When My Husband Chose His Mistress Midair
On my thirtieth birthday, Kevin took me on a helicopter ride—alongside his beloved Anya Lawson, no less. Midway through the flight, we encountered a mechanical failure, and there were only two parachutes available. Faced with the decision of saving me or saving her, he unhesitatingly chose her. "Anya's life is just beginning," he explained, "and I can't let it end here. Don't worry, once we're safe, I'll come back for you."
He had no idea that I had staged the malfunction to test him. Kevin hurriedly assisted Anya with her parachute, anxiety etched on his face, desperate to ensure the safety of his cherished one. I remained silent, observing the scene unfold. Kevin secured his own parachute, holding Anya's hand firmly. Just before jumping, he looked at me. "Maya, please don't hold this against me.
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Chapter 4
Anya was taken to the hospital room, while Kevin pinned me to the ground, demanding I apologize to her. His eyes were blazing with anger as he glared at me.
"Maya, apologize to Anya right now! Or I swear you won't get away with it."
Anya lay on the bed, looking frail and worn out. "I'm... I'm okay, Kevin. Don't be upset because of me," she mumbled. "It's not the end of the world if I'm gone."
Kevin rushed to her side, his face filled with concern. "No, Anya, you are the most amazing woman ever," he assured her. "You have to live your life to the fullest. I still want to take you to Paris, to the Swiss Alps, and countless other places."
I recalled when I used to dream of visiting those places with Kevin. Back then, he promised me, "I'll definitely take you there, Maya."
But now, those promises seemed forgotten. I should have seen long ago that he was no longer mine.
The last time, he was with Anya in our car, doing things I couldn't bear to dwell on. Before that, he took her on a hot air balloon ride and even gifted her a motorcycle with their names engraved on it.
With each of those moments, my heart gradually broke.
"Maya, this is all your fault. If it weren't for you, Anya wouldn't have gotten hurt," Kevin accused, storming over and grabbing my hair. He wanted to hit me but held back because of the child I carried.
"Maya, if this happens again, I swear I'll ruin your family financially."
But he didn't realize that I no longer cared about any of it. All I wanted was a divorce.
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8.5
I woke to sunlight streaming through my bedroom curtains and the soft ping of an incoming text. Twenty-nine today. I stretched languidly, reaching for my phone with a smile already forming on my lips. "Can't wait to celebrate you tonight," Ryan's message read. My heart fluttered as I hugged the phone to my chest. Five years together, and he still made me feel this way—like the luckiest woman in Manhattan. Tonight would be special; I could feel it. Our favorite restaurant in SoHo, candlelight reflecting in Ryan's hazel eyes, maybe even... I pushed away the thought of a ring, not wanting to jinx anything. I spent the morning floating through my apartment, trying on dresses before settling on a midnight blue silk that Ryan once said brought out the silver flecks in my eyes.
8.2
I had just sold my entire art collection, a massive sum that was supposed to be our new beginning. I couldn't wait to see the look on my husband Axel's face.
But when he walked through the door, he didn't see a successful artist. He saw a cheater.
"Who did you sleep with for that money?" he spat, his words fueled by his mother's poison.
His rage exploded. He tore my studio apart, shredding my life's work. Then he turned on me, kicking my pregnant belly until I miscarried our child on the floor of my ruined dreams.
As I lay there, bleeding and broken, a call came from the fertility clinic. The paternity test was positive. The baby he had just killed was his own.
He fell to his knees, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. But the man I married was gone. He had destroyed my art, my mother, and my child.
Now, it was my turn to destroy him.
8.2
The plastic bag crinkled against my palm as Cameron thrust it toward me, his smile stretched wide across his face like he'd just presented me with the crown jewels. "Happy birthday, Em. I picked these out myself."
I stared at the wrinkled grocery bag, the kind we used for trash, and felt something cold settle in my stomach. This was it? After three years of marriage, this was how my twenty-eighth birthday began? "Go on, open it," Cameron urged, settling onto our threadbare couch with the satisfied air of a man who'd just solved world hunger. "I think you'll really like what I found."
My fingers trembled as I reached inside, pulling out a floral sundress. The fabric felt soft enough, a cheerful yellow pattern that might have been pretty once. Might have been, if it hadn't reeked of someone else's perfume – something floral and expensive that made my nose wrinkle. "There's more," Cameron said, watching my face intently.
9.3
I stared at the pregnancy test in my trembling hands, the two pink lines blurring through my tears of joy. Four times. This was the fourth time I'd held such a test, but unlike the previous three that had ended in devastating loss, something felt different about this moment. Maybe it was the way the evening light filtered through our penthouse windows, casting everything in golden warmth, or maybe it was simply the stubborn hope that refused to die despite everything we'd endured. "This time will be different," I whispered to the empty apartment, my voice echoing off the marble floors. "This time, our baby will make it."
Lawson wouldn't be home for another hour, which gave me time to prepare something special. I wanted this announcement to be perfect—a moment we'd remember forever when we told our child about the night we first knew they existed. Moving through our home with renewed purpose, I lit dozens of vanilla candles throughout the living room, their soft glow transforming the sterile elegance into something intimate and magical. I selected Lawson's favorite wine from our collection, a bottle of Château Margaux we'd been saving for a special occasion. What could be more special than this?
9.5
For nine years, I poured my soul into proving I was worthy of my wealthy boyfriend, Clayton Wright. I endured his endless, humiliating "tests," sacrificing everything for a place in his world.
But at our engagement party, the final test was revealed. He stood by as his ex-girlfriend, Anjelica, framed me for shattering a priceless family heirloom.
"You manipulative bitch!" he snarled, slapping me across the face. He then ordered his bodyguard to force me to my knees, grinding them into the sharp, broken fragments of the watch.
As I bled on the floor, he pulled out his phone and gave a single command: demolish my childhood home, the last piece I had of my deceased father.
He destroyed my past and my dignity, yet minutes later, my phone buzzed with a message from him.
"The engagement is just for show. I'll still marry you. You're my destiny."
That night, clutching the last of my father's life insurance, I booked a one-way ticket and vanished. He thought he had finally broken his little project, but he had just unleashed a woman with nothing left to lose.
7.9
The night I found out that Elise had accepted Joseph's proposal, my usually composed and rational husband drank until he was senseless. Despite my discomfort, I stayed by his side, tending to him late into the night. He was moved by my care and promised me a proper wedding ceremony. I was thrilled, thinking that after seven long years, he had finally let Elise go. But when I tried on the wedding dress, I found out he had blocked me from his Instagram. "I don't want regrets in my youth. Just say the word, and I’ll come running to you."
It turns out marrying me was his regret. Our seven years together meant nothing compared to the brief days he spent with Elise. Now, I have no regrets about my youth. They say snooping through your partner's phone is bound to hurt.