A group of us expectant mothers were sitting in the waiting room at the fertility clinic, waiting for our check-ups. The conversation had somehow turned into a competition to see whose husband was the most attentive and on-call. When it was my turn, everyone looked at me with envy. Someone laughed and teased, “Mia, your husband is obsessed with you. Call him right now and tell him to come pick you up.” Ethan had previously declared to all our friends that if I ever made a single phone call, he would fly back to my side, even from the ends of the earth. Just as I was about to dial his number, my phone lit up first. It was Ethan. He had sent me his live location. He was parked in front of the County Courthouse. Simultaneously, his call came through. “I lost a game of Truth or Dare. Chloe dared me to go sign a marriage license with her just for a day.” “Mia, come down here and sign the divorce papers first. We’ll get remarried tomorrow. You know I can’t back down from a dare in front of Chloe.” The women around me instantly went dead silent. If this were the past, I would have burst into tears and demanded an explanation. But this time, I just answered with a flat, calm: “Okay.” I could hear him let out a sigh of relief, clearly thinking I was finally being ‘mature’ and understanding. Every single person in this waiting room knew that Ethan and I had been married for five years. They knew we had spent those five years visiting countless fertility specialists. And they knew that today, I had finally, miraculously, received a positive pregnancy test. They also knew that Chloe Thorne was his childhood best friend, the girl who constantly dragged him into playing toxic “I dare you” games. I finally saw the truth clearly. The so-called “dares” were never just jokes. As long as she needed him to, he really would do it. As long as she demanded it, he would absolutely rip me out of my place and give it to her. Since that’s how it is, then I hope you two rot together. 1. “Mia, make sure you bring your ID and your passport.” Ethan’s voice came through the receiver, carrying a casual, careless warmth. “You know how stubborn Chloe gets. If I don’t play along, she’ll throw a tantrum in front of the courthouse all day.” “Be a good girl. Come out and cooperate for a bit.” The air in the hospital corridor felt like it had turned to concrete. The women who had just been teasing me were now exchanging awkward, horrified glances. The envy on their faces had vanished, replaced by undisguised pity and secondhand embarrassment. I took the ultrasound photo in my hand, folded it neatly, and shoved it deep into the hidden zipper pocket of my purse. “Okay,” I said into the phone. “I knew you’d be reasonable.” Ethan let out a soft chuckle. “I’ll wait for you at the intersection across from the hospital. It’s windy out, grab a jacket.” He was always like this. Using the most tender, considerate tone to execute the most brutal decisions. I hung up the phone, ignoring the probing stares of the women around me, and walked straight toward the elevator. When I stepped out of the hospital’s main entrance, a sleek black Maybach was parked under the shade of an oak tree. Ethan was sitting in the driver’s seat, one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel. Seeing me approach, he rolled down the window and leaned over to push the passenger door open for me. “Get in. The timing is perfect.” He glanced at his Rolex. I stood on the sidewalk, making no move to get in. “Ethan. I’m pregnant.” I looked directly into his eyes, my voice as calm as if I were discussing the weather. He froze for a fraction of a second. Then, the smirk on his lips deepened. He reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Mia, are you seriously making up a fake pregnancy just to make me lose a bet?” “You never used to be like this.” He let out a sigh, his tone laced with an exasperated indulgence. “I know it feels unfair to you. But you know Chloe has deep abandonment issues.” “She just wants to prove that somewhere in this world, there is someone who will unconditionally take her side.” “Tomorrow morning, I’ll be waiting for you right outside the courthouse.” “Once we get remarried, I’ll take a week off and fly you out to Aspen to see the snow. How does that sound?” I stared into his deeply affectionate eyes, and a wave of fine, bitter nausea rose in my stomach. I had heard this exact speech too many times. Three years ago, for our wedding anniversary, he booked the entire rooftop level of a Michelin-star restaurant. Right after the appetizers were served, Chloe called. She said she was drunk at a club and dared him to show up in ten minutes. That night, I sat alone in front of a table full of French cuisine, staring blankly at the neon city lights outside the window. Afterward, I lay in bed with a 102-degree fever for two days. When he finally came home, he used this exact same gentle tone, telling me that Chloe was just a kid who never grew up, and asking me to be more forgiving. I should have realized right then that his favoritism had a strict hierarchy. “Get in the car. Don’t make Chloe wait.” He urged me. I broke eye contact, pulled open the rear door, and got in the back seat. Ethan glanced at me in the rearview mirror, a microscopic frown crossing his brow. But he didn’t say anything. He just stepped on the gas. A soft, acoustic playlist was playing in the cabin. He drove with one hand, his other hand flying across his phone screen, typing rapidly. The glow of the screen illuminated his face, revealing an unmistakable, buoyant joy. I turned my head and looked out the window. The silhouettes of the trees blurred as we sped past. The ultrasound photo lay quietly in my bag. It was a life barely six weeks old. The exact same life he had whispered in my ear countless times that he wanted—a little girl who looked just like me. But now, that life was nothing more to him than a desperate lie I invented to sabotage his game. I closed my eyes and rested my hand gently over my lower abdomen. It’s okay. Since he thinks it’s a lie, I’ll make sure he never, ever finds out the truth. 2. The car pulled up to the curb in front of the County Courthouse. Chloe was already waiting on the marble steps. She was wearing a delicate, white tulle sundress, a pearl headband resting in her hair. She was even holding a small bouquet of fresh white lisianthus. Ethan pushed his door open and stepped out, casually straightening the hem of his suit jacket. He had dressed impeccably today. A tailored, charcoal-grey suit, his tie knotted flawlessly. In his breast pocket, he had even tucked a silk pocket square that perfectly matched the color of Chloe’s dress. I followed him out of the car, wearing a slightly faded, oversized cardigan. Standing in front of this man and woman who looked as if they were about to walk down the aisle, I felt like a random pedestrian who had accidentally wandered onto a movie set. “Ethan! You finally made it!” Chloe fluttered toward him like a butterfly, throwing herself directly into his arms. Ethan caught her effortlessly, reaching up to playfully tap her nose. “Why are you running? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” Chloe turned her head and looked at me, a perfectly innocent, naive smile plastered on her face. “Mia, thank you so much for agreeing to play along with us.” “Don’t worry, I’m just borrowing Ethan for the day. I promise I’ll give him back to you tomorrow.” I didn’t respond. I walked straight past them toward the clerk’s office. The divorce process was incredibly smooth. The clerk asked the mandatory questions to ensure we were acting voluntarily. Ethan held the pen and signed his name on the divorce decree without a microsecond of hesitation. “Mia. Your turn.” He handed the pen to me. I took it, and signed my name on the line designated for the Wife. In that exact moment, a memory of us getting our marriage license five years ago flashed through my mind. It was pouring rain that day. He was wearing a wrinkled white t-shirt, pulling me by the hand as we sprinted into the courthouse. He told me: Mia, the formalities don’t matter. What’s real is what matters. You are the only woman I will ever acknowledge for the rest of my life. Looking back on it now, it wasn’t that he didn’t understand the importance of romance and ceremony. It was just that he saved all the meticulous preparation, the dressing up, and the ceremony for someone else entirely. The sound of the clerk’s official stamp hitting the paper was sharp and definitive. I took the finalized divorce decree and shoved it into my purse. Ethan turned and walked directly toward the adjacent marriage license window. Chloe was already practically vibrating with excitement, dragging him over to take their photo. Half an hour later, they walked out holding a brand new, legally binding marriage certificate. Ethan walked over to me and casually waved the document in the air, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. “Mia, looks like I won again.” He treated marriage and divorce as nothing more than loot drops in a video game. “Let’s go. I’ll drop you off at home.” He naturally reached out to wrap his arm around my shoulder. I turned my body, dodging his hand, and started walking toward the exit. When we reached the car, I reached for the handle of the passenger door. Before I could even touch it, Chloe slipped under my arm like an eel and slid right into the seat. “Mia, I get a little carsick, so I need to sit in the front to get some air. You don’t mind, right?” She blinked her innocent eyes, her hand already expertly adjusting the recline of the seat. Ethan stood off to the side, giving me a faux-apologetic look. “Mia, just sit in the back. There’s more legroom anyway.” This was his version of making things right. He knew it was inappropriate, but he would never, ever alter an established situation just for my sake. I pulled open the rear door and got in. The car started. Through the Bluetooth audio system, Chloe connected her own phone. A cheerful, upbeat wedding march began echoing through the confined space of the cabin. She pulled a bottle of sparkling water from her bag, unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and then naturally held it up to Ethan’s lips. Ethan didn’t reject it. He took a drink directly from her hand. “Ethan, your tie is crooked.” She leaned completely over the center console, her soft fingers fiddling with his collar. Ethan didn’t pull away. He just murmured a low, gentle warning: “Stop messing around, I’m driving.” His tone was absolutely overflowing with indulgence. I leaned back against the leather seat, staring at the reflection of their intertwined silhouettes in the rearview mirror. The sickening nausea surged violently in my stomach again. I forced down the urge to vomit and turned my face toward the window. Ethan, this is the absolute last time you will ever make me feel sick. 3. The car pulled into the driveway of the sprawling Sterling family estate. Today was his mother’s 60th birthday. We had originally agreed to head straight here for the family dinner after running errands. When we pushed the double doors open, the living room was packed with relatives. Ethan walked in holding Chloe’s hand, looking exactly like a pair of newlyweds making their grand entrance. I followed silently behind them, holding the expensive nutritional supplements I had waited in line for hours to buy yesterday. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, was sitting in the seat of honor. The moment she saw Chloe, a massive, genuine smile broke across her face. “Chloe’s here! Come sit right next to me, sweetheart.” She grabbed Chloe’s hand and seamlessly slid a translucent, flawlessly green jade bangle off her own wrist. It was the heirloom bangle meant exclusively for the eldest daughter-in-law of the Sterling family. In the five years we were married, she never once mentioned its existence to me. “This jade has excellent clarity. It complements your fair skin perfectly.” Eleanor slipped the bangle onto Chloe’s wrist. “If Ethan hadn’t taken a detour five years ago, this bangle would have been on your wrist a long time ago.” The surrounding relatives let out a chorus of good-natured, agreeable laughter. I stood frozen in the entryway. I couldn’t walk forward, and I couldn’t walk out. Ethan sat comfortably on the sofa, peeling a tangerine, acting completely deaf to his mother’s words. He didn’t stop her, and he didn’t try to defend me. He was giving tacit approval for Chloe to wield the absolute power to humiliate me in this house. “Mia, why are you just standing there?” Chloe touched the jade bangle on her wrist and looked directly at me. “Eleanor said she was really craving your steamed sea bass. Hurry up and go to the kitchen to help out.” I set the expensive gift box down on the shoe cabinet, turned around, and walked straight into the kitchen. The kitchen was stiflingly hot. I tied on an apron and began prepping the live, thrashing sea bass. Over the past five years of our marriage, the core proposals and investor pitch decks for Ethan’s tech startup were almost exclusively written by me, pulling all-nighters. But in the eyes of the Sterling family, I was nothing but a useless freeloader who sat at home all day and couldn’t even manage to produce an heir. An hour later, I walked out carrying the three main dishes and the soup I had just finished cooking. The massive dining table was already covered in high-end takeout containers. It was delivery from the most exclusive, expensive seafood restaurant downtown. Chloe was holding Ethan’s corporate black card, directing the maids on how to plate the food. “Mia, the stuff you made is way too bland. Ethan has been working so hard lately, he needs real protein.” She casually picked up the platter of steamed sea bass I had just set down. Her wrist ‘slipped.’ The entire platter—fish, broth, and ceramic plate—crashed perfectly into the heavy-duty trash can next to the table. “Oops. My hand slipped. Oh well, there wasn’t any room left on the table anyway.” She stuck her tongue out playfully. I stood exactly where I was, staring into the trash can at the steaming, ruined fish. Ethan walked out of the powder room and pulled out his chair. “What happened?” he asked. “I accidentally knocked over the fish Mia made,” Chloe said, lowering her head, looking incredibly guilty and victimized. Ethan glanced at the trash can, then looked at me. “It’s fine. It’s just a fish.” He used his chopsticks to place a massive chunk of King Crab meat into Chloe’s bowl. “You’re so thoughtful, Chloe. You knew I’ve been craving seafood.” He turned his head to look at me, his tone flat and dismissive. “You too. You sit at home all day and your cooking hasn’t improved at all. Just stop doing it.” I untied my apron and draped it over the back of an empty chair. “You guys go ahead. I’m not really hungry.” I turned and walked upstairs toward the guest bedroom. Pushing the door open, I sat down at the desk and opened the laptop I carried with me everywhere. There was an unread email in my inbox from the PR department of Ethan’s company. I clicked on the attachment. It was the promotional poster for the new novel I had been working on for three years. Right in the dead center of the poster, directly next to my pen name… Were seven massive, bold words: Co-Authored by Chloe Thorne. I stared at the screen, my pupils contracting into pinpricks. The bedroom door pushed open, and Ethan walked in holding a glass of warm water. He walked up behind me, glanced at the screen, and set the glass down on the desk. “You saw it?” He leaned forward, bracing both hands on the back of my chair. “Chloe wants to play around in the publishing industry for a bit. She needs a solid resume to get her foot in the door.” “You’re a veteran in the field. Just show her the ropes. It’s just adding a name to the cover.” Using a tone of absolute, unquestionable entitlement, he casually carved up the blood, sweat, and tears of my life’s work. 4. I spun my chair around and looked up at Ethan. “I spent three years writing this novel. The outline, the character arcs, the chapter treatments—I typed every single letter myself.” “Has she read a single word of it? What right does she have to put her name on it?” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the dead-quiet room, it was razor-sharp. Ethan stood up straight, his brow furrowing into a deep V of annoyance. “Mia, do you seriously have to be this petty right now?” “The promotional materials were finalized and pushed out overnight. The book launches across all major retail channels tomorrow morning.” “If you throw a tantrum now and delay the launch, who is going to cover the financial losses to the company?” He looked down at me from his pedestal, looking at me the exact same way you would look at an irrational, screaming toddler. “It is literally just a name on a cover. The advance and the royalties are still being deposited 100% into your bank account. You aren’t losing anything.” He had taken my heart and soul, and degraded it into a cheap commodity that could be bought off with a paycheck. “And what if I say no?” I stared at him. The temperature in Ethan’s eyes plummeted to absolute zero. “Mia. Know when to stop.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and put one between his lips, but didn’t light it. “Don’t forget. We finalized our divorce today.” “Legally speaking, you have absolutely zero ties to the Sterling family right now. This novel was incubated using corporate resources, which means I hold the ultimate authority to dictate the authorship credits.” He dropped his ultimate trump card, absolutely certain I would fold and compromise exactly like I always did. “Ethan!” Chloe’s sugary, whining voice echoed from the hallway outside. “Eleanor said I should sleep in your room tonight! Is it going to be weird with Mia staying in the guest room?” Ethan looked at me, his tone reverting to that sickening, hypocritical gentleness. “Why don’t you go stay at your little studio apartment for the night?” “Chloe scares easily, and she hates sleeping in unfamiliar places. Having you here is just going to make her uncomfortable.” He pressed the button on the internal intercom, summoning the private security guards from downstairs. “Escort Ms. Quinn off the premises.” I looked at him. I didn’t struggle. I didn’t argue. I calmly closed my laptop, slid it into its sleeve, and picked it up. “Okay.” I turned around and walked out the door. When I stepped out of the heavy iron gates of the Sterling estate, a torrential, violent downpour had just begun. I didn’t have an umbrella. I had no choice but to walk through the blinding rain. Halfway down the secluded road, my phone violently vibrated. It was an automated SMS from the bank. Every single one of my supplementary credit cards and joint accounts had been instantly frozen. A voice memo from Ethan popped up immediately after. “I froze your cards. Spend some time alone out there and cool off. Whenever you finally realize how irrational you’re being, you can call me.” He was absolutely convinced that I couldn’t survive without him. This was his way of “punishing” me. The rain fell harder and harder in blinding sheets. The freezing water ran down my hair, seeping under my collar. Suddenly, a sharp, excruciating cramp ripped through my lower abdomen. My legs gave out completely, and I collapsed into the freezing mud on the side of the road. A warm gush of fluid rushed down my inner thighs, rapidly staining the white fabric of my dress a horrifying crimson. The heavy, dragging pain in my pelvis was so severe I couldn’t even draw a breath. With violently trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed Ethan’s number. It rang for a very long time before he finally answered. “Figured it out yet?” His voice was barely audible over the sound of loud laughter and clinking glasses in the background. “Ethan… my stomach hurts so bad. I’m bleeding…” I ground the words out through clenched teeth, my entire body shaking. The other end of the line went dead silent for a full second. Ten agonizing minutes later, the sleek Maybach tore around the corner and slammed on the brakes right in front of me. Ethan stepped out holding an umbrella. When he saw the massive bloodstain on my dress, the color drained from his face. He threw the umbrella onto the ground and bent down to scoop me up. Right at that exact millisecond, his phone started vibrating aggressively in his pocket. It was Chloe’s custom ringtone. His hands froze. He answered the call. “ETHAN! The countdown is at ten minutes! If you don’t get to the bridge right now, I’m going to jump!” Ethan’s entire body went rigid. He looked down at me, and then looked at the countdown timer glaring on his phone screen. “Mia. Just hold on.” He lowered me back down into the freezing mud. “I just called an ambulance for you. Chloe is at the bridge, it’s a critical emergency. I have to go to her first.” “Be a good girl. Wait here. As soon as I get her down, I’ll come straight to the hospital.” He stripped off his suit jacket, threw it over my shivering body, turned around, and sprinted back into the torrential rain. The taillights of the Maybach rapidly vanished into the dark, stormy night. I lay in the mud, staring blankly in the direction he had disappeared. The agonizing pain in my abdomen was slowly fading into a cold, terrifying numbness. I pulled out my phone and canceled the ambulance he claimed he had called. Then, I opened my contacts and systematically blocked Ethan’s phone number, his social media accounts, and every single point of contact he had. Everything. Blocked permanently.
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