklace around her neck. “Look at that rock—he must have some serious cash.” Emma touched the necklace, her fingers lingering on the jewel as her eyes flicked to me. “He treats me very well,” she said, her voice tight but filled with pride. “Every month, he takes me somewhere special. Buys me so many things I can barely keep up. Just last month, I mentioned wanting to retire in Florida one day, and he went ahead and bought a house there. Oh, and this necklace? It’s a limited edition—only ten in the world.” Only ten in the world. Eight million dollars each. Ethan had bought two. “Wow, sounds like your boyfriend could give Ethan a run for his money,” someone joked. “When are you bringing him to meet us?” Emma smiled sweetly, her gaze softening as it landed on Ethan. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll all meet him one day.” Ethan didn’t look at her. Instead, he picked up some food and placed it on my plate. Halfway through dinner, Ethan excused himself to take a phone call. Not long after, Emma slipped out too, saying she needed to use the restroom. I waited a moment, then followed. By the time I reached the stairwell, I heard their voices. Emma had her hands draped around Ethan’s neck, her voice laced with a mix of frustration and desperation. “You’re not going to just ghost me, are you? Ethan, it’s been two years. Don’t you dare act like I don’t mean anything to you.” Ethan’s tone was calm but firm, his expression unreadable. “As long as you don’t mess with Jane, as long as you stay quiet and keep your place, I’ll take care of you. You know that. But if she finds out…” His voice dropped, cold and threatening. “If she leaves me, I’ll lose it.” Emma’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but then her lips curled into a small smile. “Fine. Then I’ve got some good news for you: I’m pregnant.” My heart froze. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me. Ethan’s expression flickered—shock, then calculation. He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he reached out to lift her chin. “You’re pregnant? And yet here you are, throwing yourself at me. Aren’t you worried about losing the baby?” Emma bit her lip, her cheeks flushing as she pressed herself closer to him. “I can’t help it. I see you, and I just…” She trailed off, her voice soft and breathy as she leaned into him. Ethan chuckled, his hand moving to the back of her head as he pulled her in. Under the dim stairwell light, they kissed like no one else existed. I stood frozen in place, my back pressed against the wall, my entire body trembling. My phone buzzed in my pocket, snapping me out of my daze. It was a text from my doctor. “Your appointment is scheduled for Saturday.”
Saturday morning. I handed two documents to Ethan, placing them on the table in front of him. “These are two insurance policies I got for the baby. They need both parents’ signatures.” Ethan took my hand, his signature smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The baby isn’t even born yet, and you’re already getting insurance?” “A friend recommended it. I thought it was a good idea,” I replied with a soft smile. Ethan stared at me for a moment, almost mesmerized. “Jane, you’re so beautiful when you smile. You should smile like this more often.” As he picked up the documents, ready to read them over, I panicked and stopped him. “I’ve already read through them. They’re fine. No need to double-check,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. He ruffled my hair affectionately. “Oh, come on. Let me take a quick look. What if you missed something and got scammed?” My heart raced as his hand moved toward the papers. Just then, his phone buzzed on the table. I was close enough to hear the voice on the other end—it was Emma. Ethan answered the call and walked out onto the balcony, his tone low and familiar. A few minutes later, he came back, his expression tight. “Something came up at work. I need to go deal with it,” he said, grabbing a pen and signing the documents without another glance. “Ethan!” I called out as he was about to leave. He paused in the doorway, turning back toward me. “Yeah?” “Do you remember what you said on our wedding day?” His brow furrowed slightly before his features softened. “If I ever betrayed you, you’d leave me without a second thought,” he recited, word for word. “That’s right,” I said with a small smile. Ethan crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe, his expression full of confidence. “What, are you testing me? Don’t worry—I’ve got every word burned into my heart.” I watched as he turned back to the door, his hand lingering on the doorknob for a few seconds before he hesitated. Then, he walked back to me and wrapped his arms around me tightly. “I don’t know why, but I feel uneasy today,” he murmured against my ear. “I’ve told you before—I’ll love you and only you for the rest of my life. Don’t forget that, okay? Wait for me to come home.” I nodded silently, and only then did he seem reassured enough to leave. When I heard the sound of his car engine fading into the distance, I opened the documents on the table. The bold title at the top read: Divorce Agreement. For a moment, I just stared at the words, lost in thought. Ten years. From high school sweethearts to now, our story had stretched across a decade. But this was where it ended. I packed up my belongings, called a courier to take them away, and donated everything Ethan had ever given me—including the baby items he’d bought. After learning I was pregnant, Ethan had been over the moon. He’d dragged me to baby stores every chance he got, buying everything we could possibly need from birth through toddlerhood. “You’ve bought way too much,” I’d scolded him once, laughing. He waved me off with a grin. “So what? If I can’t spoil my own kid, who else am I going to spoil?” Back then, we had both been so excited for this baby—the perfect symbol of our love. Now, all of it was gone. I left a copy of the signed divorce papers on the couch, grabbed my bag, and walked out the door. On my way to the clinic, my phone buzzed again. It was the same unknown number that had been messaging me for weeks. “Who do you think Ethan loves more—you or the other woman?” Attached was a photo. Ethan was at a doctor’s appointment with Emma. The way he looked at her—soft, caring—was identical to how he used to look at me. Maybe Ethan didn’t even realize it himself, but the scales in his heart had already tipped in her favor. I typed out a reply: “Ethan and I are divorced. The baby will be gone too. Stop sending me these messages. I wish you and him a long, happy life together.” After hitting send, I blocked the number. I’d known from the very first message that it was Emma. No one else would fight so hard to drag their love out of the shadows and into the light. On the day of the procedure, as I was being wheeled into the operating room, I received a text from my dad. He and my mom were waiting to take me home afterward. Just as I was about to enter the room, I saw them. Ethan and Emma were walking out of another doctor’s office down the hall, hand in hand. Our eyes met. Ethan froze, his hand slipping free from Emma’s as panic swept over his face. “Jane!” he shouted, pushing through the crowd toward me.
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