1 It was the fifth year of sharing my wife with another man. Every year, she set aside exactly one day for me. The rest of her time belonged to him. I stared at her back as she stood by the entryway, the silence stretching between us until I finally found my voice. “Can you please just end things with him? Can we focus on our marriage for once?” I ran the entire household. I paid the bills, managed the chores, and took care of her ailing father. She never once asked how I was doing. Her entire world revolved around Ashton. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her face twisting into a look of pure exhaustion and disgust. “This house is nothing but mortgages and bills, Nate. It suffocates me. There is no joy left here. But Ashton is different. He is gentle, attentive, and he actually understands how hard I work. Is it really a crime for me to want a little escape from this misery?” I let out a bitter, silent laugh. The harmony they shared only existed because they didn’t have to deal with the harsh reality of daily life. If that was what she wanted, I would let her go. I had my own life to live; I was done waiting for a storm that would never clear. She remained standing in the entryway, showing no intention of staying. Swallowing the last of my pride, I forced down the bitterness in my throat. “Just stay tonight. For me. Let’s try to make this work, please?” If she said yes, I was willing to forgive everything. But Valerie kept her face turned away, her brow furrowing with irritation. “Ashton and I are too deep into this to end it now. Trying to force us apart won’t do anyone any good.” She pushed the door open, pausing on the threshold. “And stop playing the victim. You knew when you married me that I wasn’t the type to be chained to a kitchen sink.” The door slammed shut behind her, the heavy sound echoing through the empty hall. I stood there, a humorless smile tugging at my lips. She had been the one to spark our romance, showering me with affection and taking care of everything in the beginning. When did our home become a prison she was desperate to escape? My phone buzzed. It was a message from Ashton. The attached photo showed him sitting in the passenger seat of Valerie’s car, their fingers tightly intertwined. [Five years, Nate, and you still can’t keep her for a single day. Thank you for being so useless. We’re going on a road trip to the coast.] I sank into the couch, tossing the phone face down. Looking at the calendar, where today’s date was circled in red ink, a hollow laugh escaped my chest. Tears slipped down my cheeks. Today was our wedding anniversary, the only day she came home. I had been up since four in the morning, preparing a table full of her favorite dishes and putting on the tailored shirt she had gifted me, hoping against hope that she would choose our family. But she left to watch the ocean with Ashton. My phone rang again, this time a FaceTime call from my father. I rubbed my eyes and answered. His face filled the screen as he squinted at the empty room behind me. “Valerie didn’t stay? She went back to that parasite?” I didn’t answer, and my silence was confession enough. He sighed heavily. “People are like that, Nate. It’s been five years. Just keep your head down and take care of the house. In time, she’ll realize how good she has it.” He paused. “Our neighbor’s son got a divorce last year, and people still talk behind his back.” In the corner of the screen, my mother sat silently on a stool, her face tight. The words about not being able to do this anymore died in my throat. I hung up, changed out of my nice clothes, and scraped the untouched dinner into the trash. Five years of humiliation, five years of playing the third wheel in my own marriage. I was done. This house was no longer my home. Within hours, Ashton posted a gallery of photos on social media. The caption read: [Shoutout to my queen for spoiling me like a prince.] It felt like a slap in the face. In the photos, his skin looked flawless against his bright red suit. I looked at my own reflection in the mirror. I was only thirty, but my face was sallow and my eyes were hollow. I had destroyed myself for a woman who didn’t care if I breathed. Before I could even close the app, a demanding text from Valerie popped up. [My dad was admitted to the hospital. Go check on him.] A flood of conflicting emotions washed over me. I despised her cruelty, but her father was an innocent old man who shouldn’t suffer because of our failing marriage. I swallowed the bitterness, grabbed a jacket, and rushed out. It took me an hour and a half to reach the hospital. Just as I reached for the door handle of the private room, the sound of laughter from inside stopped me cold. “Ashton, you two have fun and don’t worry about me,” her father’s voice boomed. “Nate is holding down the fort at home, and I’ll have him handle everything here at the hospital. You guys enjoy the ocean air, relax, and focus on giving me a grandchild.” Ashton’s soft voice followed. “Arthur, are you sure we aren’t putting too much on Nate? I’d hate to be a burden.” Her father clarified immediately. “What burden? He’s the son-in-law. It’s his job to take care of the family.” I stood frozen in the corridor, a chill running through my veins. Five years of exhausting myself, catering to their every whim, and they viewed it as my duty. I was nothing but unpaid labor to them. I pushed the door open. Her father’s laughter died on his lips, and he hastily hung up the video call. “Nate, what took you so long?” He was too used to my submissive nature for any guilt to linger. “Now that you’re here, go settle the bill at the front desk and fill out the inpatient paperwork.” I looked at him, my expression blank. Over the years, whenever his chronic illness flared up, I was the one who pulled all-nighters in the emergency room. Even when I was burning up with a fever, I never missed a shift. Valerie was always too busy with Ashton. And they had come to expect it. “Call your daughter,” I said quietly. He gaped at me in disbelief. “What did you say? You’re the son-in-law, how dare you…” I didn’t listen to his shouting. I turned around and walked out. Once outside, I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. It was answered almost instantly. “Finally decided to call me? Did you finally wake up?” “Yeah,” I said, a little embarrassed. “Do you still have a spot for me?” Dylan let out a loud laugh. “Man, it’s about time! You’re always welcome here.” Fortunately, it wasn’t too late. The moment I hung up, Valerie’s texts started flooding my screen. [Nate, my dad said you just walked out?] [What is your problem? I work myself to the bone to provide for this family, and this is how you repay me?] [Get back to the hospital right now. If anything happens to him, it’s on you.] I stared at the screen, let out a dry laugh, and blocked her number before deleting the contact entirely. I was done being her safety net. Back at the house, I began packing my bags. Valerie rarely came home, but her things occupied every corner, her baseball bats, her skis, her fishing rods, all kept meticulously dust-free. Yet, after living here for five years, my own belongings didn’t even fill a single carry-on suitcase. I remembered when she first brought me to this house, promising to make it a haven for me. Now, all her warmth was reserved for Ashton, leaving me with nothing but empty rooms. Once my bag was zipped, I sat at the laptop and began tallying our expenses over the last five years. The monthly mortgage, her father’s medical bills, surgeries, utilities, and groceries totaled well over two hundred thousand dollars. The numbers on the screen were staggering. Over the same period, Valerie had contributed less than eighty thousand. Whenever I had asked her for help, she had accused me of suffocating her, running back to Ashton and leaving me with the bills. To keep us afloat, I had taken night shifts at a local convenience store. I had drained my youth and my savings to maintain this illusion of a home while she rented out an entire boutique hotel to celebrate Ashton’s birthday. The memory stung like an open wound. I saved copies of every bill, bank transfer, and medical receipt. As I finished saving the files, the front door clicked open. It was Valerie. Thanks to her father’s hospitalization, I was seeing her for the second time in a week. Her eyes swept over my suitcase, but she didn’t look concerned. “Are you done throwing your tantrum? My dad is in a hospital bed, and you walk out just to force me to come home and coax you?” I looked at her, suddenly too exhausted to argue. “Believe whatever you want.” She grabbed my wrist, trying to drag me toward the door. “Get in the car. We’re going to the hospital so you can apologize to my dad.” I stumbled, nearly losing my footing, but she didn’t seem to care. I yanked my arm back, my wrist scraping against the edge of the console table. A dull ache throbbed under my skin. “Why should I apologize? If you love Ashton so much, why don’t you have him take care of your dad?” I was practically shouting now, my voice trembling. Valerie stared at me, astonished. “You’re my husband, Nate. Why would I ask anyone else? If you were just a little more understanding, like Ashton, we wouldn’t have to live like this.” I looked at her with absolute calm. “We won’t have to anymore. We are done. I want a divorce.” A flicker of amusement crossed Valerie’s eyes. “A divorce? You’ve been a homemaker for five years, Nate. You have no job, no income, and I’ve been supporting you this entire time. You wouldn’t even survive a month on your own. Stop embarrassing yourself.” She was too familiar with my past obedience, confident that I had nowhere else to go. She kicked my suitcase lightly. “I’ll let this slide. Unpack your things, and go take care of my dad tomorrow. Don’t push your luck.” With that, she slammed the door and walked out. I watched her leave, then pulled out my phone to send my location to Dylan. [Dylan, I need a divorce. Can you draft the paperwork for me?] For five years, he had begged me to cut my losses and leave. I had been too stubborn to listen. Dylan replied instantly: [I’m on it.] We met at a quiet diner down the street. The moment he saw me, he pulled me into a tight hug. “I’ll handle the filing and the asset division, Nate. We’re going to get back every single penny she owes you.” He opened his laptop, typing rapidly. “We can trace all household expenses, the mortgage payments you covered, and her father’s medical bills. She’s been cheating and emotionally abusive, so we have all the leverage.” I nodded, sending him the folder of receipts. Dylan quickly drafted the agreement and turned the screen toward me. “Take a look. If it looks good, I’ll print it, and we can file it at city hall tomorrow.” But when I looked up our marriage certificate number on the county portal to verify the details, a red warning box popped up on the screen: [Record not found. Invalid registration number.] I thought it was a glitch. I refreshed the page and re-entered the details, but the result was the same. Dylan noticed my frozen expression and leaned in. “What’s wrong?” I stared at the screen, my mind completely blank. “Dylan, our marriage certificate… it’s a fake.” Dylan snatched the paper from my hands. As a seasoned legal professional, it took him only a few seconds to spot the forgery. “That piece of garbage. She lied to you for five years. Don’t worry, this is fraud. I’ll get you every cent of your assets and emotional damages.” I walked back to the apartment in a daze, the weight of the last five years crashing down on me. I had sacrificed everything for a forged document, playing the dutiful husband in a marriage that never existed. I logged into my banking app, turned off the automatic payments for the mortgage, the utilities, and her father’s medical accounts. I placed my keys on the entryway table and walked out of the prison that had held me for five years, never looking back.
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