Three Years Married, Love Split in Half

The call ended quickly.

Antonio frowned, looking at me with hesitation. "Sorry, there's an emergency at work. I..."

I nodded lightly, my nonchalance throwing him off.

He clenched his jaw, sighing. "Forget it. No work is more important than you. It's our third anniversary. I'm staying."

But within five minutes, his phone kept buzzing.

I counted until the seventh call.

He squirmed. "Honey, it's a big deal at work. I have to go."

He grabbed the cake with Clarisse's name, adding, "I'll toss this on the way."

I laughed bitterly as he hurried off.

At this point, he was still using work as a cover.

Tears streamed down my face, but my resolve to leave hardened.

Losing no time, I called my lawyer to draft a divorce agreement.

Late into the night, chilly wind came in through the open window.

Antonio finally remembered me, calling with his usual warm tone, playing the perfect husband.

"Work is done. I'm heading back. Want anything? I know you love shrimp tacos. I'll grab some."

If I hadn't seen those photos, I might've been touched.

He always remembered what I liked. But now, it didn't stir anything in me.

"No thanks. I'm over them."

"No way. You said you wanted them the night before. It's fine. I've already got them ordered. Be home soon."

He hung up before I could refuse.

I stared at a new text. My heart stayed calm.

The man wearing our wedding ring cut a cake with Clarisse.

[Antonio is so bossy, making me eat cake and shrimp tacos this late. I'm gonna gain weight. Next time, he's working out with me all night.]

In the photo's corner was a half-eaten plate of shrimp tacos. The sight of it sent a pang of resentment through me.

I was his wife. Yet Antonio split everything in two, even his time.

Worse, Clarisse always came first.

I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled, the metallic taste flooding my mouth.

When Antonio returned, my eyes were red. He bounded in, setting down the tacos and grabbing my hand.

"Your hands are freezing," he said with concern. "You gotta stay warm when I'm not here, or you'll get sick. I'll make you some ginger tea."

He rambled, closed the window, and headed to the kitchen.

Soon, the doorbell rang.

Clarisse showed up and handed him a bag of ginger.

She smiled at me, her words loaded. "Antonio is nice, making you ginger tea. I hope I get that kind of luck someday, marrying someone who loves me like that."

I looked up at the woman whom I had heard so much of.

This was our first meeting.

She was stunning with pale skin and long, wavy hair.

"If you like, you can stay for tea," I said.