Valentine’s Day Betrayal

I looked up at Taylor, my nails digging so deep into my palms that they nearly broke the skin.

Ethan let out an impatient sigh. “It’s late. Why aren’t you staying home where you belong? What are you doing here?

“And now you’ve ruined the mood, stirring up trouble for no reason!”

Tears slipped silently down my cheeks.

Not only had he forgotten about our Valentine’s Day, but the promises he once made—to cherish me for a lifetime, to always treat me well—had also crumbled into nothing.

I took a deep breath, swallowing my pain.

“You’re unbelievable, Ethan. Weren’t you the one who told me to come? If I hadn’t, I never would’ve witnessed this little performance of yours.”

His expression darkened.

“Don’t push your luck, Claire! It’s bad enough that you can’t have children, and you act like a lifeless corpse all day. If you can’t satisfy me, why shouldn’t I find someone else?”

I glanced down at my still-flat stomach, a wave of bitterness washing over me.

For three years of marriage, I had tried every remedy and tonic to prepare my body, hoping to give Ethan the family he wanted.

I had swallowed those bitter concoctions until I was sick, until I was dizzy, until my body felt like it no longer belonged to me.

But to Ethan, all of this was simply my duty as a wife, something he took for granted.

He never noticed the struggle it took for me to swallow those medicines, nor did he ever acknowledge the physical and emotional toll it took on me.

Three months ago, I found out I was pregnant.

I had tried to tell Ethan several times, but he always brushed me off, using work as an excuse.

And now, in the cruelest way possible, he had torn my heart to shreds.

How could he?

“Let’s get a divorce, Ethan.”

I spoke with determination, my expression resolute.

For a moment, he looked stunned, as if I had said something utterly absurd. Then, a mocking smirk crept across his face.

“Divorce? Do you really think you can survive without me? Don’t be ridiculous. You live off me—without me, you’re nothing.

“Why don’t you just behave and play your part as Mrs. Scott? I’ll let bygones be bygones, and you’ll continue to enjoy a life of luxury. Isn’t that a win-win for both of us?”

Before I could respond, Taylor sighed and chimed in with a feigned look of concern.

“That’s right, Claire. Ethan still cares about you. Just earlier, he was talking about surprising you for Valentine’s Day.”

She turned to him, but her words were meant for me.

“We’re all adults here. A little fun isn’t a big deal, right? Don’t take it to heart…”

As she spoke, she picked up a bottle and aimed it at the scattered condoms on the floor.

“Have you ever played with water balloons? They’re soft and feel just right against your skin. You should try it.”

The still-warm latex pressed against my arm.

My stomach lurched violently. The nausea surged up my throat, and I couldn’t hold it back—I vomited.

The bile splattered across Taylor’s dress and hair.

“Claire! You did that on purpose!” she shrieked.

She frantically tried to wipe herself clean, glaring at me with fury.

The entire room fell into stunned silence.

Ethan was livid. He stormed over and jabbed a finger in my face as he shouted.

“You’ve gone too far, Claire! Taylor was just joking. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”

Then he shoved me to the ground.

My hands landed in the disgusting mess of latex and bile, soaking into my skin.