I had carefully prepared dinner for our seventh wedding anniversary, but my husband Alexander Sinclair still didn’t show up. On our first wedding anniversary, Alexander’s secretary Madison Blair said her relative had died. Alexander didn’t hesitate to change out of his suit and put on black funeral attire to attend the service. I waited for him on the observation deck in five-degree weather until dawn. On our second anniversary, Madison sprained her ankle. Alexander kicked me out of the car, leaving me to get soaked in the pouring rain as he drove off. I ended up running into Alexander at the hospital, kneeling in front of Madison helping her tie her shoes. Every anniversary after that, Madison always found a way to lure him away. I had hysterical breakdowns many times, but Alexander just scolded me for lacking empathy. “There are many anniversaries, but what if Madison gets hurt because of you?” On our seventh wedding anniversary, Alexander left again. I saw Madison’s Instagram update and learned she was pregnant and nearly had a miscarriage. Alexander was so worried his eyes were bloodshot. This time I didn’t lose my temper. I just sent Alexander a message: [I don’t want to celebrate our anniversary with you anymore. Let’s get divorced.] ***** After sending the message, Alexander never replied, but I didn’t care anymore. Looking at the candlelit dinner I’d carefully prepared in the restaurant’s private dining room, I picked up my purse and left. In the lobby, the restaurant manager smiled and handed me his business card: “Mrs. Sinclair, you can make reservations in advance for your next holiday celebration.” I shook my head: “No need. I won’t be celebrating anniversaries anymore.” When Alexander came to the private room for our date today, I thought he wouldn’t leave again. But then Madison called him, and Alexander left without hesitation. What I saw last was Madison’s pregnancy test photo on Instagram and a picture of Alexander cooking for her. My phone chimed. Madison taunted me: “Bitch, you can’t even keep your own husband. You’re nothing compared to me.” I tapped the screen with my finger: “Alexander is all yours. I don’t want him anymore.” Then I turned off my phone and went straight home. As soon as I walked in, I saw our little dog Buddy wagging his tail as he ran to greet me. Sensing my bad mood, he rubbed against my legs. I had just picked him up when Alexander came home. The moment he walked in, he questioned me with displeasure: “What do you mean by asking for a divorce? It’s just an anniversary. Is it really necessary to get this angry?” I looked at Alexander. The hickeys on his neck were obvious. My expression turned disappointed. He said dismissively: “I told you Madison is just my assistant. I should take care of her.” I closed my eyes, trying to stay calm. “Assistant? Your way of taking care of your assistant is getting her pregnant, caring for her, and abandoning your wife over and over again?” Alexander was momentarily speechless, seemingly not expecting me to confront him so directly. Embarrassed and angry, he simply admitted to the affair. “Yes, I cheated, but didn’t you also seduce other men behind my back in college?” I froze, looking at him in disbelief: “What did you say?” After college, to help Alexander expand his network, I attended business cocktail parties every day. I didn’t know someone had spiked my drink with an aphrodisiac. That nauseating smell and those rough hands gave me nightmares for a long time. Although the man ultimately didn’t succeed, I couldn’t accept what happened and asked Alexander to break up. Back then, Alexander cried and held me, swearing he would always protect me and never let me get hurt again. Now, the husband I’d loved for so many years was using that incident to attack me. Alexander was even saying it was all my fault! Alexander seemed to realize he’d said something wrong and quickly added: “Did I say anything wrong? Look at yourself now! Madison is young and beautiful, and she can help me in my career. Any man would choose her! I’ll make up the anniversary gift to you. Stop making a scene.” I didn’t respond. The smile in our wedding photo on the wall now seemed utterly ironic. I just felt heartbroken. Sinclair Group was founded by Alexander and me together. After the company grew, Alexander repeatedly persuaded me to quit and become a full-time housewife. He said: “I don’t want you to work so hard. You should enjoy life at home.” I believed him. But after I quit, Alexander started cutting back on the money he gave me, telling me to spend rationally. I didn’t need this kind of life. After Madison became his assistant, he started mentioning her name every day. When I went to the company to bring Alexander lunch, I discovered the whole office was gossiping about their affair. When I asked about his relationship with Madison, Alexander flew into a rage, accusing me of doubting his loyalty. He even threatened that if I slandered them again, he’d divorce me. Because I loved Alexander, I compromised again and again. Seeing that I wasn’t speaking, Alexander was about to say something when his phone rang. He glanced at it, and his expression immediately softened. “Alex, the baby and I are hungry. Can you come back and cook for us?” Madison cooed over the phone. Alexander agreed and left without looking back. The door slammed shut. I held back my tears, remembering in a daze that Alexander and I once had happy times too. We once had a child too…
Alexander and I actually had a child when we first got married. Back then, he was always out late for business dinners to grow the company, and I’d pick him up to bring him home. Alexander would always take my hand with such happiness on his face, talking about our future together. But on the way home one night, a drunk driver came speeding toward us. I instinctively pushed Alexander out of the way, but I got hit instead. I hemorrhaged and miscarried, spending two weeks in the ICU. Alexander knelt by my hospital bed, crying and apologizing over and over, promising he’d never let me get hurt again. But after the accident, I couldn’t get pregnant. I tried countless medications and saw specialists everywhere, but nothing worked. Alexander held me and swore, “It doesn’t matter. Having kids or not—I just want you to be happy.” But now that life’s gotten better, Alexander broke his promise and fell in love with someone else. I took a deep breath and stopped crying. I looked around. This huge mansion, no matter how warmly I decorated it, still felt cold and empty. Ever since Alexander started his affair with Madison, he’d been coming home less and less. I decided to contact a real estate agent to put the house on the market. He had money now anyway—plenty of places to live. I took down our wedding photo from the wall and picked up scissors, cutting it to pieces with determination. My heart ached. This wedding photo was actually one we’d taken later to replace the original. When I first noticed Alexander’s special treatment of Madison, my instincts drove me to meet with her. I revealed my identity as Alexander’s wife and tried to reason with her: “Miss Blair, you’re still young—don’t act impulsively.” But Madison looked at me with a cold laugh, saying dismissively, “You’re useless, old, and ugly—don’t blame me for stealing your husband. “You think I couldn’t get Mr. Sinclair to destroy your wedding photos with just one word?” I didn’t believe her. Back then, I was convinced Alexander still loved me. But when I got home, I found our bedroom wedding photo torn up and thrown on the floor. Alexander just casually explained, “I accidentally tore the wedding photo.” That’s when I knew he didn’t love me anymore. I waited seven years after that, but he never changed. I snapped back to reality and started cleaning up the mess on the floor. Suddenly the door opened—Alexander had come back. Seeing me kneeling on the ground, he frowned with disgust. “What are you doing?” He kicked the debris aside without even looking and grabbed my wrist hard. “Madison just collapsed. She’s been diagnosed with acute leukemia. You need to come with me to the hospital right now for bone marrow compatibility testing!” Alexander looked frantic. For a moment, I almost saw a glimpse of the Alexander who used to care about me. “I’m not going. Why should I get tested?” I pulled my hand away from Alexander’s grip. But his expression darkened, and he grabbed my collar, dragging me toward the door. “You don’t have a choice!” He dragged me so roughly that I stumbled and hit my waist against the table corner. The sharp pain brought tears to my eyes, but Alexander didn’t care at all. Behind us, Buddy barked loudly, trying to follow, but Alexander kicked him away. “Buddy!” I struggled desperately with tears in my eyes, but Alexander still forced me into the car. As I fought back, the car door slammed shut on my hand. He drove at breakneck speed, even running several red lights. Watching Alexander’s desperate urgency, I felt nothing but heartbreak. At the hospital, Alexander dragged me along, completely ignoring the scrapes on my body and my bare, injured feet. He pushed me to the nurses’ station and said, “I found a compatible donor. Draw her bone marrow immediately! “Use every method available—you have to save my wife!” Hearing Alexander call Madison his wife, I stared at him in shock. I clenched my fists and said firmly, “I refuse! Why should I donate bone marrow to the woman who destroyed my marriage?” Alexander looked at me with a dark expression, as if I was being unreasonable. He said, “Emma, I gave you a home, but you can’t even have children! “Now I’m asking you to donate bone marrow to save Madison and my child. You have no right to refuse.”
I stood there, frozen in place. Alexander’s expression felt foreign and disgusting to me. Afraid he might exaggerate and expose my privacy, I reluctantly agreed: “Fine.” I have a phobia of hospitals. Before I could follow the nurse out, Alexander’s cold voice came from behind me: “Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting for you outside.” I didn’t turn around, feeling utterly miserable inside. An hour later, while I was resting, I heard Alexander’s urgent voice: “When will the compatibility results be ready? Will the amount of bone marrow you drew affect the test results? Draw more of her bone marrow!” The nurse tried to explain, but Alexander coldly told her: “If there are any problems with the test, your hospital can’t handle the responsibility.” The nurse had no choice but to draw more of my bone marrow. My consciousness grew increasingly blurry, and I felt completely hopeless about Alexander. When I woke up again, I was already lying in a hospital room. The door opened, and Alexander walked in saying: “Your bone marrow doesn’t match Madison’s. I’ll keep looking for suitable bone marrow. You should go home and rest first.” I didn’t say a word. Only then did he notice the bandaged wounds on my body. My feet were covered in wounds, and even after the doctor’s treatment, they looked terrible. Alexander seemed nervous and immediately crouched down to examine my injuries: “I’m sorry, Emma. I was too anxious at the time.” He held my hand apologetically. But his action hurt my hand that had been injured by the car door: “Let go!” Alexander looked somewhat surprised, gazing at me with what seemed like genuine concern. He said: “Emma, I do love you, but I can’t give up my right to have children for you. That puts too much pressure on me. Madison is innocent—don’t take your anger out on her. Here’s my bank card; consider this money as compensation for you.” As Alexander spoke, he pressed a card into my hand. Looking at his weary expression, I found it laughable, but I still took the bank card. Since I couldn’t get love, I might as well get the money. I said: “I won’t make things difficult for her. Once I’m discharged, we’ll get divorced.” Hearing my words, Alexander’s face changed dramatically. He suddenly stood up, looking down at me from above: “I told you I would never divorce. Don’t even think about—” He didn’t finish his sentence as a nurse came in saying Madison wanted to see him. Alexander glanced at me and said: “Think it over carefully!” With that, he strode out. Two days later, I was discharged. When I returned home, Buddy didn’t greet me as usual. I panicked. I searched the entire house but couldn’t find Buddy. Only after checking the security footage did I discover that Alexander had come back and taken him away. I immediately rushed back to the hospital, but outside Madison’s room, I heard her retching. “Alex, I wanted to eat dog meat, but this smell is too awful…” “Then forget it.” Alexander didn’t hesitate to throw the meat into the trash can. My whole body trembled, and I couldn’t control my tears. Buddy was the dog Alexander and I had adopted together last Christmas. We’d raised him like our own child all these Christmases. He could actually be so heartless as to kill him for Madison! With red eyes, I rushed into the room and slapped Madison hard across the face. “Why? Why steal my husband and then kill Buddy too?” The loud slap stunned them both. The next second, Alexander forcefully pushed me away, angrily saying: “Madison is pregnant and can eat whatever she wants. It’s just a dog, yet you’re being so unreasonable!” I couldn’t steady myself and my back hit the wall. Enduring the pain, I stood up and slapped Alexander across the face, crying and shouting: “Just for this woman, you killed Buddy. You bastard! I regret ever meeting you!” Alexander flew into a rage, scolding: “What did you say?” I said nothing more, bending down to pick up Buddy’s bones from the trash can. Then, I looked at him with determination and said: “Tomorrow, I’ll be waiting for you at the law firm to handle the divorce papers.”
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