I Give my Ex-husband the Best Gift ever on our Anniversary

The day I was lying in the hospital bed, mourning the suffocating silence in my womb where my five-month-old son used to be, was the same day I learned my husband was sleeping with his secretary—who also happened to be his best friend’s sister.

I thought I was dreaming back then but now it was all clear to me when I heard them in the study.

“You said you love me,” Kate hissed, her voice low but carrying sharply in the silence. “You said it a thousand times, Ysmael. So why not just divorce her? Why are we still sneaking around like teenagers? What is taking you so long?”

My hand froze on the doorknob. My breath hitched, lodging painfully in my throat.

Ysmael sighed, running a hand through his hair—a gesture I used to find endearing. Now, it looked calculated.

“Don’t tell me you love her?” Kate pressed, stepping closer to him. “Do you?”

“Of course I love my wife,” Ysmael replied.

The words should have been a balm. Instead, they felt like a slap. How could he say that? How could he claim to love me while standing inches away from his mistress?

“But I love you more, Kate. You know that. You’re the one who sets me on fire. She… she is my duty. My family.”

“Then leave her!”

“It’s complicated, baby. Especially now. She just lost the baby, Kate. She’s grieving. She’s fragile. If I serve her papers now, the press would eat me alive. And you know my family. They want a legitimate heir,” Ysmael said, his tone turning hard. “If we got pregnant now, out of wedlock, while I’m still married? They wouldn’t accept it. My grandfather would cut me off. And what about your brother? If he finds out I’m sleeping with his little sister while my wife is recovering from a miscarriage, he’ll kill me. He’d ruin the business partnership.”

“So I’m supposed to be like this forever?” Kate’s voice cracked, turning into a whine. “Just the secret? The other woman?”

“Of course not,” Ysmael cooed. He reached out, cupping her face. “Just wait a little longer. You know my grandpa is sick. He’s on his last legs. Soon, he will name his successor. Once I am Chairman, once the power is in my hands, I can do whatever I want. I can defy them. I can divorce her, pay her off, and bring you out into the light. I promise.”

“Fine,” Kate huffed, melting into his touch. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Kiss me now,” she demanded.

And he did.

I watched through the crack in the door as my husband lowered his head and captured her lips. It wasn’t a hesitant kiss. It was hungry. Possessive. It was the kiss of a man who had done this a thousand times before.

I didn’t storm out. I didn’t scream. The shock was a physical weight, pinning me to the floor. I backed away, step by silent step, until I hit the edge of the bed. I climbed back under the covers, pulling the duvet over my head, and let the hot, silent tears flow.

My baby was dead. My marriage was a lie. And the two people I trusted most were downstairs, plotting my disposal.

The next morning, the sun shone cruelly bright, mocking the darkness in my world.

I hadn’t slept. I had spent the night staring at the wall, my grief hardening into something cold and sharp. I needed to see if it was real. I needed to see if the monster I saw last night was the same man I had married.

I washed my face, hiding the red puffiness of my eyes with cold water, and walked downstairs.

The smell of bacon and coffee wafted from the kitchen. I walked through the archway and stopped.

They were there. Ysmael was leaning against the granite island, and Kate was standing between his legs. His hands were on her waist. Her hands were on his shoulders. Their faces were inches apart, their lips brushing in a whisper of intimacy that made my stomach turn.

I cleared my throat.

They sprang apart as if burned. Kate stumbled back, nearly knocking over a bowl of fruit. Ysmael spun around, his eyes wide.

“Alice!” Ysmael exclaimed. He adjusted his tie, a nervous tick. “You’re… you’re awake.”

“What is happening here?” I asked. My voice was raspy, dry.

For a second, there was silence. Then Kate let out a high, nervous laugh. She touched her neck, her fingers fluttering over a thin gold chain.

“Oh! Good morning, Alice,” she stammered, her cheeks flushed. “I… I was just asking Ysmael for help. With my necklace. The clasp… it got stuck. You know how tricky these things are.”

I looked at the necklace. It was a simple thing. The clasp was clearly in the back, yet she had been facing him.

“Right,” Ysmael jumped in, his composure returning. He put on that mask—the concerned, loving husband. It was terrifying how easily it slipped into place. “The clasp was jammed. But never mind that. How are you, darling? Should you be out of bed? You need to rest.”

He walked over to me, reaching out to touch my arm. I flinched, stepping back.

He paused, a flicker of annoyance crossing his eyes before he hid it. “Alice? What’s wrong?”

“I’m just… tired,” I lied.

“Of course you are,” he soothed. “Here, sit down. I made breakfast. You need to eat to get your strength back. For the future.”

He pulled out a stool for me. Kate was busy pretending to organize papers on the counter, refusing to meet my eyes.

“I’m not hungry,” I said.

“You have to eat,” Ysmael insisted, picking up a plate of eggs and toast. He held a forkful up, like I was a child. “Come on. Just a bite. For me? I know you’re sad about the baby, but we can try again. Once you’re healed. We have plenty of time.”

We can try again. The audacity of it made my blood boil.

I looked at the fork. I looked at Kate, who was watching us with a smug, possessive glint in her eyes.

“I said I’m full,” I said coldly. “Just eat it yourself, Ysmael.”

I turned on my heel and walked out of the kitchen.

“Alice!” he called after me, his voice tinged with warning.

I didn’t stop. I walked straight to the study—the one room where the signal was secure. I locked the door behind me.

My hands were trembling as I pulled my phone from my pocket. I dialed a number I hadn’t called since my wedding day.

It rang twice.

“Alice?” A deep, gravelly voice answered. “To what do I owe this pleasure? It’s been years.”

“Uncle Marcus,” I said. My voice was steady now. The tears were gone. “Do you remember that offer? The one about the overseas branch? The company you wanted me to handle in London? Please process my papers. I need a transfer. I need a flight. I’m leaving as soon as possible.”