The divorce papers felt heavy in my hands, a final weight after three years. I had sacrificed everything to be the perfect wife to Liam Hayes, a genius in game design but a recluse crippled by anxiety. I was his shield, his planner, his entire support system, ensuring every detail of his life was seamless so he could create. But at the launch party for his groundbreaking new game, "Aethelgard's Echo," he took the stage and thanked his "muse," Olivia, the graphic designer. He beamed at her, she blew him a kiss, and I, his wife, stood frozen in the wings, my name never mentioned. Three years of sleepless nights, managing his panic attacks, and organizing his entire life were erased in that single spotlight. He didn't just forget me; he publicly replaced me, reducing me to nothing more than hired help. My face burned with a fresh wave of humiliation as whispers and pitying glances followed me. I walked out, and no one, especially not Liam, even noticed I was gone. I had become Eleanor Hayes, the wife of a genius, but I had lost Eleanor Vance, the architect, the person I was supposed to be. My decision was made: I needed to be free. Yet, when I presented Liam with the divorce papers, expecting relief, he refused to sign. He looked at me with raw, pure panic, not love or affection, but the desperate fear of losing his unpaid, live-in assistant, his "system." My anger snapped, but even as he violently punched a wall, breaking his hand, my conditioned reflex was to care for him. The final, brutal blow came later when I saw him treat Olivia's tiny paper cut with more care and tenderness than he had ever shown my own shattered heart. That was it. The last chord of hope, the final flicker of duty, snapped. No longer would I be his punching bag; no longer would I be invisible. I packed the single, worn suitcase I had arrived with three years ago. I was leaving, and this time, I wasn't coming back.
The divorce papers felt heavy in my hands, a final weight after three years.
I had sacrificed everything to be the perfect wife to Liam Hayes, a genius in game design but a recluse crippled by anxiety.
I was his shield, his planner, his entire support system, ensuring every detail of his life was seamless so he could create.
But at the launch party for his groundbreaking new game, "Aethelgard's Echo," he took the stage and thanked his "muse," Olivia, the graphic designer.
He beamed at her, she blew him a kiss, and I, his wife, stood frozen in the wings, my name never mentioned.
Three years of sleepless nights, managing his panic attacks, and organizing his entire life were erased in that single spotlight.
He didn't just forget me; he publicly replaced me, reducing me to nothing more than hired help.
My face burned with a fresh wave of humiliation as whispers and pitying glances followed me.
I walked out, and no one, especially not Liam, even noticed I was gone.
I had become Eleanor Hayes, the wife of a genius, but I had lost Eleanor Vance, the architect, the person I was supposed to be.
My decision was made: I needed to be free.
Yet, when I presented Liam with the divorce papers, expecting relief, he refused to sign.
He looked at me with raw, pure panic, not love or affection, but the desperate fear of losing his unpaid, live-in assistant, his "system."
My anger snapped, but even as he violently punched a wall, breaking his hand, my conditioned reflex was to care for him.
The final, brutal blow came later when I saw him treat Olivia's tiny paper cut with more care and tenderness than he had ever shown my own shattered heart.
That was it.
The last chord of hope, the final flicker of duty, snapped.
No longer would I be his punching bag; no longer would I be invisible.
I packed the single, worn suitcase I had arrived with three years ago.
I was leaving, and this time, I wasn't coming back.
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