Love's Bitter Truth

Love's Bitter Truth

Gavin

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For ten years, I was the picture of a devoted husband, building a life with Chloe in our comfortable Bellevue home. My life felt stable, successful, exactly what her image-conscious parents approved of for their daughter. Then came the news: Leo, Chloe' s tumultuous musician ex, had died. A drug overdose, labeled suicide. Days later, my wife, my Chloe, drove her car straight off the Deception Pass Bridge. Grief-stricken, clearing out her laptop, I stumbled upon a password-protected blog. "Leo1998." Inside, ten years of her raw thoughts: "I married Ethan today... They just gave me a life sentence with his shadow." Another entry: "I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming... I felt so disgusted afterward I scrubbed my skin raw." My heart, already broken, shattered into a million pieces. The woman I adored had spent a decade despising my every touch, every act of love, pretending I was another man. My entire existence was a lie. The words burned through me: disgust, resentment, pity. My world collapsed beneath the weight of her betrayal. How could my decade of unwavering dedication, my honest love, have been nothing more than a painful charade for her? The sheer, pointless waste of it all. Then, darkness. But instead of an ending, I jolted awake to the smell of stale coffee, in my old college dorm. My phone buzzed: a text from Chloe. The date: September 15, 2014. Ten years in the past. The day of our first official date. This time, I knew the cost of playing her fool. This time, I would write my own story.

Introduction

For ten years, I was the picture of a devoted husband, building a life with Chloe in our comfortable Bellevue home.

My life felt stable, successful, exactly what her image-conscious parents approved of for their daughter.

Then came the news: Leo, Chloe' s tumultuous musician ex, had died.

A drug overdose, labeled suicide.

Days later, my wife, my Chloe, drove her car straight off the Deception Pass Bridge.

Grief-stricken, clearing out her laptop, I stumbled upon a password-protected blog.

"Leo1998."

Inside, ten years of her raw thoughts: "I married Ethan today... They just gave me a life sentence with his shadow."

Another entry: "I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming... I felt so disgusted afterward I scrubbed my skin raw."

My heart, already broken, shattered into a million pieces.

The woman I adored had spent a decade despising my every touch, every act of love, pretending I was another man.

My entire existence was a lie.

The words burned through me: disgust, resentment, pity.

My world collapsed beneath the weight of her betrayal.

How could my decade of unwavering dedication, my honest love, have been nothing more than a painful charade for her?

The sheer, pointless waste of it all.

Then, darkness.

But instead of an ending, I jolted awake to the smell of stale coffee, in my old college dorm.

My phone buzzed: a text from Chloe.

The date: September 15, 2014.

Ten years in the past.

The day of our first official date.

This time, I knew the cost of playing her fool.

This time, I would write my own story.

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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

Short stories

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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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