I Left During His Honeymoon

When Eric Sutton—my charming CEO husband—found out I handed a million-dollar project to his assistant Vivien Cheney, he figured his three months of radio silence had finally broken me.

Suddenly, he's all, "Let's go to Iceland for our honeymoon!"

Vivien heard and threw a fit. Threatened to quit. Classic.

Eric, who treated her like royalty, freaked out. After three days of begging, he bailed on the trip—said it was for "work"—then handed her my ticket.

Later, he shrugged it off. "Romance's petty. Work comes first. You're my wife. You get it, right?"

Right.

I just stared at Vivien's new post: a couples selfie—cheek to cheek, hands shaped like a heart. I didn't say a word. Just nodded.

Eric thought I was finally playing the role: calm, supportive, mature. Promised an even better honeymoon when he got back.

Too bad I'd already quit.

Too bad he'd already signed the divorce papers.

We were done.

On day two of Eric and Vivien's little "honeymoon," I wrapped up my handovers and hit HR to make my resignation official.

Not even ten minutes later—ding. Approved.

By Eric, of course.

"Guess Mr. Sutton couldn't wait to drop her. At least she knew when to back off."

"Yeah, sticking around would've just made it messy. Wonder what she's gonna do now."

"Why do we care? We're out here scraping by on scraps. She's his wife. She could quit and nap for a year, still be loaded."

As I packed my stuff, they stared—barely hiding the smug looks.

Nothing new.

Everyone knew Vivien and I weren't exactly besties. And Eric? My loving husband? Always took her side—sometimes straight-up embarrassed me in front of everyone just to keep her happy.

So yeah, the office turned on me fast, all desperate to suck up to her.

I let out a dry laugh. "Sorry to disappoint. I'm not quitting out of heartbreak—I'm leveling up. Just got hired at double the pay, killer benefits."

Didn't even glance at their bitter faces. Grabbed my stuff and walked out.

Then—of course—Eric called the second I hit the sidewalk.

I'd been rehearsing how to break the news, but the second I picked up, he goes,

"I sent you a file. Finish it and send it back within an hour."

So yeah—he still had no clue I'd quit.

I almost laughed. Opened the file.

It was that same project I'd handed over to Vivien.

Classic.

She got the credit. I did the work.

And when it crashed and burned? I took the hit.

At first, I said no. But Eric kept pushing. When I didn't cave, he hit me with his favorite move—silence. Days of it.

Even before we got married, my parents drilled it in: relationships need compromise.

I didn't want us to fall apart, so I gave in. Over and over. Thought maybe someday he'd get it—see everything I'd done for him.

But this time? Just to boost Vivien, he picked a fight and iced me out for three whole months.

Even when I was in the hospital with a 104 fever, he wouldn't glance my way. All he cared about was ripping that million-dollar project I spent a month landing right out of my hands.

That's when I finally checked out—for real.