I've been married to Ethan for seven years. Seven years of waking early to pack his lunches, ironing his shirts, making sure dinner was always hot when he came home. I forgot who I was before I became his wife. His mother's maid and his daughter's ghost.

Today I made a mistake.

I thought to myself, it was finally time to feel alive and feel truly married. So I turned to Ethan and asked him about our anniversary.

I asked him if we could celebrate our anniversary with a small dinner. Just us.

“Dinner?” He didn’t look up from his laptop. “What for?”

I paused, uncertain. “It’s been seven years. I just thought—maybe somewhere quiet. I already checked the menu at—”

He waved a hand. “Enough. You think we have money for that kind of nonsense? You want me to waste cash so you can pretend you're someone else for one night?”

I opened my mouth, but the words sat like stones on my tongue.

“You don’t even contribute,” he said, shaking his head. “You sit in this house all day. The least you could do is not spend what little I bring in.”

"I didn’t mean—"

He slammed the laptop shut. "You never do. But here we are."

My hands trembled, but I forced myself to smile. “I can cook. Maybe just something special tonight?” The tears formed in my eyes as I spoke, wishing he could at least give my idea a chance, but his next words broke my heart further.

He scoffed. “Special? Since when do you make anything special? Every day it’s the same bland food. I only eat it because I’m too tired to complain.”

The door creaked open behind us.

“I heard shouting,” his mother’s voice sliced through the hallway. “What has she done this time?”

“She wants a fancy dinner for our anniversary,” Ethan said dryly. “Like we’re in some fairytale.”

His mother clicked her tongue as she stepped into the room. “Are you serious, Avery? Have you looked in the mirror lately? You want a dinner? How about you lose some weight first?”

I shrank back, but she wasn’t finished.

“My son would have married that girl from his college. The one with the business degree. Remember her, Ethan? Anna. Pretty. Sharp. Her parents owned a chain of clinics. You chose... this.”

Ethan chuckled.

“I was young,” he said. “Didn’t think straight.”

I stood up, feeling the sting creep behind my eyes. “I was just trying to do something nice. For us.” I whimpered, wishing I never said anything in the first place.

His mother scoffed. “Nice? Then clean this place properly. There’s dust on the hallway shelf. That’s what you’re good for.”

I clenched my fists. “I clean every day.”

“Clearly not well enough,” she snapped. “And look at your clothes. Who wears that kind of thing at home? You should be embarrassed.”

I backed away, heart pounding.

What else did I have to wear? If not for this same rag she was talking about. Her son made sure I lived like a maid in my own matrimonial home and now I'm being blamed, when I was not being taken care of. I knocked over the vase near the table. It shattered on the floor, pieces skittering across the tiles.

Ethan swore under his breath. “Are you serious, Avery?”

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course you didn’t. You never mean to. But you still ruin everything.”

I dropped to my knees, hands fumbling to pick up the shards. One piece cut into my finger, drawing blood. I didn’t stop. I kept collecting.

Neither of them moved.

“Maybe if Anna had been your wife,” his mother said coldly, “she wouldn’t be crawling on the floor like a dog right now.”

I bit my lip so hard I tasted iron. My vision blurred, but I blinked fast. I wouldn’t give them tears.

Later, I made dinner in silence. His favorite—stir-fried prawns with garlic rice. I served it quietly, setting the plate before him like always. Waiting patiently for his reaction. I stood like a murderer about to be hanged to death, I stood like I was just a mere servant standing before the king.

He took one bite and pushed it away.

“Tastes like cardboard.”

I stood there, watching Ethan push the plate away like it was something filthy.

“You didn’t even try,” he said. “This is the worst garlic rice I’ve ever had. Are you punishing me or just lazy?”

I swallowed hard. My hands gripped the edge of the table. Why does Ethan have to be so hard? Why does he treat me this way?

“I—I’ll make something else,” I said quickly, trying to lift the plate.

He slammed his fork down. “Don’t bother. You’ve been in the kitchen all day and this is what you made? You had one job, Avery. One.”

The tears welled up in my eyes.

Not the grocery lists. Not the scrubbing. Not the hours spent packing his lunches just right or hemming the clothes his mother said were “too cheap.” Not the years I gave up my own dreams to raise a daughter who now barely calls me mom. One job. Like I was born to serve and still couldn’t get that right.

I blinked fast as my vision blurred. I didn’t want them to see. I didn’t want to cry—not again.

“I’ll fix it,” I whispered. “I just forgot the salt.”

My mother-in-law suddenly barged in, a sweet feminine smell that made my stomach churned followed her.

Then I saw her– Anna, the perfect one that has always been compared to me. The one that was supposed to be Ethan's choice, his perfect choice walking behind her triumphantly.

The golden one.

The one their mother always said was “how a woman should be.” The one who acted and looked rich, had two nannies, and showed up only when it was convenient—usually to show me how much more she was.

“Hello everyone!” She waved her hand and I saw the expensive bracelet she wore. The exact type I had told Ethan, a few days ago, that I wanted. Instead, he had gotten it for her, and even made her wear it to spite me the more.

“I just dropped off the gift for Mom’s retirement,” she said, flashing a Rolls Royce car key in my face. “Mom deserves just the best.”

Their mother perked up immediately. “Oh, Anna, you shouldn’t have! Let me see it!”

“It’s just a Rolls Royce,” she said with a little laugh. “But I thought it was time she drove something real.”

Ethan chuckled and stood to greet her. “You’re spoiling her.”

I stayed where I was, holding the ruined dinner in my hands, watching the scene unfold before me with blurry eyes.

Anna’s eyes landed on me. “Avery, you okay?”

Before I could answer, their mother sighed loudly. “She messed up dinner again. We were just about to order out.”

Anna didn’t miss a beat. “Great! I’ve been craving that new Italian place anyway. My treat. To celebrate Mom.”

Ethan nodded. “That sounds perfect. Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

Then he turned toward me and said it so casually, it nearly knocked the air from my lungs: “You stay here. You can finish this if you want.”

I blinked. “I—”

“She doesn’t like eating out,” his mother cut in. “Too noisy, too expensive. Isn’t that right, Avery?”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The cruelty had left me speechless and I just stood there.

They were already heading to the door. Ethan didn’t even glance back.

They left laughing, voices trailing into the night.

I stood alone in the dining room, holding a plate no one would eat. The food was still warm, but everything inside me felt cold.

I sat down, picked up a fork, and forced myself to chew.

It was bland.

Too much garlic, not enough heart.

But that wasn’t why I couldn’t taste anything.

I looked around this house I’ve cleaned a thousand times. The curtains I sewed. The chairs I polished. The birthdays I hosted with handmade decorations. The nights I stayed awake waiting for Ethan to come home, pretending not to smell the perfume on his collar.

But what did it amount to?

I wasn’t a wife. Not really. I never was.

I was a fixture. A mute background. Their plaything.

The tears came quietly this time. No drama. Just soft, endless drops falling onto my untouched plate.

I washed the dishes. I swept the floor. I folded the napkins just the way his mother liked them.

Then I went upstairs and stood in front of the mirror.

I stared at the woman looking back—tired eyes, stained apron, a smear of sauce on her sleeve.

I whispered to her, “You used to be someone.”

And maybe—just maybe—she still was.

I woke up to the soft creak of the door.

Not the front one—this one came from the study. I sat up, heart thudding. Ethan had returned late last night, but I hadn’t heard him come to bed. I tiptoed across the hallway and peered in.

There he was. Standing close to Anna, her laugh low and warm like a song only he could hear.

She held one of the ties I had ironed yesterday, sliding it gently around his neck. He didn’t pull away. He leaned in.

They didn’t see me.

I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. I just stood there, like a ghost in my own home, while my husband let another woman wrap his tie like it was hers to fix.

It had been folded neatly on my side of the closet. I had planned to wear it today since the foreign investors in Ethan's company were coming and I needed to create a great impression. It was the last thing I bought before Ethan stopped giving me "personal" expenses.

I walked into the kitchen where Anna stood by the sink, sipping coffee from the mug with the rose print. My mug.

And there she was, laughing, swirling a spoon in her coffee, radiant in it. The fabric clung to her perfectly, clinched at the waist, just as I had imagined it on myself.

The one I had hidden in the back of the closet. The one I bought with the last of my flower money—the money I saved over three years without touching a cent from Ethan. It was my dress. My secret splurge. I had never worn it, not even once.

My breath caught in my throat. I stepped forward. “Anna,” I said, voice tighter than I intended, “where did you get that dress?”

She turned, smiling like she hadn’t heard the tension. “Oh, this?” She looked down at herself with a little twirl. “It was just hanging there. I thought it was new and… unworn. Ethan said I could take it.”

My heart dropped. “He gave it to you?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “He said it didn’t look like something you’d wear anyway.”

The corners of her lips lifted. Not in apology. In amusement.

“Oh,” she added, gesturing to the table, “Ethan said to make sure you prepared something nice for tonight. He’s hosting the investors here. We want the place to look perfect. You understand.”

We.

I nodded.

I didn’t respond. I turned and walked away, locking myself in the laundry room.

Inside, I pressed my palms against the washer’s cold surface, steadying my breath.

That dress was mine.

I’d watered those damn marigolds in the sun, clipped roses with blistered hands, braided tiny bouquets with twine and ribbon, and sold them at the corner market in the summer heat. Three years of saving. For one moment. One thing that was just for me.

And now… now she wore it like a trophy.

____

You know you weren’t supposed to do that, right?” I stormed into the study, the rage choking in my throat. Ethan looked up, startled.

He was adjusting his collar, fingers brushing where Anna’s hands had just been.

“What are you talking about?” he said, voice calm, too calm.

“The dress,” I snapped. “The crimson one I kept in the back of the closet. You told her she could wear it?”

His brows knit together in mock confusion. “It was just a dress, Avery.”

“No. It was mine. I bought it with my own money. You knew that.”

“Your money?” He scoffed, stepping away like the conversation was beneath him. “Don’t start this again.”

I clenched my fists. “It was the last thing I bought before you cut off my allowance, Ethan. You think I didn’t notice when you started ‘reallocating’ funds? When you said I didn’t need extras? That everything should go toward the household?”

“You don’t work, Avery,” he said flatly. “Everything in this house is bought with my money. You act like I owe you luxuries when you contribute nothing.”

Nothing.

The word hit me like a slap.

I had raised his daughter. Cooked his meals. Smiled in front of his family. Nursed his sick mother. I had spent seven years holding this family together, and now I was ‘nothing.’

He adjusted his watch, already done with the conversation. “Don’t make a scene,” he muttered. “We have the investor event today. Just stay upstairs if you’re upset.”

Investor event.

Right. The one I had helped prepare for all week. The guest list, the table settings, the menus. He had handed it all to Anna last night without a word, acting like it had always been her show to run.

That evening, the house buzzed with unfamiliar voices. Suits. Champagne. Laughter echoing through the hall.

I stayed back, like he asked. Watched from the staircase as Anna floated through the crowd, graceful and smiling.

That night, I cooked the dishes I knew they loved. Set the table with the china I was only allowed to use on special occasions. Dressed in a plain blouse, the closest thing I could find to decent after the one I had prepared was destroyed.

Ethan didn’t notice.

He came home with a dozen guests trailing behind him, Anna clinging to his side like the hostess of this house. Everyone greeted her warmly, laughed at her jokes, complimented her earrings.

No one saw me.

I poured the wine. Served the food. Smiled like a waitress trying to earn tips.

At the end of the night, one of the guests, a kind-eyed older man, turned to me and said, “You must be the maid. You’re quite good at this.”

Before I could respond, Anna chuckled and leaned in. “Oh, she’s more than that. Avery takes care of everything here. She’s like… family.”

That word. Family. As if it was supposed to comfort me. As if it didn’t burn.

And then I heard it.

From the far end of the room, Ethan raised his glass and said, “I want to thank everyone here for believing in our vision. And I’d like to take a moment to recognize someone very special.”

He turned, extending a hand.

My heart raced in excitement. This is finally my moment, I muttered to myself as I took a step forward, waiting for my name to be called. I wiped my hand over my apron excitedly, stretching my neck to have a closer look at Ethan who didn't smile at my direction.

“To the woman who’s helped me through every challenge, who’s stood by me during the darkest times. My partner in every way—Anna.”

Partner.

Anna stepped forward, cheeks flushed with pride. There was a pause. A smile. Then he added, “And as of this week, my fiancée.”

I didn’t hear the applause.

I didn’t hear the cheers or the clinking glasses.

Just the sound of my own breath catching in my throat.

Fiancée.

My vision blurred, but I couldn’t look away. I squeezed the ends of my apron as hot tears formed behind my eyes. Why Ethan? Why?

He hadn’t just erased me. He had rewritten me—as if I never existed. As if I was just a caretaker who had outlived her use.

I backed away from the stair rail, hands trembling. Upstairs, everything felt too loud. The music. The laughter. The betrayal.

I allowed the tears to fall, soaking my chest. In front of everyone, Ethan denied me. Placed Anna above me like he'd always done. Made a fool out of me.

I sat on the bed and opened my drawer. Inside was the folder I had hidden months ago—divorce papers I never signed.

Until now.