Everyone in Manhattan society knows Grant Tyler adores me. The icy aristocrat makes a grueling annual pilgrimage to a frozen Himalayan peak just to pray for my health. I thought I was the luckiest woman alive. Then I saw Ruby’s video. My best friend stood on a snowy trail, giggling about a five-year-old hike where she and her lover got carried away. A man’s hand reached in, adjusting her scarf with practiced tenderness. On his wrist was the crimson prayer cord I had braided for Grant with my own hands. Blood turned to ice in my heated living room. Moments later, my doctor walked in. She told me I was two months pregnant. Tears already streaming, I looked up dazed. Please, I choked out, help me schedule an abortion immediately. 1 The doctor froze, her eyes widening in shock. “Hazel, are you absolutely sure?” she asked gently. “Mr. Tyler loves you so much. And given your medical history, this pregnancy is an absolute miracle.” She was trying to talk me out of it. After all, the entire city knew the lore of our romance. Grant once took nineteen stab wounds to protect me from an attacker. When I was critically ill, he abandoned a billion-dollar merger and flew to the Himalayas, kneeling on the jagged rocks with every step he took, begging for my life. His love was a grand, theatrical spectacle that made everyone envious. But sitting there in the clinic, I could not even string a complete sentence together. My throat felt like it was packed with broken glass. My heart hurt so badly I could barely keep myself upright. Seeing my completely devastated state, the doctor finally stopped pushing. She let out a heavy sigh. “I will go make the arrangements.” Once the door clicked shut, I tapped the screen to replay that video. My fingers were shaking so violently I could hardly hold the phone. I opened the comment section. Someone had asked, “How old is your little boy? He is adorable!” Ruby had replied almost immediately. “He just turned five!” I stared at that number. A deafening ringing filled my ears. Five years ago, I was in a horrific car accident. The doctors issued multiple critical condition notices. I was not supposed to make it. Grant, a man of absolute pride and logic, lost his mind. He rushed to the mountains, his palms cracking from the frostbite, his forehead bleeding from kneeling on the ice, praying for me to survive. Eventually, I woke up. Everyone said Grant’s absolute devotion had moved the heavens. I believed them. But the truth was, while he was kneeling in the freezing snow supposedly praying for my life, he was tumbling into the sheets with my best friend. They even made a child out of it. The agonizing pain in my chest threatened to swallow me whole. As my phone screen dimmed, a message notification from Ruby popped up. The last text she sent me was from last night. “Hazel, I am so jealous of you. Grant is such a gentleman. He always looks so restrained and gentle.” “Unlike my husband. I don’t know what has gotten into him lately.” “He goes completely wild every night. He leaves my legs shaking and my back aching, and he absolutely refuses to stop when I beg him.” “I feel like he is going to break me in half.” She followed it up with a few blushing, giggling emojis. Reading those words now made my stomach churn violently. The mysterious husband she had been bragging about was Grant. I gripped the phone tightly, black spots dancing in my vision. In all our years of marriage, Grant was always overly cautious in bed. He was restrained to the point of being entirely vanilla. Once, I bought a very sheer, daring lingerie set. I clumsily practiced some poses I saw online. That night, blushing furiously, I wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered that he could be a little rougher with me. Grant simply frowned and gently pulled my hands away. “Hazel, your health is too fragile,” he murmured. “I am terrified of hurting you.” I used to think that was ultimate cherishing. I thought he loved me too much to lose control. But I was completely wrong. He took all of his loss of control, all his rough passion, and all his heavy breathing. He gave every bit of it to Ruby. A hollow laugh escaped my lips. I laughed until thick tears splattered against my phone screen. A few minutes later, the doctor returned. “Hazel, the surgery is scheduled. Three days from now, at nine in the morning.” 2 After leaving the clinic, my assistant texted to remind me about a charity gala being hosted in my name that evening. I rushed to the venue. As I walked past the VIP lounges, a familiar voice drifted into the hallway. A group of men were laughing and teasing someone. “Grant, how did you finally bear to bring Ruby back to the city?” one of them joked. “Aren’t you worried Hazel will find out?” My feet glued themselves to the plush carpet. I peered through the slight crack in the door. Grant had his arm wrapped casually around Ruby’s shoulders. He chuckled. “Hazel would never in her wildest dreams imagine me stepping out on her.” Another friend leaned forward. “So what exactly is the deal with you and Ruby? The kid is already five. You can’t just keep her hidden in the shadows forever.” Ruby lowered her head, her eyes rimmed with red. Grant glanced at her, his voice softening entirely. “That is why I am planning a private wedding for Ruby.” Ruby’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, looking like a woman who had suffered in silence for years. Grant reached out and gently held her hand. “I already gave Hazel the public title. Everyone in high society knows she is Mrs. Tyler.” “But the actual wedding ceremony, and the real marriage certificate, I am giving to Ruby.” Ruby leaned into his chest, her voice sweet and fragile. “Grant, I don’t want to break Hazel’s heart. Maybe we should just forget the wedding.” Grant pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “You waited in the shadows for five years. I owe you this.” Someone in the room laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “You really have it all figured out, Grant. One is the official wife for the cameras, and the other is your true love hidden in the mountains.” Grant simply smiled. “I will still be there for Hazel. Her health is poor, and she relies on me emotionally.” “Out of twelve months in a year, I will take one month to be with Ruby and our son. The other eleven months, I will be right by Hazel’s side.” “She will never, ever find out Ruby had my child.” The moment those words hung in the air, a broken smile crossed my face. I had never once questioned his devotion. Only in this exact second did I realize how utterly worthless a man’s heart could be. The same Grant who willingly took a knife for me had just driven a blade straight through my chest with his own hands. 3 I could not listen to another word. My chest felt blocked by concrete, the acid in my throat making every breath burn. I did not push the door open. I simply used the wall to support my weight and walked out of the gala without looking back. When I got back to our penthouse, I started packing up every single thing Grant had ever given me. With every item I tossed into the box, a tiny, invisible cut sliced into my heart. All the grand gestures I once viewed as undeniable proof of his love were nothing but a massive, humiliating joke. I taped the cardboard box shut and prepared to drag it out to the trash chute. Suddenly, the front door clicked unlocked. Grant was home. He walked in carrying a small velvet box, his eyes crinkling with that signature gentle warmth. “Hazel.” “I was walking past the boutique and saw this necklace. I immediately knew you would love it.” He stepped closer, reaching out to pull me into an embrace just like he always did. But as he leaned in, a wave of sweet gardenia perfume hit my nose. It was Ruby’s signature scent. A split second later, I noticed the faint, reddish bruise tucked just beneath his collar. My stomach violently rebelled. I shoved him away with all my strength. Grant stumbled back, looking genuinely confused. “Hazel, what is wrong?” I refused to speak. I spun around and walked into the kitchen, desperate for a glass of ice water to suppress my nausea. But when I pulled the refrigerator door open, I froze completely. My favorite jasmine tea was gone. In its place sat rows of coconut water, low-sugar yogurt, and green grapes. Everything Ruby loved. I gripped the handle of the fridge, a suffocating wave of sorrow crashing over me. It wasn’t just Grant’s heart that Ruby had invaded. She had slowly, methodically colonized every corner of my home. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down. Ruby had just posted a new photo on her social media. The picture showed a massive table covered in glowing velvet jewelry boxes, the diamonds sparkling aggressively under the lights. The caption read: “Hubby spoiled me rotten tonight. He bought every single piece of jewelry at the auction just for me. The organizers saw how much he spent and threw in a bunch of little freebies too!” I stared at the screen, my fingers turning to ice. I zoomed in on the photo. There, sitting neglected in the corner of the table, was a delicate necklace. It was the exact same necklace Grant had just handed me. His thoughtful little gift, the one he claimed he bought just for me, was literally a piece of trash Ruby did not want. Before I could even lock my phone, the comment section refreshed with a new reply from Ruby. She posted a blushing emoji. “I just bought a very special little outfit. Hubby has been begging me to wear it for weeks. Getting ready to reward him properly tonight.” I stared at the words, the overwhelming urge to vomit returning in full force. Grant walked up behind me. He must have noticed my rigid posture, his voice dropping into that soothing, gentle register. “Hazel, are you just exhausted from the gala?” “Let me carry you to bed, alright?” He reached out to support my waist, his touch as gentle as it had been a thousand times before. If I had not seen the hickey, the coconut water, and the pathetic discarded necklace, I probably would have melted into his arms, believing I was the most cherished woman on earth. Before I could say a word, Grant’s phone lit up on the counter. He instinctively glanced down. From my peripheral vision, I saw the photo flash on his screen. It was Ruby, wearing practically nothing but a few scraps of red lace, a teasing slope of her pale shoulder in full view. It was an invitation that required zero explanation. Grant’s hand twitched. He quickly pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. “Hazel, something urgent just came up at the company.” “I have to head out for a bit.” I suddenly reached out, wrapping my fingers around his wrist. My voice was incredibly frail, completely stripped of its usual warmth. “Grant. Please don’t go.” “Just stay here with me tonight. Please.” He looked down at me, a flicker of genuine hesitation crossing his eyes. For one pathetic, agonizing second, I actually thought he might choose me. But then his phone buzzed again. Ruby’s text popped up. “Hubby, I am fresh out of the shower and waiting for you. We can do your favorite position tonight.” Grant closed his eyes briefly, sealing his decision. He gently, meticulously pried my fingers off his wrist. “Be good, Hazel. It is a genuine emergency. I will come right back to you as soon as I handle it.” I watched my hand slip from his grip, my chest throbbing with a dull, sickening ache. Seeing my desolate expression, Grant tried to sweeten the blow, lowering his voice to coax me. “I will make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.” “Haven’t you always wanted to go to the amusement park? I will rent out the entire park tomorrow. Just the two of us all day.” I stared at him blankly. Three years ago, I had mentioned wanting to go to Disneyland. Ruby had gone for a three-day weekend and posted endless grids of photos. In one picture, a man’s muscular forearm was visible, holding a bunch of Mickey balloons for her. Her caption read: “Someone treats me like an absolute princess.” Back then, feeling a little jealous, I had turned to Grant and asked, “When work slows down, can we go to the park too?” He had stroked my hair, his tone endlessly patient. “Of course.” “Once you are fully recovered, I will rent the place out just for you.” I waited. I waited through the spring, and I waited through the summer. I waited so long that the theme park went through three different renovations. Grant never took me. Whenever I brought it up, he would kiss my forehead. “Next time, darling. When I am not so swamped. There are too many crowds, I don’t want you getting exhausted.” It turned out he wasn’t worried about the crowds. He wasn’t worried about my stamina. He simply had no desire to look at castles and fireworks when he had already experienced it all with another woman. My dream was just a convenient “next time” he could push back infinitely. And now, he finally remembered. He used it as a bargaining chip on the very night he was rushing off to sleep with Ruby. Realizing that, a bizarre sense of absolute calm washed over me. All the suffocating bitterness, the nausea, and the sharp pain sank to the bottom of a dark ocean. I looked up at Grant. I looked at the man I honestly believed I would spend the rest of my life with. And I slowly lowered my hand. “Go on.” 4 Once Grant left the penthouse, I dragged the heavy cardboard box out into the hallway. I threw everything down the garbage chute, piece by piece. When I reached the wooden prayer beads, my hands paused. It was the first gift Grant brought back from the Himalayas after I woke up from my coma. His hands had been raw and bleeding from the cold. He had knelt by my hospital bed, his voice completely wrecked. “Hazel, I fought the heavens and won you back.” “I swear to God, I will never let you suffer another day in your life.” I had hugged him and sobbed, genuinely believing this man had wrestled my soul back from the afterlife. I wore those beads against my skin for five solid years. Looking back now, it was utterly laughable. If the heavens were truly watching, they would have known that when he was kneeling in the snow, his heart was already split in two. Grant returned the next morning as the sun was coming up. The cloying scent of Ruby’s perfume was practically baked into his clothes. He walked into the bedroom, stopping dead when he noticed the closet was half empty. “Hazel, where are your things?” I looked at him, parting my lips to answer. His phone started ringing. Ruby’s name flashed brightly across the screen. Grant instinctively hit ignore. Noticing my pale complexion, he reached out to check my temperature. “Are you feeling sick again?” Before his fingers could even brush my forehead, the phone rang again. This time, it was a FaceTime call. Grant hesitated for two agonizing seconds, then turned away from me to answer it. He didn’t close the bathroom door all the way. Through the gap, I saw Ruby standing in front of a mirror, wearing a breathtaking white wedding gown. Her eyes were puffy. “Grant, do I look okay?” she asked nervously. “It feels a little tight around the waist.” Grant’s entire demeanor instantly melted into a puddle of devotion. “You look absolutely perfect. Don’t let them alter it.” “You look stunning in everything you wear. Tonight, I want you waiting in bed wearing nothing but that dress…” When the call finally ended, I slid a manila folder across the nightstand. It contained the signed divorce papers. “Grant, I need to tell you—” Grant snapped out of his daze, realizing I was still sitting right there. He reached out and stroked my cheek. “Hazel, once I wrap up this massive project, I promise we will go to the theme park.” I looked at him and let out a soft, airy laugh. “There is no need.” Grant didn’t understand what I meant. And he didn’t have the time to figure it out. Because Ruby sent him a voice memo. This time, a sweet, childish voice echoed from the speaker. “Daddy, when are you coming? Mommy said we are taking family photos today!” Grant’s body went entirely rigid. He looked up at me in absolute panic, terror flashing in his eyes. But he quickly forced it down, masking it with a frantic business tone. “Hazel, I really need to run out again.” I sat in silence as he practically sprinted to grab his jacket. I watched him rush out the door without ever glancing down at the divorce papers resting on the table. The moment the front door slammed shut, I grabbed the papers and shoved them into my purse. There was no point leaving them here anymore. On the third morning, exactly at nine o’clock, I walked into the operating room. Just as the anesthesia began to make my vision swim, my phone buzzed on the tray beside me. It was a text from Ruby. “Hazel, my hubby was completely feral last night.” “When things got really intense, he used that little braided charm you made him to spice things up. It completely pushed him over the edge. He lost his mind.” She attached a photo. It was a messy hotel suite, expensive lingerie scattered across the carpet. The crimson prayer cord was tossed carelessly onto the edge of the mattress. The intricate knots were completely stretched and ruined, the silk threads stained with cloudy, dried fluids. It was the cord I had spent weeks braiding for him, my fingers cramping as I recovered in my hospital bed. I stared at the photo, a single tear slipping from the corner of my eye. Right before the drugs dragged me into darkness, a final thought drifted through my mind. My devotion, my prayers, my desperate hopes for his safety. To them, it was just a cheap, dirty prop to get them off. As the cold liquid pushed through my IV, I rested my hand flat against my lower stomach. Soon, it would be entirely empty. Just like the space in my heart that Grant used to occupy. At three in the afternoon, I boarded a flight out of the country. Because I left in such a rush, my medical files and post-op paperwork were left sitting on the clinic counter. When the nurse realized I was gone, she dialed the emergency contact listed on my intake form. The line connected. The background noise on the other end was incredibly loud. The nurse hesitated, but spoke up anyway. “Hello, is this Mr. Grant Tyler?” “Miss Hazel just finished her abortion surgery. She left some important medical files behind. Could you please come pick them up?”
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