On Valentine's Day, the hottest new Oscar winner and his first love trended on X with their "Lost and Found" love story.

The internet went wild, shipping them hard while throwing shade my way.

Meanwhile, Jackson Williams was drowning his sorrows at the bar, drunkenly pushing me away, "Beat it, you aren't my Emily."

Well, you're not my Chris either.

1

It was no secret: Jackson Williams married me on a rebound when his first love, Emily Troutt, bolted for a study abroad gig.

Before getting married, he was as nice to me as a grumpy cat, kicking me when he was ticked off.

When Emily jetted off without a second look, Jackson, in a fit of spite, whisked me off to City Hall to get hitched.

By our second anniversary, he'd turned over a new leaf.

He'd wake me with a gentle nudge, and share a table with me for three square meals a day.

He'd kiss me with a grin whenever I acted all cutesy and clingy.

He'd ditch work to let me snuggle on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

When we really connected, it was magic between the sheets.

His whispers in the night were pure temptation.

"Honey, let's make a baby."

When my pregnancy started to show at social gatherings, he'd stroke my baby bump, his eyes soft with tenderness.

That's when I thought he might really let go of Emily and just fall for me.

Our friends were all about how sweet and solid we were together.

Sadly, Emily decided to return.

And just like that, everything went sideways.

The night Emily came back, Jackson was already out, numbing his pain with booze and buddies at a bar.

He knew his old flame was back in town before I did but kept it under wraps.

A buddy called, urging me to drag him home.

Battling the storm, I pushed into the VIP section of the bar, soaked to the bone, to find Jackson plastered and miserable.

He looked beaten, knocking back shots, immune to anyone's pleas.

Spotting me, a friend of his quickly signaled to Jackson.

"Man, your lady, all pregnant and drenched, came to fetch you. Time to head home."

"Totally, she hates the stink of booze on you. Better make it up to her, pronto."

As the crowd egged us on, I approached Jackson, the bottom of my white dress dripping wet.

Concerned about his post-surgery heart, I tried to snatch the cigarette from his lips, but he shoved me away.

Jackson's tone was frosty, "Beat it, you aren't my Emily."

Amid the crowd's shock, someone hollered they'd seen Emily at the entrance.

Jackson hesitated, then made to bolt outside. I clutched at his sleeve.

"The press is swarming out there. You'll get snapped. Jen's handling it—just hold tight."

He glanced back, his gaze cutting deep.

"Butt out, or I'll make you regret it."

I recoiled, letting go of him.

All eyes were on us as Jackson, for a possibly non-existent first love, ditched his pregnant wife.

I was already beaten without even seeing Emily face to face.

I spent that whole night on the living room sofa, under a light blanket, with the table lamp glowing. Jackson never came home.

Oscar-winner Jackson Williams Spotted at a Bar with an Unknown Woman became an X sensation.

I ignored every one of Jen's desperate calls.

At dawn, Emily tweeted from her long-dormant account.

"The crush of youth and the love of now can finally be spoken aloud."

"Thankful for the twists of fate that brought you back to my side from the complicated trap, never to part again."

The attached photo showed two silhouettes embracing by a window.

A mirror in the corner caught their reflection.

Zooming in, I saw the diamond ring I'd given Jackson, now on Emily's hand, nestled in his embrace.

In the soft moonlight, their eyes spoke volumes of tender love.

To think, after all the nights I spent cooking for Jackson and reminding him to take his meds, I'd be dismissed as just a "complicated trap."

With the news already buzzing, Emily's post blew up with comments fast.

"Cheating is ugly and I don't approve of it, but with Emily, Jackson's love is real."

"The real outsider here is Zoe, she should step back."

"Remember who braved the snow to warm your hands on set, Jackson?"

"Big deal, Zoe's efforts don't hold a candle to a single word from his first love."

I didn't dwell on their words. Instead, I lost myself in the photo of Jackson looking so tender.

I'd seen that look in someone else's arms too.

But each time I woke up from those dreams, I was clutching a pillow soaked with tears.

Time for a divorce.

I'm done wasting my life.