The Phone Call That Unraveled My Life

The Phone Call That Unraveled My Life

Gavin

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I was stuck. Ten years. Ten years married to Ethan, and now he looked at me like inconvenient furniture. My sister, Jessica, stood there, a smirk on her face, demanding my grandmother's antique necklace for her "career-making audition." Ethan, my husband, the man I loved, told me she needed it. His voice was flat, devoid of any warmth. He was sleeping with her, with Jessica, my own sister. And he didn't even bother to hide it anymore. When I finally whispered "No," his eyes narrowed. "Don't be difficult, Sarah. It's just a necklace," he sneered. He dismissed my pain, ridiculed my anger. I tried to divorce him, but he just laughed, "You're mine, Sarah. Don't forget that." I was trapped, defeated, retreated to the dusty attic, my sanctuary of forgotten things. How could the man I married, the boy who wrote clumsy love poems, become this monster? This cold, controlling stranger who openly cheated with my sister and wouldn't let me go. Was there any escape from this personal hell? Any way to reclaim the life he had stolen? Then, my old college phone, a relic I hadn't touched in years, flickered to life. A desperate, wild thought struck me as I saw his old number. What if? I dialed. A young, hesitant voice answered, "Hello?" It was him. Ethan. Nineteen. My Ethan.

Introduction

I was stuck.

Ten years.

Ten years married to Ethan, and now he looked at me like inconvenient furniture.

My sister, Jessica, stood there, a smirk on her face, demanding my grandmother's antique necklace for her "career-making audition."

Ethan, my husband, the man I loved, told me she needed it.

His voice was flat, devoid of any warmth.

He was sleeping with her, with Jessica, my own sister.

And he didn't even bother to hide it anymore.

When I finally whispered "No," his eyes narrowed.

"Don't be difficult, Sarah. It's just a necklace," he sneered.

He dismissed my pain, ridiculed my anger.

I tried to divorce him, but he just laughed, "You're mine, Sarah. Don't forget that."

I was trapped, defeated, retreated to the dusty attic, my sanctuary of forgotten things.

How could the man I married, the boy who wrote clumsy love poems, become this monster?

This cold, controlling stranger who openly cheated with my sister and wouldn't let me go.

Was there any escape from this personal hell?

Any way to reclaim the life he had stolen?

Then, my old college phone, a relic I hadn't touched in years, flickered to life.

A desperate, wild thought struck me as I saw his old number.

What if?

I dialed.

A young, hesitant voice answered, "Hello?"

It was him.

Ethan. Nineteen.

My Ethan.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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