Marriage Application: A Fateful Revelation

Marriage Application: A Fateful Revelation

Gavin

5.0
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"Next." The words called out at city hall, flat and mundane, were supposed to usher me into a new life with Chloe, the woman I' d loved for ten years. Chloe nudged me, impatient. "Mark, that's us. Hurry up." But as the clerk took the marriage application, her voice, initially bored, turned sharp: "Mark Peterson and... Kevin Peterson? Is this correct?" Chloe froze, her perfectly sculpted face contorting in confusion and rage. "What did you say?" The clerk pointed, revealing my brother' s name where hers should have been. "That's two male names. We can't process this." Chloe snatched the application, her eyes scanning, then fixed on me, venomous. "Mark! What is this? Why is your brother's name on here? Where's the real application?" In a flash, a memory surfaced: my past life, on my deathbed at 52, Chloe and Kevin holding hands. They demanded I sign divorce papers, asking not about my pain, but about their "true love" having waited so long. For thirty years, they had used me, behind my back, living off my money. The woman I would have died for, in another life, nearly made me. But this wasn't that life. This was my second chance. "There is no other application," I stated, my voice steady, pulling out a blank form. "You and Kevin can fill this one out. I'm sure he'll be happy to sign it." Confusion, then chilling anger warred on her face. Her perfectly crafted world was crumbling, and she had no idea why. She didn't know the story of the man she had betrayed, not really. I walked away from her, not looking back, the marriage application to my brother a stark symbol of her true place in my life-and his. This time, I' d choose my own path.

Introduction

"Next."

The words called out at city hall, flat and mundane, were supposed to usher me into a new life with Chloe, the woman I' d loved for ten years.

Chloe nudged me, impatient. "Mark, that's us. Hurry up."

But as the clerk took the marriage application, her voice, initially bored, turned sharp: "Mark Peterson and... Kevin Peterson? Is this correct?"

Chloe froze, her perfectly sculpted face contorting in confusion and rage. "What did you say?"

The clerk pointed, revealing my brother' s name where hers should have been. "That's two male names. We can't process this."

Chloe snatched the application, her eyes scanning, then fixed on me, venomous. "Mark! What is this? Why is your brother's name on here? Where's the real application?"

In a flash, a memory surfaced: my past life, on my deathbed at 52, Chloe and Kevin holding hands. They demanded I sign divorce papers, asking not about my pain, but about their "true love" having waited so long. For thirty years, they had used me, behind my back, living off my money.

The woman I would have died for, in another life, nearly made me.

But this wasn't that life. This was my second chance.

"There is no other application," I stated, my voice steady, pulling out a blank form. "You and Kevin can fill this one out. I'm sure he'll be happy to sign it."

Confusion, then chilling anger warred on her face. Her perfectly crafted world was crumbling, and she had no idea why. She didn't know the story of the man she had betrayed, not really.

I walked away from her, not looking back, the marriage application to my brother a stark symbol of her true place in my life-and his. This time, I' d choose my own path.

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I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

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