Love Replacement

On our seventh anniversary, my husband Richard Cox left me to spend the night with his first love, Nina Baxter.

I discarded the well-prepared dinner that was already cold and sat in silence all night.

The next day, Nina apologized to me, saying if she had known it was our anniversary, she wouldn't have kept him so long.

"But thank you for looking after Richard all these years."

Richard stood silently by her side.

Later, I stepped aside for Nina and decided to leave.

Richard chased after me like a madman, his voice trembling as he pleaded, "Sammy, stay. Can we go back to how we used to be?"

Then I found out I was pregnant.

On the day of our seventh anniversary, I had prepared flowers and a cake, eager to surprise Richard with the news, but he never came home.

All the dishes had gone cold.

I called him over a dozen times, but no one answered.

Growing increasingly worried, I decided to take a chance and head to the lounge that Richard used to frequent.

He had a private room on the top floor there, which was reserved for business meetings.

I drove straight to the top floor.

As the elevator doors slid open gently, I beheld Richard standing just outside the room. His eyes were fixed on the woman facing him, his gaze filled with both tenderness and a deep, yearning longing.

The woman wore a sleeveless black dress, elegantly styled and perfectly tailored.

I leaned forward to get a better look at her face and froze in place.

It was a face I would never forget.

It was Richard's dream girl, the woman he could never forget-Nina.

I had seen a photo of Nina in Richard's study. She was probably in her teens then, wearing a white dress, looking like an innocent princess.

Richard had his arm around her. They seemed like inseparable childhood sweethearts, the ideal pair.

I should have turned and left, but I couldn't help dialing Richard's number once more.

The ringtone echoed, and he glanced at his phone, frowning as he hung up.

"If you have something to do, go ahead," Nina urged him.

"It's nothing."

I leaned against the elevator wall, tears streaming down my face.

After all, what was a seventh anniversary compared to a reunion with his dream girl?

I don't know how long I stood there, but eventually, I saw Richard and his group coming downstairs, Nina's slender arm linked through his.

Ms. Taylor, Richard's assistant, approached to report, mentioning me, "Sammy, she also... "

Richard seemed terrified to mention me in front of Nina and interrupted her.

"Why bring her up? Just a cheap knock-off."

Hearing that, I was rooted to the spot.

The city was always dry, but at that moment, I suddenly smelled a salty, damp scent.

It was as though I'd been cast into a surging sea of tears, engulfed by an overwhelming tempest of emotions. Paralyzed, I could do nothing but stand there, waiting for that inevitable moment, as if awaiting the end.

They drove away, while I remained where I was.

I suddenly remembered the day I met Richard seven years ago, also at this club, on a similar night in Spring.

Back then, I was still studying at the music academy, newly signed and tricked by a shady agent into accompanying guests.

A man, embarrassed by my rejection, poured a bottle of wine over my head and, unsatisfied, raised the bottle to strike me.

I was soaked, his hand around my neck, unable to even cry for help.

The room was teeming with entitled young people who were used to having things go their way. Smashing one of them with a bottle was scarcely considered a serious matter, and for them, taking a life might as well have been no more significant than crushing an ant.

Everyone was just watching the show.

Just as I was in despair, a deep voice came from the corner.

"That's enough."

The man stopped instantly but didn't let go of me, instead turning to smile ingratiatingly.

"Mr. Cox, this chick doesn't know how to show respect to us. Let me teach her."

"I said that's enough!"

The room fell silent for a moment.

The man released me immediately, lowering his head to apologize.

I couldn't stop coughing, raising my head to look towards the corner at the man who had saved me.

He sat there, legs crossed, dressed in black, with no one beside him, idly swirling the ice in his glass with his fingers.

Soon, the room returned to its lively chaos.

I was taken to change clothes, and someone smartly brought me to the man's side.

In that room, everyone was either a second or third-generation rich kid, but even among them, there were hierarchies.

They all called him "Mr. Cox."

That was the first time I met Richard.

He took me out of the room.

He didn't touch me, just asked for my address and had his driver take me back to school.

A few days later, the agent found me, saying the contract was terminated, smiling obsequiously.

"Sammy, you should have told me that you had connections like this."

Gone was his previous arrogance.

I lowered my head, looking at the friend request that had been sitting in my WhatsApp list for two days, and silently accepted it.

Handling everything without saying a word. Richard had his style.

For seven years, I thought that was love.

But his words hit me like a cold, harsh reality check, chilling me to the bone.

I could no longer hold myself up, sliding down to sit against the rough wall behind me.