Dismembered by My Husband’s Crush

I could not believe what I was hearing. I wanted the universe to tear me apart right then and there. Hearing those words from the man I had loved most was sickeningly ironic.

"Exactly! She didn’t deserve to be a cop!" Dylan chimed in with a nod of disdain. "A wolf in sheep’s clothing like her deserved far worse. They should strip her of her title and erase her from the records!"

"That’ll happen soon," Samuel muttered, his fingers hovering over the door handle before he pulled it and stepped out.

My mind went blank. Those records… Every mission I survived, every bullet I dodged, all the bleeding and bruises, all in the name of honor. That was my legacy. It was more precious than my life itself. And because of Jasmine, Samuel was willing to erase it all?

I wanted to grab him by the collar and scream at him. Had he ever truly loved me?

Halfway down the hall, Samuel’s phone rang, and I was forced to follow as he answered. His voice softened. "Wassup, Jas?" A smile tugged at his lips.

From the other end, I heard that woman's playful voice. "Are you done yet, Sam? All these dresses are so beautiful. I don't know which one to pick. Come help me!"

"Alright, I’ll be there soon," he replied, affection spilling into his voice as he quickened his pace.

Somehow, as if drawn by some unseen force, I was pulled along with him, all the way to the bridal shop.

"Sam!" Jasmine, radiant in a form-fitting white mermaid gown, flung herself into Samuel's arms.

He smiled as he gently adjusted the glittering tiara on her head and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. "You look stunning."

"Oh, this is stunning?" she teased, tilting her head with a playful pout. "What if the next one is even better?"

"Babe, let’s get one thing straight." Samuel wrapped his arm around her waist. "These dresses only look good because you make them look good."

Jasmine blushed, playfully hitting him. "You’re so annoying!"

The scene was unbearably romantic. The staff giggled and whispered, calling them a perfect match.

But Samuel had not been like this when I was trying on wedding dresses. He was always too busy. He would say that as long as I liked it, he had no opinion.

What was he busy with exactly? Helping Jasmine rewrite her job application.

"Ah…" Jasmine suddenly winced as she trembled.

Samuel quickly loosened his grip, guiding her to a chair. "Your leg acting up again?"

She smiled weakly. "Just a little."

"I swear I’ll catch Emilia one day," Samuel growled, teeth clenched. "You risked your life to go undercover as a hostage, trusting her with the plan, and she turned on you. She injured your legs, and you nearly ended up disabled."

No! That was not what happened! Jasmine was the traitor! Why was I being condemned based on her story alone? Samuel, where was your sense of justice, your thoroughness?

Rage twisted inside me, but it did not matter. Their love, their happiness—none of it could be touched.

"I was recommended a top orthopedic surgeon," Samuel said, his voice gentle again. "After the wedding, we’ll pay him a visit. I know how much you love wearing high heels."

"It’s fine." Jasmine smiled softly. "I’ll be in flats again when I’m pregnant, anyway."

"That’s not the same," Samuel insisted, taking her hand and placing a tender kiss on her fingers. His gaze was filled with sincerity. "Jas, I want you to live exactly how you want, every day, without having to compromise."

Her eyes misted over. "Oh, Sam…"

They kissed deeply, passionately.

I stood there, helpless, as my heart shattered into pieces. Echoing in my mind was the memory of Jasmine’s mocking voice on the night I died.

"So what if you and Sam are married? You’ll never compare to me, his one true love."

She was right. In Samuel’s heart, I had never been the one. He had never fully trusted me. The one for him was always Jasmine.

After groveling before rich scions—desperate to marry into wealth—and being cast aside because of her lowly background, Jasmine returned to Samuel’s side as his flawless, perfect crush. Everything about her was a noble sacrifice, a tragic circumstance.