He Chose Her Rival, I Chose Myself

The phone screen went dark in my palm. I stood alone in the staff restroom, staring at my pale reflection in the mirror above the sink.

*He kissed my forehead just now.*

Sarah’s text echoed in my skull. I gripped the porcelain edge of the sink until my knuckles turned white.

I closed my eyes, but the darkness offered no relief. It only dragged me backward, pulling my mind to a dirty alleyway twelve years ago.

"Give me the bag, little girl." The tall man cornered me against the damp brick wall.

"I don't have any money," I said.

"We'll see about that. Hand it over."

"Leave me alone," I whispered, clutching my high school backpack to my chest.

"Hey!" A voice shouted from the street.

Adam stepped into the narrow alley, his fists clenched. "Step away from her."

"Mind your business, kid," the second thug sneered, pulling a pocketknife.

Adam didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, swinging a heavy punch that caught the taller man squarely in the jaw.

A scuffle broke out. Punches landed with sickening thuds. Adam took a hard hit to the cheek, stumbling back against a dumpster.

The two men decided the fight wasn't worth the trouble. They turned and sprinted down the alley.

I rushed to him. "Your face."

Adam wiped a streak of blood from his split lip. He gave me a bright, reckless smile. "Did they hurt you, Dina?"

"No," I said, my voice trembling. "But you're bleeding."

"It's nothing," he promised.

I made my choice right then, looking at the boy who had risked his life for mine. "I'm going to become a doctor. I'll make sure I can always fix you."

He laughed, pulling me into a warm hug. "Then I'll build a company. We'll conquer the world together."

We did conquer it. Until the day I walked into his private office suite.

The heavy oak door to his lounge sat slightly ajar.

"Fuck, Adam," a woman moaned from inside.

"Keep your voice down," he grunted.

"Make me," she teased.

I froze. My hand hovered over the brass handle.

"Spread your legs wider, Sarah," Adam ordered.

I pushed the door open.

Adam had Sarah pinned against his mahogany desk. His dress pants were bunched around his ankles. He thrust his cock deep into her cunt, the wet slapping sounds echoing off the walls.

Sarah’s bare breasts bounced with every hard slam of his hips. She had her ankles wrapped tight around his waist.

"Fuck me harder," Sarah whined, her nails digging into his bare back. "Ruin my pussy."

"I'm fucking ruining it," Adam growled. He pulled his dick out completely before slamming it back inside her. "You take it so deep."

"Right there, Adam. Fuck, right there."

Stacks of financial reports scattered to the floor beneath them.

"Fuck yes, Adam," Sarah cried out, tossing her head back.

My vision blurred with red. I grabbed the heavy crystal vase from the side table and hurled it at the wall.

It shattered into a hundred jagged pieces.

Adam stopped. He pulled his cock out of Sarah, leaving her wet and exposed on the desk. He calmly pulled up his pants and zipped them.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I screamed.

I grabbed a bottle of scotch from the wine cabinet and smashed it against the floor. Glass and amber liquid exploded across the expensive rug.

"Dina, stop," Adam ordered, his tone entirely flat.

"Why?" I shrieked. I grabbed our framed wedding photo and threw it at his feet. The glass cracked over his polished shoes. "Why did you do this to me?"

He frowned, adjusting his belt. "Look at yourself. You are throwing a hysterical tantrum."

"You were fucking her on your desk!"

Sarah sat up, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked entirely bored by my presence.

"Sarah is elegant," Adam stated coldly, not even glancing at the broken glass. "She is a professional. She knows how to compose herself."

"I am your wife!" I yelled, tears streaming down my face.

"Not anymore," he replied. "I need a CEO's wife. Someone who can host charity dinners and corporate galas without breaking down like a child. Sarah fits that role. We are done, Dina."

The memory shifted to a stormy night a week later. Cold bathroom tiles against my bare legs.

The sharp sting of a razor slicing across my wrists. Blood turning the bathwater a deep, terrifying crimson. I had lost my entire world, and I just wanted the pain to stop.

Then came the blinding fluorescent lights of the ICU.

"Dina," a raw, broken voice pleaded.

I opened my heavy eyelids. Adam sat beside my hospital bed. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale and haggard.

"You came," I whispered, my throat dry.

He gripped my bandaged hand, pressing it desperately to his lips. "I'm here. I'm not leaving."

"Sarah?"

"She's gone," he swore, tears spilling onto my fingers. "I ended it."

"You chose her over me."

"I made a mistake. A massive, stupid mistake. Please, Dina. Don't ever do this again. I was a fool."

"You said we were done. You said she was better."

"I was wrong," he begged, dropping to his knees beside the bed. "Marry me again. Come back home. I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you."

I stared at his desperate face. I believed him. I forced myself to erase Sarah from my mind, burying the betrayal deep down.

I blinked, pulling myself violently out of the past. The stark lights of the hospital restroom buzzed overhead.

My reflection stared back at me. Still pale. Still foolish.

Today, in the emergency room, he hadn't looked at me with love. He had looked at Sarah with the exact same panic he had shown me in the ICU years ago.

He tore apart my hospital wing just to make sure her ankle wasn't broken.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. He didn't love me. He never stopped loving her.

The promises in the ICU meant nothing. He just felt guilty that I almost died. He didn't want my blood on his hands.

But his heart? His heart was in Trauma Room One, holding a ballerina with a sprained ankle.