Alone In A Foreign Land

“Ma’am, there’s no marriage record between you and Mr. Mark Henderson in the system.”

My fingers tightened around the pregnancy report as my legs nearly gave out beneath me.

Five years ago, Mark was recruited by a top law firm abroad with a high-paying offer. Without hesitation, I followed him across the ocean.

He had told me, “Once I’m settled, I’ll take care of your status.”

However, five years had passed, and my lawful permanent residence was still “in process.” Meanwhile, his assistant, Tonya Irving, who followed him abroad, had secured hers under his sponsorship.

Back then, I made a scene, insisting on a divorce so I could return home. For the first time, the ever-composed Mark, an attorney, lost his calm.

He grabbed my hand and said, “Tonya’s all alone out here, and it hasn’t been easy for her. Helping her is just the right thing to do. You’re my wife. Your status is only a matter of time. My work is sensitive right now, and I need to avoid any complications. You understand, don’t you?”

But I had understood him for five whole years.

My phone suddenly rang.

Mark’s voice came through, light with laughter. “Tonya’s permanent residence was approved today. We’re celebrating tonight. I need you to get home early and cook up a feast.”

I stared at the marriage license in my hand—now nothing more than a worthless piece of paper. A cold chill spread down my spine. As it turned out, I was never his legal wife. I had no legal status and no protection, much less rights secured for the child I was carrying.

After hanging up, I scheduled an abortion and booked the earliest flight home. This time, I wouldn’t look back.

I pushed the door open, and the apartment was already buzzing with noise. Mark Henderson’s colleagues had packed the living room. Someone was popping champagne, and the sharp bursts of laughter grated against my ears.

Tonya Irving stood in the center of it all, cheeks slightly flushed, smiling as she spoke. Mark stood right beside her, a faint smile resting on his lips.

“Kaia’s back! Perfect, we’ve been waiting for you! Mr. Henderson said we have to try your cooking tonight.” Tonya Irving spotted me first and called out brightly, her smile flawless.

Every head turned toward me. Mark glanced over, his brows knitting together almost imperceptibly. He walked over and lowered his voice.

“What took you so long? Go and get started with cooking. Tonya officially became a citizen here today, and everyone’s here to celebrate her.”

I said nothing. I took off my coat and walked into the open kitchen.

The noise from the living room filtered through the glass door. They talked about recent mergers and acquisitions, about new immigration policy trends, and about making partner next year.

Every word felt distant from me. For the past five years, my entire world had been carefully confined to this small space.

As I chopped the vegetables, a wave of cheering suddenly erupted from the living room.

“Mr. Henderson, your turn! Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” His voice was as calm and steady as ever.

Someone deliberately dragged out the question. “Out of everyone here, who would you say is your best partner?”

The knife in my hand paused mid-air.

He didn’t hesitate to say, “Of course it’s Tonya. Over the years, we’ve handled the toughest cases and the most difficult clients together.”

The room burst into cheers.

“I knew it! You two have worked together for so long. No one can match that kind of chemistry!”

“Seriously, the two of you together are perfectly matched. You’re both talented and good-looking!”

“What a shame Mr. Henderson got married so young. Otherwise, you and Tonya would be perfect…”

Someone lowered their voice, but I could still hear it clearly.

“Honestly, I never understood what he sees in his wife. I heard she’s just a photographer? She doesn’t even work here. She just stays at home all day. Compared to Tonya, she’s–”

“So how did she even get him? It can’t just be her cooking, right?”

The steam from the pot stung my eyes.

Talented and beautiful, a perfect match, the best partner… Every word pierced my chest, twisting deeper each time. What made it even more ridiculous was that they all believed I was Mark’s wife. However, our marriage license was fake.

“Clang!”

The bowl slipped from my hands and shattered across the floor. The kitchen door swung open. Mark walked in, his frown deep enough to cut.

“What is up with you?”

I crouched down to pick up the shards. A piece sliced my fingertip, and blood seeped out.

“It slipped.”

He glanced at my hand, his voice laced with impatience. “Can’t you be more careful? You’re so clumsy. Don’t make a fool of me in front of my colleagues.”

I looked up at him.