The video arrived on the tenth anniversary of my marriage to Serena Shaw, the scion of a New England financial dynasty. When I held my phone up, demanding an explanation, Seri merely shrugged, her expression calm, utterly indifferent. “I have nothing to explain.” She sighed, a delicate, practiced sound. “Your health... it’s been complicated. I couldn’t ask you to keep up, but people have needs, Ash, don’t they?” I froze, the arm holding the phone above the coffee table going numb. “That’s your excuse?” Seri didn’t answer. Her light gaze drifted over me. “Honestly, for years now, you’ve just been… underwhelming.” I looked at her, and my heart turned to an icy shard. All those promises of ‘forever’ had only amounted to a short, brutal decade. 1 Seri reached out, took the phone from my numb fingers, and tossed it onto the glass coffee table. She glanced at the screen, shutting it off casually. “I’m tired, Ash. I have been for a while.” She rubbed her temples, her expression unchanged. “I’m in my late thirties. Seeing younger men… it’s a vitality I crave.” She spoke as if discussing a new line of credit. “I had planned to keep this from you forever. But since you found out, I don’t have to walk on eggshells or manage your feelings anymore.” Seri let out a sigh of relief. Every word was a needle, puncturing my chest. The pain was so sharp I could barely stand straight. I tried to pull my lips into a smile. “Seri, this isn’t funny. Just tell me it’s a hoax, tell me it’s all a lie, and I promise I’ll believe you.” She looked at me with a complicated expression—pity, impatience, but not a flicker of remorse. She walked out and returned with a document, sliding it across the table. The bold black letters on the cover choked the words in my throat. “I’ve already signed it.” She tapped the paper. “If you’re done, sign it, and we’ll have a clean break. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of financially.” Her eyes hardened. “If you want to stay married, fine. We’ll remain husband and wife in the eyes of the media. But you won’t interfere with my private life, and I won’t interfere with yours. As long as we keep up appearances for the shareholders, nothing changes.” Her finger tapped the table again, a sound of gentle but unmistakable coercion. I opened my mouth, my eyes burning. “Why?” I whispered. “We’ve been together for twenty-two years…” Seri walked closer, taking my hand. Her thumb traced the smooth metal of my wedding ring, cutting off my protest. “Exactly. We’ve been together for that long. It’s time I tried someone else.” She paused, then looked up and gave me a dazzling, dimpled smile. “Why don’t you try someone else, too? I won’t stop you.” I lowered my eyes, pulling my hand away. My voice was husky. “I won’t divorce you.” I met her gaze, cold and steady. “Two decades of my life. I poured all twenty years into us. And you think you can settle that debt with a check?” The atmosphere thickened into a heavy silence. It was broken only by the piercing ring of her cell phone. Seri grabbed her expensive Italian leather bag from the couch. She paused at the door, glancing back at me. “Ashton, you’ll figure it out sooner or later.” The front door slammed shut, sending a rush of air through the great room. On the dining table was the dinner I’d spent all afternoon preparing to celebrate her return from a business trip. My chest heaved with rage. I picked up the divorce agreement and tore it into confetti. Then, I swept the entire meal off the table. The sound of porcelain shattering on the marble floor echoed through the cavernous, empty living room. Ten years of marriage, ten years before that in a relationship. I had spent two decades walking by her side. As her money grew, and our houses grew larger, her heart had only grown colder. When I first received the video, I’d convinced myself it was a deepfake. A cruel joke. I never once imagined that the person who would first betray our marriage would be Serena. The pieces of the divorce agreement lay scattered at my feet. Seri’s signature on the dotted line felt like a physical jab to my eye. I bent down to clean up the mess, and a shard of plate glass cut my finger. I didn’t even register the blood welling up. I needed to focus on anything else. But all I could hear was Seri’s voice from before she left. Just yesterday, we were talking about our ten-year anniversary. The day after, that video shattered everything. It was all so absurd. A waking nightmare. 2 I sat motionless in the living room for the rest of the night. By dawn, the news about Seri’s “new flame” was the lead story on every major entertainment site. The internet was flooded with news of her dropping a fortune on a custom yacht for him, or video clips of them tearing up the I-95 bridge in her convertible. The comments were everywhere: [At the end of the day, they’re all the same.] [Rich people rarely stay faithful. Of course she has a side-piece. I just didn't expect it from Serena Shaw.] [I heard she was utterly obsessed with Ashton Reed back in the day. The fireworks on their wedding night lasted three days straight.] [Dozens of millions in pyrotechnics! It was a spectacle.] The posts felt deliberately placed, like Seri wanted me to see them. Every comment constricted my heart. I remembered the day Shaw Global went public. She stood on stage, holding my hand for all the reporters and cameras to see. “This is my husband, my first love, the man I’ve adored for fifteen years,” she announced to the world. “He got me through the absolute hardest times. Without him, there would be no Shaw Global today.” That day, she was radiant, clutching my arm, her dimples deep with happiness. It was also the day she promised the cameras: “I will love Ashton Reed forever.” That interview is still online, constantly cited as a testament to true love. But her version of forever was short—only ten years. Now, a different man stood beside her, receiving the same tender attention she used to reserve for me. She was fending off the press, a subtle smile playing on her lips. “Devin’s just a college kid. Direct your questions to me. Don’t harass him.” My vision blurred. I compulsively watched the interview playback again and again, almost in an act of self-flagellation. Finally, Seri called. Her voice was still soft. “Did you see the news? Everyone’s speculating that we’ve already divorced. Which, let’s be honest, is only a matter of time.” She paused. “The documents can be signed today if you’ve come to your senses. Or, would you rather see it for yourself?” She texted me an address. I gripped the phone, my knuckles white. I didn’t know if I was driving there because of a foolish, tiny spark of hope, or out of pure, white-hot defiance. I hadn’t even walked through the door when I heard the loud laughter coming from the private lounge. “Seri, what about your husband back home?” Through the cracked door, I heard Seri’s casual reply. “He’s about to be history.” My hand clenched at my side. I pushed the door open. In an instant, every eye in the room turned to me. My gaze went straight to the college boy. Just as she’d described him: young, handsome, and arrogantly self-assured. He met my eyes and smirked, throwing his arm possessively around Seri’s waist. “Mr. Reed. Seri and I had a bet. If you showed up today, you had to drink this bottle.” He gestured to a high-end bottle of liquor. “You’re not going to let us down, are you?” My breath hitched. I looked up at Seri. She said nothing, a clear indication that the wager was real. “I don’t drink.” I clipped the refusal, staring her down. “I need to talk to you. Alone.” Seri sighed, looking at me with undisguised impatience. “Ashton, you’re always so tedious. It’s just a shot, not a death sentence.” She leaned back into Devin’s embrace. “You want to talk? Finish the bottle, and we’ll talk.” My lips were pressed into a thin line, my heart stinging with a dense, agonizing ache. I picked up the bottle of clear liquor and, right in front of her, downed the entire thing. The smile on Seri’s face faltered. She seemed to have forgotten that I’d sacrificed half my stomach for her. Seri was allergic to alcohol, but she couldn't avoid it when running deals. I had taken over every single client meeting, every brutal, boozy dinner, drinking myself sick to close the deals. I’d nearly killed myself doing it, until I ended up needing half my stomach surgically removed. “Can we talk now?” My voice was raw and hoarse. My stomach twisted with a sickening cramp, and my vision swam. Just before I lost consciousness, I saw the blood drain from Seri’s face. 3 When I woke up in the hospital, Seri wasn’t there. The doctor stood by my bed, frowning at my chart. “Where is the family member?” I weakly shook my head. The doctor moved on to the next patient. The bed next to mine was occupied by a young couple. The girl was chattering, mostly scolding the boy for being clumsy, but the love in her eyes was palpable and pure. It was exactly how Seri used to look at me. My phone buzzed on the nightstand—a barrage of anonymous texts. Each one contained a new photo of Seri and Devin: matching couple tattoos, ziplining together, praying at an ancient mission, chasing the aurora borealis. Seri was right. She was happier with Devin. “Youth has its currency, Mr. Reed. Wouldn’t you agree?” Devin’s faintly mocking voice echoed in my mind, a challenge I couldn’t refute. Seri finally came in on the third day of my hospital stay. She sat by the bed, looking at me, her expression fraught. “Devin is young and careless. Don’t hold it against him.” Her first sentence was a defense of him. The dull, persistent ache in my heart sharpened into a fresh stab of pain. “Are you still hurting?” She held my hand, searching for the right words. “I forgot you couldn’t drink, but you knew that, Ash. Why did you do it? Were you genuinely trying to punish yourself?” Seeing my silence, Seri realized her mistake. She ran a restless hand through her hair, inadvertently exposing a faint red mark on her neck. Finally, she slumped in defeat. “I’m sorry.” I pulled my hand back, turning my gaze away from her. An odd, charged silence filled the room. For a brief period after that, Seri seemed to revert back to her old self. Perhaps it was guilt, perhaps a fleeting moment of conscience. For a few days, she was by my bedside almost constantly, watching me take my medication, personally preparing me bowls of restorative broth. It was almost like the beginning again. The time when she’d lost everything: the daughter of Manhattan Royalty, stripped of her empire overnight. Her parents, unable to face the ruin, took their own lives. I found Seri after she’d cut her wrists, and thankfully saved her life. From that moment, I swore I would protect her. In our hardest years, we lived in ten-dollar-a-night motels, sharing a single cup of instant ramen. She’d always sneak the one egg I could afford beneath the noodles, pretending she didn’t see my grueling hours running errands and taking odd jobs. Back then, getting sick was terrifying because we had no money for medicine or treatment. She would look out the motel’s rusted-out window at the skyscrapers and the endless traffic. “Ashton,” she used to say, “we have to get out of this place.” We did. We climbed out. But she changed. That night, the dim bedside lamp flickered. Seri sat slumped in the chair, half-asleep. I looked at her, greedily absorbing the sight. Then I looked away. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t stay this way. Her heart had long ago left this room. Sure enough, a call from Devin woke her up. She didn't offer a single word of explanation, grabbed her coat, and rushed out of the hospital room. 4 The next day was supposed to be my discharge date. Seri called after she left. The gentle tone from the previous days was gone. “Devin’s been expelled from school.” Her voice was tight. “Was that your doing? He’s threatening to hurt himself now. If anything happens…” “Ashton, don’t push me.” She hung up before I could reply. News about Devin spread instantly. One viral post after another popped up: [They say Song Yu is a vindictive loser. Looks like Serena was right to want a divorce.] [Being fierce and chasing what you want is the Big Female Lead move. It takes guts. Ashton Reed is just a petty, jealous man going after a kid.] [Isn’t he the kept man? The useless house husband? Those men are the worst.] The public narrative was entirely against me. Even worse, Seri, who rarely posted anything personal, updated her social media: [Twenty-plus years of history with Ashton ends today. I refuse to tolerate a man who is content to be utterly unaccomplished.] Her statement threw me straight into the pyre. I quickly signed my discharge papers. Stepping out of the hospital, I was instantly surrounded by reporters. Their camera flashes blinded me. I felt like a public enemy. I fought my way out of the throng and drove home in a desperate, panicked state. When I pushed open the front door, Seri was sitting on the sofa. A news channel was playing on her tablet, showing my pale, desperate face from outside the hospital. “Was it you?” My voice was terribly hoarse. Seri didn’t deny it. Instead, she pushed a fresh copy of the divorce agreement towards me. “What I said was true, wasn’t it, Ashton? Haven’t I been the one supporting you for years?” Her eyes were cold. “You spread rumors, claiming he was a kept boy, a mistress, and you got his scholarship revoked. I never knew you were so full of such intense jealousy.” A hysterical laugh burst from me. All the humiliation and grievance of the past weeks finally erupted. “So you’re playing both sides in the media? Devin is a homewrecker! We’re still married! And why did I stop working? You know perfectly well why! That huge company of yours? I built that with my life!” Seri’s face instantly darkened. She slapped me, hard. The force sent a ringing echo through my ear. “No one made you help. You did it voluntarily. I would have built this company just fine without you.” Her voice rose, laced with contempt. “Haven’t I been good to you all these years? The big house, the luxury cars. What can you actually contribute? All you can do is use your sacrifices to make me feel guilty and chase my attention!” She leaned in, her voice low and furious. “You’re pathetic! You love these self-pitying martyrdom plays!” It was as if she were finally voicing every unspoken resentment she’d bottled up over the years. “You’re an embarrassment, Ashton. Devin is at least young and attractive, someone I’m not ashamed to be seen with. What do you offer me?” My eyes were bloodshot. The last flickering ember of hope in my heart was extinguished. All my recent efforts, all the self-delusion, felt like a cruel joke. In that moment of pure rage, people speak their deepest, ugliest truths. Seri was about to say something else. I snatched a pen from the desk and scrawled my name on the signature line. She opened her mouth, but the words were stuck. She picked up the signed agreement, flipping through the pages. Her fingers tightened on the edge of the paper bearing my name. “We’ll see each other at the Registry after the cooling-off period.” I met her eyes one last time. “Your company’s half equity… it’s mine. It’s what I paid for.” I threw the pen down, turned my back, and walked out of the house we had shared for ten years. I could feel Seri’s gaze burning into my back. This time, I was never looking back.
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