I Was Never the Wife

I froze. Every drop of blood turned to ice.

My heart sank like it was full of lead.

Zachary had said it.

Cathryn was his wife.

I was just... a game.

Disposable.

For the first time, I was scared. Too scared to keep watching.

I ran.

Later, he texted.

[Baby, I have to go on a business trip for a few days. Don't be mad—I'll make it up to you when I'm back.]

I stared at the screen, tears falling, hands shaking as I typed—

[Are you really on a business trip? Or just spending time with your wife?]

But I didn't send it.

I just cried.

Then deleted it.

One word at a time.

What was the point in exposing him?

Could I really take back someone who betrayed me?

No.

I couldn't.

But still...

My heart was wrecked.

And I'd never felt so alone.

***

Four days later, Zachary showed up with a massive bouquet and that fake-soft smile. "Baby, I'm home."

I stared at him, blank.

He stalled, then shoved the flowers into my arms. "Don't be mad. Work's been insane. I wouldn't have bailed otherwise."

I dropped the bouquet on the table. "Not mad. If you've got work, go do it."

He blinked, thrown off by how chill I sounded. Then he brushed my cheek and grabbed my hand. "I've got a surprise. Let's go."

Didn't wait for an answer—just pulled me straight to the car.

Ten minutes later, we pulled up at a theater.

The second I stepped inside, it hit me—the whole place was reserved. And every face there? Familiar.

Whispers kicked in fast.

"There she is. Perfect couple, huh?"

"Mr. Jurg really went big—rented out the whole theater for Mrs. Jurg."

"She's into plays, so he flew in some international troupe just for her."

"Everyone knows he spoils his wife. Classic Jurg move."

The room buzzed with envy. Zachary clutched my hand like he was the dream husband.

All I could do was laugh inside.

My chest felt iced over. Frozen solid.

This grand public love story? Total act. Behind the scenes, the real title belonged to someone else.

He gave me a fake name, a fake life—while legally tying himself to another woman.

What a sick joke.

As soon as I sat down, a sharp cramp hit my lower stomach. I pressed a hand there.

Zachary clocked it. "Period? Hurting bad?"

I nodded. "Need some stuff."

He didn't miss a beat—hand on my stomach, rubbing gently, then pulling out his phone to order painkillers and hygiene stuff.

The whole time, he kept massaging, handed me warm water, acting like I was still his world.

Then someone came rushing up behind us.

We both turned.

Cathryn.

She was smiling, but she looked like a wreck—soaked clothes, pale face. "Mr. Jurg, I brought what you asked for."

Zachary frowned. "Why you? I told someone else. It's pouring out—and you're not well. Why push yourself?"

She bit her lip, all soft and wounded. "Everyone else was busy. I didn't want you and Ms. Arden waiting too long... so I came."

Then she handed me the bag, tone icy, eyes throwing shade.

"Ms. Arden, maybe next time bring your own stuff. Kinda overkill to send the company scrambling for something so minor."