After the Mudslide, I'm Outta Here

They all said Caleb Huxley worshipped the ground I walked on.

Ten years of relentless pursuit, ten years of indulgence-my slightest pout sent him into a tailspin.

I'd stake my life on his vows, ready to burn the world down at his command.

Then came the betrayals. Three strikes, no mercy.

First, a business party ambush.

Drugged by a rival, he woke up entangled with a college girl.

When I demanded a divorce, he shipped her overseas and stood outside my door, soaked in rain for three days. His haunted eyes and broken pleas-"Xandra, I'll never let you down again"-cracked my resolve.

I should've known better.

The second betrayal sliced deeper.

I found him at the hospital, hand clasped with that same girl's as she cradled her swollen belly.

"She saved my life," he sobbed, "and my mom's threatening suicide if I don't keep the baby. Once it's born, they'll disappear forever."

And like a fool, I believed him. Again.

I kept clutching at broken promises, convinced that if I held on tight enough, our love could be mended. But the third betrayal shattered every illusion.

At an auction, he went head - to - head with me over my mother's sapphire necklace, a cherished childhood memory. With cold determination, he outbid me again and again, and in the end, presented it to her.

I stormed into the VIP box.

His response? A tired sigh, a dismissive rub of his brows.

"Yara has prenatal depression. She wants the necklace."

"Give it to her? Please?" he pleaded.

I erupted into a laugh, wild and hysterical, as tears carved tracks down my cheeks. "And if I refuse?"

His frown turned to a scowl. "Stop being difficult. Yara's due any day. Once the baby's here, things will be normal."

Did he forget the nights he'd brave storms for my favorite cake?

Just then, Yara appeared, a ghostly figure leaning against the wall.

"My ankle... it's killing me..."

Her weak cry was the final nail in the coffin of our once - beautiful love story

He flung me aside like a ragdoll, scooping Yara into his arms without a backward glance.

I crashed into the sofa, my spine slamming into the table edge-pain exploded like fireworks.

"CALEB HUXLEY!" I screamed.

I stumbled to the car, bloodied lip between my teeth.

"Law office," I croaked.

Three hours later, divorce papers in hand, I found him at the hospital-he'd rented the entire floor, cooing as he promised to fly to Westbrook for her tiramisu.

The same things he once did for me.

Inside the VIP ward, Yara wept crocodile tears: "I just loved that necklace..."

I slapped the papers down.

"Sign it behind his back."

She grinned as she took them: "Thanks for letting our family be together."

"Family."

The word gouged my throat.

At the villa, I tossed memories into a box: his childhood scowl tugging my dress, the high school note that said "Only mine," the proposal ring.

I heaved the box into the trash like it held plague.

Dawn broke with a thunderous pounding.

The front door shook as if battering rams were on the other side.

Through the peephole, I saw Caleb-wild-eyed, drenched in rain, clutching a bluebery cake smashed to pulp in his hands.

I descended the stairs to maids hauling in Hermès, Cartier, Chanel-luxury spilling across the foyer.

Yara pouted: "It's too much," as he cooed, "Be good. For the baby."

Only then did his eyes land on me.

"Xandra-sorry, just got Yara gifts this time. Let me know what you want next."

Before I could breathe, Yara glided over, smiling, thrusting a manila envelope.

Inside: the divorce papers.

His signature-once scrawled on love letters-now a death sentence.

Elegant, sweeping, just like the day he promised forever.

My nose burned.

The signed papers trembled in my grasp, my heart crushed by an invisible fist.