The Anniversay Divorce Gift

The Anniversay Divorce Gift

Gavin

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For five years, my marriage to Mark Johnson was a meticulously guarded secret, hidden for the sake of his booming tech career. Our fifth anniversary arrived, a date circled in red, feeling like a cruel joke. That day, the love I' d poured into him for a decade finally ran dry, replaced by a hollow ache. I typed Sarah' s number, my best friend and legal wizard. "It's time," I said, my voice betraying none of the turmoil inside me. "I need the papers." Mark was about to get an anniversary gift unlike any other: a signed divorce agreement. I left his office, the signed papers clutched in my hand, just after hearing him rush off to his adopted sister, Chloe, for yet another fabricated crisis. The realization hit me: he had married me for convenience, for the perfect image I provided, while his heart belonged to another. The following morning, I stopped making his coffee, subtly stepping away from his touch, creating an ocean of distance between us. Then, disaster struck. Chloe's "emergency" made him abandon a multi-million dollar deal, and when I, his secret wife, suffered a devastating miscarriage alone, he was absent, doting on her. The pain was a physical blow, but it burned away the last thread of hope. I was alone. I had always been alone. I cut every tie, professional and personal, making myself unsearchable, then booked a one-way ticket out of the country. Mark was forced to sign the final divorce papers himself, confirming his obliviousness. But then, he started showing up. First in Italy, then in Paris. He won't give up, claiming he loves me, but his newfound desperation only proves the truth: he wants what he can't have. Now, he' s followed me to Santorini, refusing to leave. My story isn't over. It' s just beginning.

Introduction

For five years, my marriage to Mark Johnson was a meticulously guarded secret, hidden for the sake of his booming tech career.

Our fifth anniversary arrived, a date circled in red, feeling like a cruel joke.

That day, the love I' d poured into him for a decade finally ran dry, replaced by a hollow ache.

I typed Sarah' s number, my best friend and legal wizard.

"It's time," I said, my voice betraying none of the turmoil inside me. "I need the papers."

Mark was about to get an anniversary gift unlike any other: a signed divorce agreement.

I left his office, the signed papers clutched in my hand, just after hearing him rush off to his adopted sister, Chloe, for yet another fabricated crisis.

The realization hit me: he had married me for convenience, for the perfect image I provided, while his heart belonged to another.

The following morning, I stopped making his coffee, subtly stepping away from his touch, creating an ocean of distance between us.

Then, disaster struck. Chloe's "emergency" made him abandon a multi-million dollar deal, and when I, his secret wife, suffered a devastating miscarriage alone, he was absent, doting on her.

The pain was a physical blow, but it burned away the last thread of hope.

I was alone. I had always been alone.

I cut every tie, professional and personal, making myself unsearchable, then booked a one-way ticket out of the country.

Mark was forced to sign the final divorce papers himself, confirming his obliviousness.

But then, he started showing up.

First in Italy, then in Paris.

He won't give up, claiming he loves me, but his newfound desperation only proves the truth: he wants what he can't have.

Now, he' s followed me to Santorini, refusing to leave.

My story isn't over. It' s just beginning.

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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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