Emily's pov

On a normal day, I would not have accepted my best friend's offer. I had never really been a party animal and became even more reserved after getting hitched. But tonight was not just about my anniversary.

Grandma was dying.

She was bedbound, and the doctors said they were doing everything they could to treat her, but on every visit, I could see the light dimming in her eyes in real time; my heart cracked each time. I had hoped that this dinner would distract me, and he would be here for me, only to be abandoned yet again.

I obeyed the caller's instructions like my life depended on it. I arrived at the hotel, and Wendy caught me in the lobby, hooking her arm into mine.

"I'm so glad you came, girl and–"

She looked down disapprovingly at my wedding ring. It reminded me of the first time she saw it. She laughed and said, "All right! All right, I fell for your prank, now where is the real ring?"

It took a lot for my self-esteem to recover from that one, and I don't think I've really healed from that.

"Doesn't that ring ever get too tight for your finger?" She said, hooking her arm with mine and leading me towards the elevator. Once again, I was reminded why I didn't spend much time with Wendy anymore. Yes, my marriage wasn't perfect, but she wasn't helping by constantly poking holes into it. And she was single too, so maybe she was just insecure that I had a man and she didn't.

Yeah, maybe that's it.

"Wendy, the ring has always been too small. I told you that Brad accidentally got something that was a size smaller than my finger."

She nodded, "Yeah, 'accidentally',"

I frowned. "Wendy, if you're just going to badmouth my husband all night, why don't I just leave? You have other friends to hang out with, so you should be fine."

"No! Please stay," she clutched my hand. "Fine, I won't talk about your husband at all, happy?"

"But on one condition? She added."

"Which is?" I asked with an accusatory stare.

She stopped walking.

"Don't talk about him either," she warned. "I love you, Em... I really do... But sometimes I find it hard to invite you to anything, not just because you always say no, but you never fail to ruin the vibe by talking about that man."

"Me?" I asked, sincerely flabbergasted.

She nodded. "That's true, you always tell us about how your man could treat you better... How he did this and that to you, and then we console, only for you to go right back to him. Don't you think that makes us look stupid?"

We started moving again until we were in front of the elevator. She pressed the button while I was still stewing with my thoughts, thinking of how to defend myself.

"Nobody's perfect, Wendy. We've also had some falling out. But we patch it up later, right?"

She shrugged, "I guess we do; you're right, no relationship is perfect. But some things are just simply unacceptable. If he makes you complain and whine all the time, then it's not a happy relationship with a couple of bumps, but rather, a rocky one with a few rest stops."

My heart began to beat in my stomach as if it had changed position. However, I still kept my cool.

I was about to say something to defend my husband yet again; that was when the elevator doors separated, unveiling something that made my jaw drop in an instant.

My husband, Brad and my younger sister Becky, their bodies molded together and their lips glued so deeply that they were exchanging saliva. I stood without moving. It was like watching a horror movie I couldn't turn off. They were so engrossed with making out that they didn't even notice my existence.

It was when Brad's fingers started gathering the hem of her dress that I could take no more, and I screamed.

"Brad!"

He tore his face away from Becky. What came from his mouth wasn't an apology. Instead, he looked at me like I was the gum stuck under his shoe and asked, "Did you follow me here?"

l was stunned, and it was clearly written on my face. I froze as if I had been glued to that spot, and I watched the elevator close up. Everything was in slow motion, and my ears rang with high-pitched sounds.

Just then, there was a text on my phone. It read, "It's not what you think, I'll explain everything to you later, but just go home now."

My legs buckled, and if it wasn't for my best friend holding on to me, I would have collapsed on the floor.

I read the text over and over again, my eyes glued to my screen.

Tears began to form in my eyes and roll down generously. People who passed by had different variations of looks, from concerned to irritated. Most, if not all, were probably wondering why a full-grown woman was bawling her eyes out like a toddler. Wendy was tenderly stroking my back as she pronounced every curse under the sun at Brad.

By the time I was back on my feet, at least literally, I felt so embarrassed for myself. Breaking down like that in public, where other people could see me.

How humiliating!

I looked at the text again and wondered if I was in some nightmare that didn't want to end.

As if to torment me more, the scene of Brad kissing Becky flashed back in. When they broke off the case, she looked at me; she hadn't said anything, but she had this satisfied smirk on her face.

As for me, I was trying to grapple with reality.

All these years, I had poured everything into this man; my blood, sweat and tears. I gave them to him, and what did I get in return? Crumbs of affection!

I never saw a problem with him. Growing up, my parents always told me in a million ways and one that my younger sister, Becky, was the center of the universe, and I just had to deal with it.

Emily's pov

Becky was truly the golden child.

I'd get straight A's, but that was 'expected.' Becky would manage to avoid straight 'F's, and my parents would shake the house down to its foundation, congratulating her like she just solved world hunger.

After I left that house, I thought I'd left all that behind.

But nope!

It wasn't bad enough that she already had everything; she had to take the little I had as well.

"I want to go back home," I told Wendy quietly. I thought she'd argue and nag, but she agreed easily. When we passed the sliding doors of the hotel, I was still thinking of Brad; he had never once kissed me like that, leaning in with his whole body while he craved with need.

That was my wake-up call.

I held Wendy tighter.

"You know what?" I said, a rush of determination entering me, "Fuck Brad, the night is young and I deserve to have fun. Who cares about him?"

Wendy looked at me worriedly at first, then squeezed my hand with support, smiling back in approval.

We went to the hotel bar just like we had been planning at first. My heart was pounding with every step, expecting to catch Brad and Becky again from the corner of my eye.

To think that he still went ahead with his plans for her tonight propelled me forward.

That night, for the first time in years, I got lit, chugging bottle after bottle until I was wasted. My mind was so blurred with the alcohol that I could hardly process the ache in my heart. The most romantic thing that Brad had ever done for me was taking me to that two-star restaurant that ended up closing down a few days later because of how poor their service was.

Yet, he brought my sister to this lovely hotel that reeked of luxury and opulence. I guess all the money troubles that he was having in his business were yet another lie meant to deceive me.

I pressed another glass to my lips again, remembering that damn kiss.

Then I got up to dance.

With a pull that felt stronger than gravity, I found myself shifting closer to a man on the dancefloor, each clumsy step wobbling me closer to him until I collapsed in his arms. I know it was wrong, but for some reason, it felt so right. I looked up at him, sparks flew, and then, we kissed.

••••••••

I woke up the next morning on the floor of my best friend's apartment, spread out next to the coffee table in the living room. She was snoring on her couch when I woke her up, both of us groggy and stumbling over each other, trying to find the hangover pills. After that, a shower and a strong cup of coffee, I could feel some semblance of life flowing back to us.

I spent the entire morning with my best friend just chatting and pretending like my whole life had not collapsed.

It was nice, the escape from reality, but those stolen moments ended after I got a text from Brad.

I looked at the text and then at Wendy.

"He asked me when I'm coming home," I said, my voice breaking into a strange laugh as I put my phone and the coffee mug aside. "He asked when I'm coming home, Wendy! What home? The audacity of this man!"

That was no longer my home. In fact, I don't think it has ever really been my home. I just deluded myself into believing it. I felt like such an idiot for not realizing it, the smell of women's perfume he always had on him, working overtime even though there was never enough money to show it, getting irritated over every little thing.

It was screaming affair in every way, but I chose to turn a blind eye to it.

I especially didn't want to believe that of all the women he chose to be with, it had to be my sister.

There was no way to salvage this.

"I'm going to see him, Wendy," I said, covering my face, and I could already guess that she was worried even without saying her expression. "Don't worry, nothing he says will make me get back with him, but I just need to know why he did it. Maybe I'll get closure, maybe not... Then we'll talk about the divorce."

I broke down again, and Wendy hugged me.

Half an hour later, I was dressed in her clothes and parked in front of the house I'd soon have to split.

"Do you need me to come in there with you?"

I chuckled, grateful for my friend's support.

"Thanks, but I have a feeling that there won't be much talking if you come along with me."

Her shoulders slumped, unable to deny it.

"All right, I'll be waiting here. Don't listen to anything he says, no matter what. This is his fault. He ruined your marriage, okay?"

I nodded, stepping out of the car and taking reluctant steps until I was inside the house.

Brad was waiting.

But he wasn't alone.

Next to him, pressed to his side like a kitten, was my younger sister Becky. She saw me and gasped dramatically.

"Emily, you look like a ghost." I could always trust my younger sister for a compliment, but right now was not the time to deal with her. Still standing, I looked at Brad.

"I came to discuss with you, not your mistress."

Brad's face clenched with anger.

"How can you call your sister something so vile?"

I almost broke into that odd laughter again, my entire face twitched, and this indescribable urge to clinch my face and swing it at either one of their faces overwhelmed me.

He still had the audacity to get angry, to fume at me for being just fully upset after they both betrayed me. Wasn't he worried that he had shattered my heart? He was still concerned about how I addressed my sister. I thought I was going to throw up. This was beyond sickening.

If there was any hesitation before, it's immediately dissolved as I said; "Brad, I want a divorce."

Emily's pov

His look of utter confusion might have been mildly amusing if I weren't insanely furious. The lines of stupidification written all over his face told me that in his wildest dreams, he did not expect me to place divorce on the table, even after seeing him pushing his tongue into my younger sister's mouth.

He finally pulls away from Becky; "Sweetheart, why don't you give us some time alone? Go fix yourself a sandwich in the kitchen?"

I watched the two of them with my jaw on the floor. Mixing with my rage was shock. This was not the man I had married; the man I married had no idea how to be sweet or romantic. He was blunt and irritable at every turn, or maybe... Just maybe he was that way with me because he never liked me, not to mention love.

It took all the patience inside of me to wait until Becky was done whining, and finally let just the two of us discuss.

Good!

I don't think I would have been able to handle both at the same time.

"When did it start?" I asked. My voice felt like it was echoing out of an empty shell.

Brad brushed his fingers through his hair excessively, as if he were trying to rake out another lie from his scalp.

"Look, I never meant for it to happen... It started a year ago because of a project at the company. I was really working overtime, and that project just happened to be with Becky's company too... So since it was a partnership, we ended up talking late into the night to distract ourselves from the heavy workload."

.

It was supposed to be an apology, but yet it sounded more like he was recreating the most romantic story in his head.

"... I really don't know what happened. When I noticed that I was attracted to her, I did my best to resist... But you know how our marriage has been for a long time now."

"And whose fault is that?" I screamed at the top of my voice. "I was always trying to talk with you... To plan something with you, to be with you! But you rejected me at every turn, didn't you?"

He looked at me with genuine confusion as if I had just switched into a different language without giving him a heads up. Then he continued talking without even considering what I said.

"Like I was saying before, I really tried to resist, but before I knew it, we started going out together after work hours, and even after the project ended, I still wanted to see her, to be with her. And we only started sleeping together five months ago."

Gosh! I was so shocked! He was so confident saying these words like they were meant to make me feel good.

He said the last part like I was supposed to throw my hands up in bountiful joy.

"I'm so flattered," I sneered at him sarcastically. "You were cheating on me emotionally for an entire year, but only recently decided to start cheating physically. How did I ever get so lucky?"

The veins on his forehead became visible, and he stood upright in one sharp, fluid motion.

"Well, if you were half the woman that your sister was, then maybe I wouldn't have to cheat!"

My throat nearly closed up when he said that. It felt like a sharp sword had been pierced through my side. I staggered to the nearest couch to avoid a heavy fall. He knew that most of my self-esteem issues took root from my parents' blatant favoritism of my younger sister, Becky.

Back then, he promised me that it would never be the case, that I would be his only flower, but his words and actions had never aligned. Yet, I cared about him and kept on with the relationship, hoping that one day, they would.

So stupid.

"I've heard all I need to hear... Let's discuss how we're going to go about the divorce," I said, finally taking a seat on the couch I was just leaning on.

"What do you mean by divorce?"

Hearing that question, two thoughts popped up in my mind. Firstly, I married someone whose IQ was below room temperature, and secondly, he was testing the last bit of my patience before I'd crash out.

"Do I have to get the dictionary and explain what divorce is to you? Fine, I want to legally separate from you, Braden Winchester Junior," I said his full name with disgust tainting my lips. "Since it's clear that it's my sister who makes you happy, then there is no need for me to keep wasting my time anymore, and yours as well."

He started giving me this funny look like there was a horn growing on the side of my head.

"Why would we have to divorce just because I made a mistake?" He looked like a confused toddler who had just spoken his first words, except he wasn't a toddler. He was a full-grown man in his late 20s and should have known better.

"No, Brad... The mistake, the true mistake, was me ever getting married to you when I knew deep down that you hated me to your core." I reached for the Ring on my finger, and his eyes bulged out.

"What are you doing?" He screamed, but I ignored him, tightening my grip on the ring as I twisted it back and forward. It was a hard fight, but I came out victorious, pulling it off my finger.

It fell on the floor, and I didn't bother picking it up. I passed it towards him with my foot, watching his every reaction.

I stood up to leave, swinging my hand back and forth because it hadn't felt lighter in years.

"Emily, you can't just..."

I slammed the door behind me as I was already tired of listening to his crap story.

Leaving home wasn't a big deal. Where do I go?

That was the real issue.