Second Chance At A Loveless Marriage

Second Chance At A Loveless Marriage

Gavin

5.0
Comment(s)
40
View
12
Chapters

The antiseptic smell of my deathbed couldn't mask the stench of betrayal. My wife, Emily, played the grieving spouse, her tears a performance, her whispers to her lover, Daniel, charting my demise. "He's not going to make it through the night. I'll be free soon, my love." That name, Daniel Sterling, a family friend I admired, shattered my world faster than my failing heart. My final sight was Emily's beautiful, lying face, cold and irritated by my inconvenient death. Then, blinding light. I gasped, sucking in real air, not in a hospital, but my old bedroom, decades younger, strong, unblemished hands. It was real. I was back. Memories of my first life flooded me: the loveless marriage, the quiet sacrifices, the children who weren't mine. Then, the pivotal memory from this timeline, the one that started it all: a party, too much to drink, Emily crying, pregnant, my naive proposal driven by a sense of duty, a lie. She was already carrying Daniel's child, using me as a shield to protect his budding career. The bedroom door creaked open. "Ethan? Are you awake?" It was Emily, radiant and innocent, carrying breakfast, her hand reaching for my forehead with the same feigned care from my deathbed. I flinched from her touch. "Emily," I said, my voice cold, "We need to talk about the wedding." Her smile faltered as I flatly stated, "I don't think we should get married." Her crocodile tears flowed, "I love you, Ethan!" she whimpered. "Don't," I warned, her words now poison. She played her trump card, placing her hand on her stomach. "I'm... I'm pregnant, Ethan. It's your baby." I almost laughed, knowing the truth this time. "Emily has always been like a sister to me," I announced, loud enough for our families downstairs to hear. "I'll always care for her." Her face, pure unadulterated panic, confirmed it. The game had just begun, and this time, I was making the rules.

Introduction

The antiseptic smell of my deathbed couldn't mask the stench of betrayal.

My wife, Emily, played the grieving spouse, her tears a performance, her whispers to her lover, Daniel, charting my demise.

"He's not going to make it through the night. I'll be free soon, my love."

That name, Daniel Sterling, a family friend I admired, shattered my world faster than my failing heart.

My final sight was Emily's beautiful, lying face, cold and irritated by my inconvenient death.

Then, blinding light. I gasped, sucking in real air, not in a hospital, but my old bedroom, decades younger, strong, unblemished hands.

It was real. I was back.

Memories of my first life flooded me: the loveless marriage, the quiet sacrifices, the children who weren't mine.

Then, the pivotal memory from this timeline, the one that started it all: a party, too much to drink, Emily crying, pregnant, my naive proposal driven by a sense of duty, a lie.

She was already carrying Daniel's child, using me as a shield to protect his budding career.

The bedroom door creaked open. "Ethan? Are you awake?"

It was Emily, radiant and innocent, carrying breakfast, her hand reaching for my forehead with the same feigned care from my deathbed.

I flinched from her touch. "Emily," I said, my voice cold, "We need to talk about the wedding."

Her smile faltered as I flatly stated, "I don't think we should get married."

Her crocodile tears flowed, "I love you, Ethan!" she whimpered.

"Don't," I warned, her words now poison.

She played her trump card, placing her hand on her stomach. "I'm... I'm pregnant, Ethan. It's your baby."

I almost laughed, knowing the truth this time.

"Emily has always been like a sister to me," I announced, loud enough for our families downstairs to hear. "I'll always care for her."

Her face, pure unadulterated panic, confirmed it. The game had just begun, and this time, I was making the rules.

Continue Reading

Other books by Gavin

More
The Truth About His Mistress

The Truth About His Mistress

Short stories

4.7

I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.

You'll also like

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book