The Only Way Is Up

The launch party for my company was supposed to be the peak of my life' s ambition, but my eyes were glued to the door, waiting for my wife, Olivia.

Just last week, she' d finally warmed up to me, hinting at starting a family after three years of a marriage that felt like a contract.

Then the doors opened, and Olivia walked in, but she wasn' t alone; beside her, with a possessive hand on her back, was Dr. Marcus Thorne, her former mentor.

He was a ghost from her past, and she was smiling at him in a way she never smiled at me.

I watched them, trying to convince myself it was nothing, as he leaned in to whisper, and she laughed, an intimacy that screamed of a shared history I was not a part of.

Dave, my business partner, clapped me on the shoulder, telling me we were "killing it," but my gaze was fixed on Olivia taking a glass of wine from Marcus, their fingers brushing.

It felt like a punch to the stomach, seeing the effortless familiarity he had, everything I' d bled for in three years of trying.

The anger and humiliation choked me, until I finally stumbled over to them, my voice hoarse.

Marcus turned, looked me up and down, and with a condescending smirk, called me "the boy genius," belittling my entire existence.

Then the room tilted, my chest tightened, and the world went black.

I woke to the sterile smell of a hospital, Olivia asleep beside me, but the warmth turned to bitter self-mockery as I remembered her denial in front of him.

Our marriage had been a transaction from the start-a deathbed promise to my father to "look after me."