My Ring, Her Other Man

My Ring, Her Other Man

Gavin

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For ten years, I lived in the shadow of Sarah Jenkins, the nation' s biggest pop star, her secret husband, believing her promise that one day we' d reveal our love to the world. Then, on the biggest night of her career, accepting her Artist of the Year award, she dropped to one knee on live television. My heart soared-this was it. But her eyes skipped over me in the audience, landing instead on David Chen, her manager, as she pulled out the custom-designed engagement ring I had made for us, for our future. "David Chen," she shouted, "Will you marry me?" And he smirked, sliding my "forever ring" onto his finger, sealing their public embrace as confetti rained down. Watching my life' s symbol of hope twisted into a grotesque proposal for another man, followed by her sickeningly sweet lie that it was "just a stunt" while David's clothes filled our closet, snapped something inside me. The hollow ache filled with ice-cold fury-this wasn' t a stunt; it was a brazen, calculated betrayal, and I was just the inconvenient collateral damage. Picking up the phone, my voice steady despite the seismic shift in my world, I uttered the words that would finally set me free: "I want a divorce."

Introduction

For ten years, I lived in the shadow of Sarah Jenkins, the nation' s biggest pop star, her secret husband, believing her promise that one day we' d reveal our love to the world.

Then, on the biggest night of her career, accepting her Artist of the Year award, she dropped to one knee on live television. My heart soared-this was it.

But her eyes skipped over me in the audience, landing instead on David Chen, her manager, as she pulled out the custom-designed engagement ring I had made for us, for our future.

"David Chen," she shouted, "Will you marry me?" And he smirked, sliding my "forever ring" onto his finger, sealing their public embrace as confetti rained down.

Watching my life' s symbol of hope twisted into a grotesque proposal for another man, followed by her sickeningly sweet lie that it was "just a stunt" while David's clothes filled our closet, snapped something inside me.

The hollow ache filled with ice-cold fury-this wasn' t a stunt; it was a brazen, calculated betrayal, and I was just the inconvenient collateral damage.

Picking up the phone, my voice steady despite the seismic shift in my world, I uttered the words that would finally set me free: "I want a divorce."

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