Married to Travis Armstrong for three years.

He was 35.

I was not yet 21, just starting my senior year in college.

I hadn't decided if I wanted to be a full-time housewife when I overheard him casually chatting with his business associates:

"Chelsea, apart from being young, doesn’t bring much to the table."

"Skyler is so much more sophisticated."

"I'm starting to regret marrying. Keeping a younger girlfriend would be cheaper. A divorce now would be a huge loss."

Without hesitation, I handed him the divorce papers.

When he saw the stark terms indicating I was leaving without any claims, he let out a long sigh of relief.

He then feigned generosity, saying, "I'll transfer two million dollars to you as compensation."

I refused with a smile, "I'm still young. I can afford to take risks."

What Travis didn't know was that my brother, Garrett, had been the one supporting him in the New York City business scene. All these years, his entry into elite circles was solely because of Garrett’s backing.

Divorcing me was just the beginning of his losses.

---

During my senior year internship, I thought I’d get a glimpse of my handsome husband more often.

I boldly applied for a position at Travis’s company. As a low-level intern, I kept a low profile, so much so that Travis wasn’t even aware I was there. I made sure not to disturb or distract him.

Occasionally, I overheard interns gossiping about Travis. I listened quietly and never joined in.

"Mr. Armstrong is really handsome. At 35, he's in his prime."

"Too bad he's married, and his wife is apparently just some nobody."

"Why can't I have that kind of luck..."

When I was 18, Travis had been upfront about his intentions from the start. He proposed immediately, with a ring. I responded with equal enthusiasm. After a year of dating, we got married. It was impulsive, exhilarating, sweet, and filled with happiness.

He had given me a whirlwind, fairy-tale romance, a thrilling love that swept me off my feet. If I hadn't joined his company as an intern, I might never have uncovered his secrets.

Skyler Gardner.

Travis's secretary.

Seductive, beautiful, the epitome of a mature woman.

She frequently traveled with Travis for work and joined him at social events. She managed the company’s affairs skillfully, sometimes even showing more acumen than Travis himself.

Before they knew Travis was married, everyone at the company assumed Skyler was the boss’s lady.

In the cafeteria, as I grabbed lunch, I overheard veteran employees who had worked with Skyler gripe and gossip.

"Travis has no clue how stunning Skyler is. He doesn’t appreciate her."

"Skyler made a big move leaving her executive role at a public company to become his secretary."

"Just watch, once the excitement wears off, Travis will divorce and end up with Skyler."

Rumors were rampant, but I brushed them off.

After all, the passion between Travis and me played out every night.

Until one evening, at a company event, Skyler got drunk and confessed her feelings for Travis in front of everyone.

Calling it a confession is an understatement; it was more like an ultimatum for Travis to make a choice.

Skyler asked if she held a place in his heart.

Travis stayed silent for a long time.

Skyler pressed again, "If I mean nothing to you, why won’t you approve my resignation?"

Travis, looking strained, finally replied with one word, "Yes."

Then he gazed at Skyler with intensity, "You matter to me, I can't do without you, which is why I cannot approve your resignation. Is that clear?"

Skyler laughed, downed a glass of whiskey, and walked out with her purse.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Travis followed her out.

The gathering was attended by colleagues who had known Travis and Skyler for years. I wasn’t there, but my lively friend Kamari, who loved gossip, recorded the scene and sent it to me privately.

Kamari texted me, "Do you think something will happen between Mr. Armstrong and Ms. Gardner tonight?"

I replied, "Probably not...right?"

"They're both adults, known each other for ages, shared deep feelings, drank, confessed—do you really think nothing will happen?"

I firmly typed back, "Travis is married; he should know his boundaries. Besides, Skyler doesn’t need to be the other woman!"

"You're probably right. But whatever happens, we’ll find out tomorrow."

I didn’t understand what Kamari meant by "we’ll find out tomorrow."

But the moment I exited our chat, I got my answer.

Travis messaged me, saying he wouldn’t be home that night because of an impromptu work meeting.

A tremor ran through my heart.

I immediately called him.

At first, no answer.

I dialed several more times before he picked up.

"Sweetheart, my phone was on silent; I didn't hear it. What's up?"

I suppressed my emotions, my fingernails digging into my skin.

"Are you really not coming home tonight?"

"Yeah, there's a gathering. Everyone’s here. I can't leave, hope you understand."

I clenched my jaw and persisted, "Are there any women at this gathering?"

He paused, chuckled, "No, are you checking up on me now? Want me to video call you to prove my innocence?"

As he spoke, I heard the rustling—a sound of expensive dress shirts brushing against hotel bedsheets.

In the past, when our love was wild, that sound was familiar.

A muffled groan escaped from Travis’s lips.

The knot in my heart unraveled in that instant.

After sharing so many intimate moments in three years, I knew all too well what that groan signified.

It was the release of emotion after intense pleasure.

I doubted even Travis noticed that detail.

Good.

I didn’t need to catch him cheating.

He'd already crossed that line.

I forced a bitter smile, "No need for a video, I’d rather not blind myself."

"Have fun. I'm going to bed."

My heart felt dead, ready to hang up.

Travis's voice came through again, hoarse and low, "Sweetheart, we sealed a big deal tonight. Starting tomorrow, everyone has to work overtime. I might be late. Don't wait up for dinner."

Is it working overtime on business or with Skyler?

It no longer mattered to me.

The abrupt end to the phone call left me tossing and turning through the night. Sporting noticeable dark circles, I dragged myself into the office the next morning, still in a daze. Kamari approached me eagerly, buzzing with the latest office gossip.

"Something definitely went down between Travis and Skyler last night," she said, eyes wide with excitement.

I frowned slightly, uncertain if I wanted to dive into the details.

"This morning, Travis showed up looking like he slept in those clothes. Same suit from yesterday, all wrinkled up. He obviously didn’t go home," she continued, clearly proud of her observation skills.

I nodded, too tired to do much more than acknowledge her.

"And Skyler was running late today, too. She came in all aglow, which is so unlike her usual efficient self. It's like she's transformed overnight."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"She's more vibrant, more alluring. You'll have to see for yourself," Kamari replied, her words carefully chosen.

When I glanced up, I saw Skyler striding in wearing a sleek pencil skirt. I recognized it immediately—the very skirt I had my eye on while shopping with Travis. It hadn’t been available in my size, so we’d pre-ordered it to be delivered to Travis.

Looks like it arrived, but it landed on someone else’s doorstep.

Skyler, clearly in high spirits, offered to treat everyone to coffee, asking what we’d like to drink. Cheers erupted around the office, but I sat quietly in my corner, wrestling with a knot of emotions. I threw myself into work, hoping to distract myself from the churn, but it was in vain.

By lunchtime, I was still in a fog. As I picked at my takeout meal, Skyler waltzed by with a fancy lunch spread and walked into Travis’s office. She stayed there the entire afternoon, only emerging as the day wound down.

Kamari clicked her tongue in frustration. “The nerve of her! Skyler could have picked anyone, but she went for a married man. Little Jones, who sits closer to the executive office, said she practically jumped into Travis’s lap, as if the office were their private getaway.”

She sent me a photo that Little Jones had discreetly snapped—Skyler was indeed perched on Travis’s knee, feeding him in a way that left no room for speculation.

“I can't imagine how shattered Travis’s wife would be if she saw this,” Kamari sighed.

Davis, our manager, frowned from across the room. “It’s their business, not ours.”

Kamari, missing the nuance, chuckled, “You’re right. She sure plays the ‘mistress’ role well.”

Davis looked displeased, dropping a stack of reports onto Kamari’s desk. “If you’ve got so much time to chat, finish these before you leave.”

Kamari was startled. I messaged her quietly: “Davis and Skyler go way back; he's on her side. Best not to comment.”

Kamari replied with a crying emoji. I reassured her: “I’ll help you with those reports. Let’s finish quickly, and I’ll treat you to some pulled pork.”

She perked up at that.

That evening, after wrapping up our late work, we were poised to head out for pulled pork when Davis stopped us. “You’ve both worked hard. Let’s grab a bite together.”

He didn’t leave room for refusal, shepherding us to a nearby restaurant, followed by a detour to a karaoke bar. We weren’t thrilled, but as interns, we didn’t have the luxury to object.

In a dimly lit corner, we lost ourselves in a mobile game, barely noticing the room filling up. It wasn’t until I heard a familiar voice that I looked up to see Travis, surrounded by industry bigwigs, taking the spotlight.

They started discussing projects, and soon the conversation drifted into personal territory—stories of kids, spouses, and, inevitably, affairs followed.

“I saw Skyler post on Instagram about finding true love. What's the story? Did you and Skyler finally get together?” someone teased.

My ears perked up involuntarily.

Travis replied in a measured tone, “You don’t understand the situation. I had no choice. Skyler was insisting. If I didn’t agree, she’d leave. And she's crucial to the company—or, rather, crucial to me.”

“And Skyler’s okay with being the other woman? Watch out, Travis, this could end badly.”

“Yeah, remember the effort you put into marrying that young girl? We all saw it. Forget the affairs—if your wife finds out, it could get ugly.”

“Or maybe not. Skyler doesn’t mind, so why should she? That young wife of yours has lived in comfort for years. Going back to a modest life might be unbearable for her. But she enjoys the benefits of being Mrs. Armstrong, so she won’t stir the pot.”

The consensus was that as long as Travis kept Skyler content, his wife would remain oblivious, and they toasted his double achievement.

Kamari scrunched her face in distaste and whispered, “Ugh,” in my ear.

“But you know,” she added, “as much as Travis is being a sleaze, they have a point. That girl he married isn’t even done with school, right? No family, no connections. Causing trouble wouldn’t help her. What do you think?”

I agreed, “She won’t stir up trouble. People prefer to keep things smooth these days.”

Even when it comes to divorce.

Just then, Travis set his drink down and spoke, “True, Chelsea’s got nothing but her youth. Compared to her, Skyler’s more refined. But who knows how long Skyler’s patience will last? I regret getting married—it would’ve been cheaper to keep a young girl on the side. A divorce would cost too much now.”

Ah, so he was counting the losses.

Of course. Legally, we’re married, Travis and I. A divorce would mean splitting his post-marriage assets.

If that’s what Travis wants, fine. I can walk away with nothing. But he’ll have to bear the cost of my departure.