Chloe, My Only Regret

Chloe, My Only Regret

Gertrude

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Our marriage was a five-year war, a slow burn of mutual revenge. I thought he hated me for trapping him, especially after I hid that letter from his college sweetheart, Sarah Jenkins. He retaliated by bringing other women home, making them use my mug, sit in my chair, their perfume a constant torment he inflicted just to see the pain on my face. After years of fighting for even a sliver of his attention, I woke up from a nightmare so vivid, so terrifyingly real, it felt like a premonition: a future where he'd force me to sacrifice everything for Sarah, leaving me ruined and discarded. The terror of that vision compelled me to act; I demanded a divorce, expecting a fight, only for him to agree to my outrageous demand of 50% of his company shares. Just as I believed I was finally free, I walked into a bar and saw him, playing the devoted hero to Sarah, shielding her from two thugs. He accused me of orchestrating the whole thing, his fury blinding him to my innocence, confirming his deep-seated belief that I was nothing but a manipulative monster. Then, just as I was about to walk out on him for good, he ambushed me, dragging me into a private room, his rage-filled kiss a violation, yet confusingly, it stirred something within me I swore was long dead. The nightmare, however, brought me back to reality, and I pushed him away, screaming for him to go to Sarah, desperate to escape the dangerous flicker of hope his touch ignited. When I presented a revised divorce agreement, offering to take less, he simply shredded it, then later, I watched, horrified, as he chauffeured Sarah around in my Porsche. His phone call came late, a vulnerable whisper, claiming a car accident, drawing me to him despite everything, only for me to find him drunk, unhurt, and suddenly, bewilderingly, in tears, confessing his enduring love and tearing up yet another document – this time, a full transfer of his company shares to me. I placed Sarah's letter, the one I had hidden, beside him, ready to finally reveal the truth, only for him to casually dismiss it, claiming he never loved her, and admitted to hiring actresses for five years to make me jealous. Only then did I confess my own deception, and the realization of our shared, foolish misunderstanding brought us crashing together, five years of wasted pride melting away as he pulled me into his arms, finally understanding the depth of our love.

Introduction

Our marriage was a five-year war, a slow burn of mutual revenge.

I thought he hated me for trapping him, especially after I hid that letter from his college sweetheart, Sarah Jenkins.

He retaliated by bringing other women home, making them use my mug, sit in my chair, their perfume a constant torment he inflicted just to see the pain on my face.

After years of fighting for even a sliver of his attention, I woke up from a nightmare so vivid, so terrifyingly real, it felt like a premonition: a future where he'd force me to sacrifice everything for Sarah, leaving me ruined and discarded.

The terror of that vision compelled me to act; I demanded a divorce, expecting a fight, only for him to agree to my outrageous demand of 50% of his company shares.

Just as I believed I was finally free, I walked into a bar and saw him, playing the devoted hero to Sarah, shielding her from two thugs.

He accused me of orchestrating the whole thing, his fury blinding him to my innocence, confirming his deep-seated belief that I was nothing but a manipulative monster.

Then, just as I was about to walk out on him for good, he ambushed me, dragging me into a private room, his rage-filled kiss a violation, yet confusingly, it stirred something within me I swore was long dead.

The nightmare, however, brought me back to reality, and I pushed him away, screaming for him to go to Sarah, desperate to escape the dangerous flicker of hope his touch ignited.

When I presented a revised divorce agreement, offering to take less, he simply shredded it, then later, I watched, horrified, as he chauffeured Sarah around in my Porsche.

His phone call came late, a vulnerable whisper, claiming a car accident, drawing me to him despite everything, only for me to find him drunk, unhurt, and suddenly, bewilderingly, in tears, confessing his enduring love and tearing up yet another document – this time, a full transfer of his company shares to me.

I placed Sarah's letter, the one I had hidden, beside him, ready to finally reveal the truth, only for him to casually dismiss it, claiming he never loved her, and admitted to hiring actresses for five years to make me jealous.

Only then did I confess my own deception, and the realization of our shared, foolish misunderstanding brought us crashing together, five years of wasted pride melting away as he pulled me into his arms, finally understanding the depth of our love.

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