My Husband Only Has Eyes for Another

Simon looked at Angela, the corners of his lips lifting into a gentle smile.

Just then, the driver pulled the car up to the entrance. When he saw me, he called out, "Mrs. Jensen…"

Angela didn't realize he was talking to me. She thought it was Simon calling her, so she laughed and playfully complained, "Why are you so naughty? When did I ever say yes to you?"

Simon flushed red in an instant. He glanced over at me, a flicker of panic in his eyes. But in the end, he still wrapped an arm around the drunken Angela and helped her into the car.

Amid the rain, the black Maybach slowly disappeared from my line of sight.

After it drove off, a familiar voice rang out beside me. "Was it worth it, doing all that for him?"

I smiled and said, "There's no such thing as worth it or not. Life is long. If something's bad for you, you just throw it away."

"I heard you've got a brand-new original design draft in the making."

I turned and met those bright, sparkling eyes. I teased, "Did you plant some kind of surveillance device on me, Mr. Rivers?"

…

When I got home, Simon still hadn't returned. The dim, silent living room was so quiet that it was almost frightening.

I slipped the ring off my left ring finger and tossed it aside. It hit the floor with a crisp clink, then rolled off somewhere. I didn't bother to see where it went.

I headed upstairs and pulled my suitcase out. But when I opened the wardrobe, I suddenly realized I barely had any decent clothes.

Ever since I married Simon, I'd become a full-time housewife. Aside from loungewear, I hardly had anything I could actually wear out. Even the engagement ring he'd given me back when he proposed didn't fit properly.

All these years, the thing I'd bought the most… turned out to be kitchenware.

Forget it. I didn't want to think about it anymore.

When the moving company guys arrived, I was in the middle of smashing my wedding photos with Simon.

They stepped into the foyer and froze. One of the older movers gave me a simple, honest smile. "Uh, so are you two getting a divorce?"

The younger guy next to him quickly slapped a hand over his mouth and looked at me apologetically. "I'm so sor—"

I smiled and answered, "Yes, we are."

The older mover rolled up his sleeves. "Alright, then. What do you need us to move?"

I pointed around the house, only then realizing that about 80% of everything here had been bought by me. I looked back at the two of them and said, "Uh, you might want to call a few more people over."

…

By the time I was settled in my own apartment, it was already 3:00 am.

I curled up on the couch, exhausted, and unlocked my phone. Right on top of the trending list was a photo of Simon carrying Angela into a hotel.

The articles read, "Domineering CEO's True Love", "Rising Supermodel Angela Stewart's Relationship Exposed", and "Angela Stewart Really Is Simon Jensen's True Love".

I remembered the day I married Simon. He'd been drunk out of his mind and kept calling Angela's name in our bridal suite.

Back then, I figured that everyone probably had someone they couldn't quite let go of. He did, and so did I. So what right did I have to demand so much from him?

The next morning, he was gentle and attentive, and he called me "honey" with such tenderness. He never said a word about what had happened on our wedding night.

I told myself that maybe he didn't remember, or maybe he was deliberately pretending not to.

But now, it was clear as day that he'd never really forgotten about Angela.

…

The next day, I was jolted awake by my phone ringing. When I answered the call, an enraged roar blasted through the speaker.

"Ava Chase! Where the hell have you run off to?"