Love Story1–Chapter1
Five years. Five years I’d spent building a life with Mark, pouring my heart and soul into our marriage, into his dreams. And on my birthday, the one day I’d hoped he’d remember to put me first, he was a no–show. Not even a text. The man couldn’t even be bothered to make it home before midnight..
As if the sting of being forgotten wasn’t enough, his secretary, Jessica, decided to twist the knife. My phone buzzed with a notification: Jessica, all smiles, a brand new, sparkling ring on her finger, an exact replica of the one Mark had promised he’d find for me “someday“. The caption? “The sweetest birthday gift from the best CEO.”
It was like a punch to the gut. All those late nights I’d spent helping Mark with his company, pouring over spreadsheets instead of planning birthday parties, supporting his every dream while my own gathered dust… all for this? For him to shower my replacement with empty gestures and cheap imitations of the promises he’d made to me?
My blood was boiling, but I knew a public meltdown wouldn’t help. I plastered on a smile, liked the picture, and typed out a response, my fingers shaking with suppressed rage. “Looks great on you,” I commented, the words dripping with venom I knew only I could
taste.
Less than a minute later, Mark’s face filled my phone screen. Video chat. Jessica was tucked under his arm, her mascara conveniently smudged, sniffling like a heartbroken child. The crocodile tears were almost comical.
“Come on, babe, lighten up! It was a joke!” Mark chuckled, but his voice was strained, the usual arrogance replaced by a flicker of something that might have been guilt. Or maybe. just annoyance.
“Enough drama for one day, okay? Just have dinner ready when I get home. And Amelia,” he added, his voice hardening, “this is the last time I’m putting up with your temper
tantrums.”
Temper tantrums? He called this a temper tantrum? If this was a year ago, even a month ago, I would have given him a real show. I would have screamed, I would have cried, I would have thrown his precious golf clubs out the window. But now? Now, all I felt was a bone–deep weariness. I was tired of fighting, tired of begging for scraps of his attention,
tired of being the invisible woman in his life.
I placed the signed divorce papers on the table, the crisp white envelope a stark contrast to the chaos swirling inside me. Then, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out.
He was right about one thing: this was the last time.
