Forgotten 100 Times: How I Became Someone Else's Forever

I pushed through the revolving glass doors of Gallagher Corp, running on two hours of sleep and a lukewarm coffee. My chest ached with a dull, persistent throb. I wanted to bury last night. I wanted to pretend the midnight confrontation in our living room never happened.

Five years of marriage deserved one more try.

I bypassed my own cubicle and walked straight toward the CEO's office. I didn't knock. I just turned the brass handle and pushed the heavy oak door inward.

"Anson, we need to—"

The words died in my throat.

White printer paper littered the Persian rug. The leather sofa in the corner was empty, but the massive mahogany desk was not. Bella sat perched on the edge of the wood, her bare legs wrapped around Anson’s waist. Her silk blouse hung open, exposing the lace trim of her bra. Anson stood between her knees, his hands resting firmly on her bare thighs.

Time stopped.

Bella gasped, yanking her collar together. She buried her face into Anson’s chest, trembling like a frightened bird.

Anson didn't jump back. He didn't push her away. Instead, he shifted his weight, instinctively shielding her body from my view.

He glared at me. "Do you not know how to knock?"

I stared at his hands. They were still resting on her skin.

"My mistake," I said, my voice eerily hollow. "I thought I was walking into my husband's office, not a brothel."

Anson’s jaw tightened. "Watch your mouth, Ivy. It's not what it looks like."

"Really?" I tilted my head. "Because it looks like you're undressing her."

"She was having a severe panic attack," Anson snapped, stepping back just enough to pull Bella’s jacket over her shoulders. "She couldn't breathe. Her clothes were restricting her."

"So you unbuttoned her shirt."

"I helped her calm down."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I didn't scream. I didn't throw the ceramic mug sitting on the edge of the desk. I just stood there, realizing how pathetic I had been. I was the intruder here. I was the third wheel in my own marriage.

Anson finally noticed my pale face. The anger in his eyes flickered, replaced by a sudden flash of guilt. He took a half-step toward me, his hand reaching out.

"Ivy, listen to me," he started, lowering his tone. "She showed up here in tears. She was hyperventilating. I was just trying to comfort her. You know her nerves are shot."

"I know," I answered flatly. "Her nerves are always shot."

"Don't be cruel."

"I'm being observant."

Bella peeked out from behind his shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed, swimming with fresh tears. She let out a soft, pathetic sob.

"Anson, I'm so sorry," she whispered, grabbing his sleeve. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have come. I'm ruining your marriage."

Anson’s hand dropped before it ever reached me. He spun around, pulling Bella into a tight embrace.

"Stop saying that," he murmured, stroking her hair. "You didn't do anything wrong. You needed help."

He didn't even look at me.

I watched his thumb trace circles on her back. A memory forced its way into my mind, sharp and uninvited.

"You stood in the pouring rain for four hours," I said.

Anson paused, glancing over his shoulder. "What?"

"Sophomore year. Outside my dorm." I kept my posture rigid. "You swore you only wanted me. You promised I would always be your priority."

"Ivy, don't do this right now."

"When we got married, things were perfect." I took a step closer, my eyes locked on his face. "Then she came back from Paris three years ago."

"She went through a terrible breakup," Anson argued, his voice rising. "She was depressed."

"And she never got better."

"She's trying!"

"Is she?" I pointed at the woman cowering against him. "Because from where I stand, she just uses her anxiety as a leash. And you bark every time she pulls it."

"Shut up!" Anson yelled.

The office fell completely silent. The echo of his shout bounced off the glass windows.

"Last month, I spent three days in the hospital with a hundred-and-four-degree fever," I reminded him, my tone dropping to a deadly calm. "You left after an hour."

Anson swallowed hard. "Bella was terrified of the thunderstorm. The power went out at her place."

"I was on an IV drip, Anson."

"You had doctors around you! You were safe!" He ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly frustrated. "When are you going to grow up, Ivy? When are you going to stop being so jealous?"

"Jealous." The word felt foreign on my tongue.

"Yes. You act like a child. Bella only has me. You have a whole life, a career, friends. She needs my support."

"What about our anniversary?" I pressed, refusing to let him off the hook. "You left the restaurant before the appetizers arrived because she found a spider in her bathtub."

"She has severe arachnophobia!"

"She has a rolled-up magazine!" I shot back. "She didn't need you to drive across town to kill a bug. She just needed to know you would drop me the second she called."

"That is insane," Anson scoffed. "We've known each other since we were kids. Her parents asked me to look out for her before they passed."

"And my parents asked you to protect me when we stood at the altar. Which vow matters more?"

Anson opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked at Bella, then back at me, his silence answering the question louder than any excuse could.

I looked at Bella. She was watching me through the gap in Anson's arm, a tiny, triumphant smirk playing at the corner of her mouth before she quickly hid it behind another sob.

I didn't feel angry anymore. The fiery rage that usually consumed me during these fights had completely burned out. There was nothing left but ash.

"You're right," I said quietly.

Anson blinked, caught off guard by my sudden agreement. "I am?"

"She does only have you." I reached for my left hand. "And now, you only have her."

I gripped the diamond ring on my finger. It slid off easily. Too easily.

"What are you doing?" Anson demanded, his voice laced with sudden panic.

I walked forward and placed the platinum band on the center of his desk. The metal clinked against the polished wood, ringing out like a final bell.

"Ivy, put that back on."

"No."

"Stop throwing a tantrum. I told you, nothing happened between us."

"It doesn't matter if you slept with her or not, Anson." I met his gaze one last time. "You chose her. You choose her every single day. I'm done waiting for my turn."

"You can't just walk out!" he shouted, taking a step away from Bella.

"I just did."

I turned on my heel and walked toward the door.

"Ivy!"

I didn't stop. I didn't look back. I stepped into the hallway and let the heavy oak door click shut behind me.

Inside the office, Anson stared at the glittering diamond resting on his desk. A strange, suffocating tightness gripped his chest, a sudden warning that he had pushed too far. He took a step toward the door, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Anson?" Bella whimpered, her fingers curling tightly into his shirt. "Are you going to leave me?"

He froze. He looked at the closed door, then down at the trembling woman in his arms.

He didn't chase me. He stayed right where he always did. But as he stared at the empty doorway, a shadow crossed his face, a chilling realization that this time, I wasn't coming back.