Ten Times He Cheated, Now I Belong To The Man He Hated

The night before the divorce, my mind was a battlefield. Memories swarmed me without mercy.

Curtis and I grew up in the same neighborhood. Even back then, he always saved me the juiciest slice of melon, stood between me and the school bullies, and never forgot the little things I loved—using his allowance to surprise me with gifts I barely mentioned once.

It wasn't until a classmate confessed to me in middle school that Curtis seemed to realize what he wanted. He sent that boy packing and made damn sure he was the one walking me home.

We grew up, and our relationship shifted, but we never drifted apart. After high school, we went to the same college. Life felt seamless. Perfect.

So when the unthinkable happened, I was blindsided. A night out with friends. A fire at home. Curtis ran through the flames trying to pull my barely-breathing mom out. His back was a brutal canvas of burns and scars, and still, all he kept saying was, "I'm sorry, Mr. Burke... I couldn't save her."

In the end, Mom didn't make it.

Standing alone beside two graves, I felt gutted. Hollow. "I don't have a home anymore," I whispered.

Curtis squeezed my hand then. "Thea, don't be scared. Once I'm old enough, I'm marrying you. I'll give you a home that never falls apart."

And just like that, every emotion I'd been holding back finally broke loose. I clung to him, sobbing into his chest. I held on so tight it hurt the wounds on his back, and I remember that strong teenage boy curling in on himself, wincing.

The doctor said he'd heal, but the scars would stay. Guilt ate at me, and I promised him, "Curtis, if you ever mess up, I'll forgive you."

He laughed. "Is there a limit?"

I thought for a moment. "Nine times. The tenth time, we go our separate ways."

He'd been so sure of himself. "Nine is too many. I won't even need one. Curtis Washington and Thea Burke, together forever."

But by our second year of marriage, he'd already slept with his new assistant. When I kept quiet about it, he took that as a free pass—a second time. A third.

He'd forgotten the agreement. He thought my love meant I had no limits, that I'd swallow my pride and stay.

Then one night, he came home early for once, another woman's perfume clinging to his collar. He sidled up to me with a smirk. "Thea, as long as you behave yourself, you'll always be Mrs. Washington."

I didn't feel angry or sad. I just noted it. Another tick in the mental ledger I kept.

The rumors started soon after. Word in the social circles was that if anyone needed a lesson in endurance, they should look at Curtis's wife—the poster girl for putting up with anything.

They didn't know I wasn't enduring for him. I was honoring that fearless eighteen-year-old boy who once ran into a fire for my mom.

A month ago, I saw a fresh mark on Curtis's neck. The tenth time.

His immunity card had run out.

My voice shook just a little when I asked, "Mosquito bite you?"

Curtis smirked, too arrogant to even lie. "Met this girl. She's not trained yet. Bit me out of frustration. It won't happen again."

I let out a long breath and finally said the words I'd been holding back for years. "There won't be a next time, Curtis. Let's get a divorce."

Sunlight streamed through the curtains as I woke from the dream. Tears still clung to my pillow. But for the first time, I wasn't shattered. More than anything, I felt light.

It was finally over.