My Husband Crashed My Second Wedding

After the blowout, I sent Caspian Snyder the photos — me and some young guy, tangled up in my bed.

"I've been unfaithful. I've fallen for someone else."

"Let's just get a divorce. I don't want a thing from you."

For a few beats, my phone stayed silent. Then he called.

"Christina, have you lost your damn mind? Is this your sick way of getting back at me?"

Even through the phone, I could feel his fury radiating. But what about my feelings on those countless nights I knew he was wrapped around some other woman? Did anyone ever care about that?

"Just sign the papers, Caspian. We can end this peacefully—"

Before I could even finish, he hung up.

Ten minutes later, he burst through the door, eyes bloodshot, radiating a darkness so thick it felt suffocating.

"Hey…"

The boy beside me snuggled closer into my arms, looking up at me with those big, tear-filled eyes — so pitiful it would tug at anyone's heartstrings.

But Caspian wasn't having it. He lunged forward, yanked the kid off the bed, and shoved him to the floor. "Get the hell out!" he roared.

The boy scrambled up, terrified, and scurried out under Caspian's murderous glare.

Through it all, I stayed calm, watching in silence.

Watching him come undone — losing every shred of control because of me — felt strangely satisfying.

After all, I didn't love him anymore. The ten-year agreement with my father had run its course.

I was finally free.

—

Caspian hauled me off the bed and dragged me into the bathroom, nearly stumbling with every step.

On the shower glass, two intertwined handprints were still visible — a ghostly reminder of the chaos that had gone down.

Rage blazed in his eyes as he shoved me into the bathtub and grabbed a sponge, scrubbing at the colorful marks staining my skin like he could erase what happened.

"You know, an eighteen-year-old has way more stamina than you ever did."

I turned to face his bloodshot gaze, a smile curling on my lips.

"We went at it for over ten hours straight — like a machine that just wouldn't quit."

"And not just in bed. The couch. The bathroom. The dining table."

"We hit every spot we could—"

"Stop it, Christina. Please. Just stop."

Pain flickered across Caspian's eyes. His voice came out raw and shaky.

He sank to the floor, looking hollow. Broken.

"I already ended things with Marina. What more do you want from me? Do you need her gone entirely before you're satisfied?"

"You ended things? Then why do I still get photos of her in your bed — every single day?"

I fired back with a cold smile, my own eyes burning with tears I refused to shed.

"Why does she still flaunt the gifts you gave her like trophies?"

"Why does she keep sending me messages, calling me an old hag, telling me to just die already since I won't let you go?"

I hurled my phone at his feet, the messages from Marina glowing on the screen.

Caspian froze. For a long moment, he said nothing — just stared. Finally, with his eyes squeezed shut, he spoke.

"I'll make sure she never bothers you again."

"And—"

His gaze turned cold, hardening as it locked onto me.

"Today never happened. You're staying home. You don't step foot outside."

…But there wouldn't be a next time.

I told myself that.

Because I was leaving soon.