Derrick walked out of the bathroom, towel slung around his neck, and flopped down next to me. "What are you spacing out for?"

I blinked up at him.

At thirty, he looked even better—sharper, more put-together.

People used to envy us.

"Audrey, how'd you score a guy like Derrick?"

I used to think I was lucky too.

Lucky to have someone who loved me like that.

But now I knew—the guy who always put me first, who handed over company shares like it was nothing, could still cheat.

"It's nothing," I said. "Someone called you earlier. I picked up, but they didn't say anything. Local number. Maybe a friend? Here."

I handed him the phone, eyes locked on him.

He took it like it was no big deal. "Probably a wrong number. Don't stress."

But I saw it—that little finger twitch on the screen.

I knew that move.

He was lying.

"Babe, why don't you go rest?" he said. "I just remembered a file at work I forgot to finish."

"Right now?"

"Yeah. It's urgent."

He was already set on leaving. I just nodded. Told him to be careful.

Derrick grabbed his coat and bolted.

I dropped onto the couch, eyes glued to the door.

What kind of urgent document needs the CEO at midnight? He didn't even try to make it believable.

A bitter smile crept in.

Maybe he thought I loved him too much to ever catch on.

I bit my lip, grabbed my phone, and called a friend—a private investigator. Asked him to tail Derrick.

That night, just like I feared, Derrick never came home.

***

Next morning, eyes sore and puffy, I grabbed my phone.

A string of messages from my friend lit up the screen:

[Take a look at this, Audrey.]

[If this isn't a misunderstanding, you'll wanna keep this.]

Pain shot through my chest.

There was a video attached.

My breath caught. Hands started to shake.

That video felt like Pandora's box—one tap and everything would fall apart.

Hands shaking, I hit play.

Derrick's car was parked on the curb. A woman slid into the passenger seat.

Sabrina.

The camera zoomed in.

Inside, they were all over each other—kissing, gasping, totally wrapped up in it.

The audio made it worse. Every sound stabbed me.

Felt like my heart was being shredded.

I don't even know how long it went on, but eventually, they climbed out.

Sabrina latched onto Derrick's hand, smirking. "Mr. Stratton, you finally showed. Not getting any at home? That desperate, huh?"

His voice dropped, thick with lust. "I haven't touched my wife."

He grabbed her by the neck, whispering, "She's nothing compared to you. You're naughty."

Sabrina looked thrilled—didn't even flinch at the insult. Just pressed closer. "Well then, Mr. Stratton, you're all mine."

"Don't cry tonight," he said.

Then they slipped into the apartment building.

The video cut off.

And me?

I felt nothing.

No tears. No heartbreak.

I yanked open the cabinet, grabbed a bottle, and took a long swig.

Burned all the way down—made my eyes sting.

I sank to the floor, trying to make sense of it. Why would Derrick do this?

I didn't have an answer.

But one thing was clear—this marriage was done.

That afternoon, once I sobered up, I hit up a lawyer and got the divorce papers ready.

Good thing we had no kids. Just assets. Cutting him off would be clean.

When I got home, Derrick called—said he was heading out on a business trip.

That night, I got an anonymous message.

A flood of pics.

Derrick and Sabrina.

Hot tub at a lakeside cabin. Skiing together like some cheesy couple's ad.

Didn't take a genius—she sent them.

Still, I felt nothing.

We'd done all that before. Over ten years, we hit Rivera, Paryss, even chased the northern lights in Eirland.

Every trip, Derrick said the same thing—he wanted me by his side to see the world.

Now he was doing the same with someone else.

Truth is, we'd been together forever. Teenagers to now. A whole decade.

Maybe he just got bored of me. Guess that makes sense.

I told myself that. Tried to make it hurt less.

But it still ached.

Of course it did.

He was the only guy I ever loved.

***

Derrick finally showed up on day three.

Brought a gift.

Classic move—a fancy diamond necklace.

Anytime he missed dinner or ghosted for work, he'd pop in with something shiny. Called it a peace offering.

Said it made up for being MIA. That he had to earn me back.

I used to smile, act touched.

Now? I couldn't even fake it. Just muttered, "I like it."

He didn't notice.

Or maybe he was just too wiped from playing house with Sabrina.

"You like it, that's all that matters. I'm gonna shower," he said.

He disappeared into the bathroom.

By the time he came out, I was already in bed, facing the wall.

Silent.

He wrapped his arms around me.

Same bed, totally different worlds.

***

Then came my birthday.

Derrick threw his usual party—surprises, cake, the works. Picture-perfect.

Our friends laughed, clapped, gave their usual congrats.

But just as I was about to cut the cake, I caught one of Derrick's friends talking to him in Garmenian.

"You cut off the side piece yet? You were with her nonstop. Surprised you didn't drop dead. Your wife cool with that?"

Derrick let out a lazy puff of smoke. "I haven't touched Audrey in months. Sabrina's insane in bed—I'm not done playing with her yet. Sucks she got pregnant. Audrey doesn't want kids, so I gave Sabrina some cash. She'll give birth overseas."

My fists clenched. Tears slipped down without a sound.

Derrick glanced over. "What's wrong?"

I smiled. "The cake you made is amazing. I'm really touched."

In that moment, I hated that I understood Garmenian.

Derrick grinned when he saw me like that.

He went in for a hug, tried to kiss my cheek—I turned my face.

I was already done with him, just wasn't the time to blow it all up.

We were grown. I still had my pride.

So I lied. "Emergency at the hospital. I gotta run."

His smile faltered.

"But it's your birthday. Can't you chill for once?"

I reached out, smoothed his brow like old times. "It's fine. Just remembered—I left your gift at work."

Our anniversary and my birthday fell on the same day. We'd made this dumb pact to swap gifts every year.

I always designed him a suit. This year was no different.

Before the cheating bomb dropped, I'd already drawn it up. Took me three months to finish.

Derrick sighed but gave me that soft look. "Can't ever win with you. At least blow out the candles first—I made ice cream cake. It's gonna melt."

I nodded.

He grinned, pulled me over. We blew them out together.

Then he yelled, "I wanna be with Audrey forever! I'll stick by her side for life!"

Cue the crowd going wild.

"Derrick, give it a rest! You're making us all jealous."

"Almost ten years and still this cute? Ugh, I can't."

I stiffened.

Not ten.

Eleven.

This was year eleven.

And he'd already checked out.

I slipped my hand out of his and kept it calm. "I'll grab your gift. It's late—I'm not coming back. Enjoy the party."

Then I walked.

After finishing up at the hospital, I headed back to the clubhouse with the suit.

Eleven years. Wrapped up. Done.

Felt like the final page.

I hit the stairs and spotted Sabrina slipping into the private room.

My fingers clenched around the gift bag.

Seriously, Derrick? Couldn't even wait?

Already had her on speed dial?

It hit me like a sucker punch—sharp, breath-stealing pain.

I leaned against the wall, eyes burning.

Pulled out my phone.

"Zara, I'm in. I'm joining the research team."

Our hospital had this top-secret program way out northwest—only the best docs got picked for a brain tumor study.

My dad died from one. Mom followed not long after—grief just crushed her.

That's why I went into medicine. Beating brain cancer became my thing.

But once you signed up, there was no backing out.

Minimum commitment? A few years. Max? Over ten.

I'd stalled before—couldn't bring myself to leave Derrick.

Zara, my best friend and a fellow doctor in the program, didn't hold back. Called me love-blind.

So when I suddenly said yes, she was floored.

"Wait, for real? What happened to can't-live-without-Mr.-Stratton?"

I bit my lip. "Guess I figured it out. We're supposed to live for ourselves, right?"

I didn't tell her what Derrick did—she would've lost it.

After we hung up, I stayed there, pressed to the wall, trying to catch my breath.