At my birthday bash, my wife of nine years, Elara Blake, boldly brought her old flame.

During the party, he suggested he share a toast with my wife.

She didn't skip a beat before agreeing.

As jaws dropped around the room, I didn't cause a scene or make a dramatic exit. Instead, I clapped and called out, "Is this the party theme now? How about an encore kiss?"

"Mr. Blake, Elara's three sheets to the wind. I'm taking her home. Hope I'm not crashing your night?"

I watched with narrowed eyes as another man scooped up my wife to take her home.

I stepped up to lend a hand.

But Elara brushed me off.

Clinging to him, she whispered, "Leo, stay with me. You know how much you mean to me? I really do..."

Her declaration floored me.

It was like a punch to the gut, each word twisting the knife deeper.

In that moment, she seemed more isolated and daunting than ever.

"Mr. Blake, keep tabs on Elara. Letting her roam drunk at this hour is playing with fire. Catch you later, Mr. Blake."

He dumped her in my arms with a smirk that was a mix of triumph and scorn.

How could I miss the play he was making?

That was pure hostility.

He wasn't just her fantasy anymore; he was throwing down the gauntlet, aiming to replace me.

I ushered my wife to bed.

She was totally plastered.

Yet, she kept mumbling, "Leo, you're way better than him."

"You get me more than he ever did."

"Over the five years we've been together, he's never tuned into what I need."

"He's all about his business and his cash."

"He doesn't know me at all..."

"You're the only one who really sees me..."

Listening to her babble in her drunken stupor, I slumped to the floor, back against the wall.

As she spilled her guts, my own heart shattered.

I've known her since high school.

I crushed on her for three long years. I had the chops for an Ivy League spot—think Harvard or Yale.

But I chose her college just to stay close.

Once there, I went all out to win her over, and by sophomore year, she was mine.

I treasured her like gold.

I doted on her, met her every whim, and held her like something precious.

Senior year, I popped the question.

But she laid it on thick, "No man conquers me easily. If you want a 'yes,' scale Everest first."

I dove headlong into that challenge.

Nearly met my maker on that peak.

Moved by my ordeal, she said "yes" to marriage.

And I've been off-kilter ever since.

Post-wedding, she always pitted me against the world.

"See Aurora Sinclair? Her hubby pulls in over 20 grand a month, and you're scraping by? How can you even face yourself?"

"Remember Seraphina Blackwood? Her guy's a big shot with a BMW—pretty slick."

"Celeste Ravenscroft's beau snagged a pad in Manhattan. I hear it's sky-high per square foot. Isn't it time we ditch this dump?"

"You never care about what's on my mind, just your games and streams!"

Her constant digs and airs pushed me to the edge.

I ditched my day job and bet it all on a startup.

Kicking off my business was like surviving on crumbs. Pennies in the pockets, all we had were plain buns, day after grueling day.

But somehow, those lean times really brought us together.

She was my rock—every time I stumbled, she was there to pick me up.

She threw herself into solving problems, no matter how tough.

Once, she even joined me for drinks with a client, guzzling enough to impress but wound up in the ER.

Fast forward a few years, and our business was finally booming.

But the aftermath of my Everest climb for her love, combined with relentless business stress, had my health in the gutter.

Eventually, it knocked me flat.

Doc was blunt, "Take it easy at home, no more grinding."

Thankfully, the biz was on solid ground. We decided she'd take the reins while I played househusband.

At first, it was smooth sailing.

She hit the ground running.

But then, a year on, our fifth anniversary rolled around, and I was pumped for a surprise. Told her to be home early.

I went all out all day long for the special day.

And our place was decked out like a love nest, sheer heaven.

Balloons, flowers, candlelit dinner, red wine, and a huge throwback photo from our fifth year...

It looked like a scene from a rom-com.

But the clock ticked on, and I was microwaving dinner over and over.

She was a no-show.

At nine, her text hit, "Tied up with a client tonight, might run late. Hit the hay without me. Love ya, babe."

That text was a gut punch.

But remembering her hustle for our dream, I let it slide.

Just me and my wine, then.

Out of the blue, a buddy sent over a snapshot—

There was Elara, cozy with some dude at a bistro.

They were toasting with that "just married" look in their eyes, which shattered my heart.

She was supposed to be working with a client, but this? Smelled like date night!

Cheating? That's a one-way ticket to splitsville!

I was seeing red, and fired off a text to my buddy, needing the lowdown.

He shot back another pic quick.

Elara, cheers-ing with the mystery man.

He dropped the details too—the hotel name, table number.

I was a wreck...

I had given her the best years of my life, my purest love.

And just because of a few of her words, I tackled Everest because she dared me, and came back broken.

I left a steady gig to chase this pipe dream, worsening my health when she threw out her complains about current life.

I did it all for her—no regrets, never a peep.

I'd never seen this coming after all I had done.

This is how she repays me? With carelessness and cold betrayal?

She was still chasing thrills with other guys, never satisfied.

Though flashed into my mind as I stared at those anniversary photos I hung up, once sweet memories, now just bitter reminders.

Lost in thought for so long, I finally dialed her up again, "When are you coming home?"

"I... I'm neck-deep in a major deal. Can't talk... I'll fill you in when I get back..."

Her breathy excuses spoke volumes on the phone.

Clearly sidestepping the truth.

No doubt, she was hashing out a 'big deal' alright.

That was it!

The big deal!

I didn't think I can stand it!

That thought choked me!

My sickness flared with my spiraling thoughts.

Missed my meds, and everything went black.

Waking up disoriented, I checked the time—around one AM.

Still no sign of Elara.

I sat in silence, just waiting, no TV, no distractions.

She stumbled in at 2:15 AM, dead on her feet.

I was sitting there solo, doing nothing as she expected.

She blurted, "You're sick, why not crash early? Need help hitting the sack?"

She walked to me to brace me up.

I shot back, deadpan, "Do you think I can sleep?"

She paused, puzzled, missing the hint I dropped. "You been napping all day or what?"

I stayed silent, mulling over giving her a second shot—if only she'd fess up and swear off straying.

My silence and glare spoke volumes.

Holding her ground as if her conscience was clear, she soon seemed bewildered under the weight of my silent scrutiny.

Soon, she looked away and muttered, "If you're gonna stay up, I'll leave you to it. Been slammed at work. Gotta crash for an early meeting."

Having watched her turn away, I closed my eyes

My heart shattered in pieces for what she did.

"Let's get a divorce!"

Elara Thornfield stopped cold but didn't turn to face me. Her voice was steady, "Why this divorce talk all of a sudden? Haven't I cared enough? Or is there someone else?"

I cracked a smile, "You come home dead on your feet every night. I always thought it was the grind wearing you down."

"But today, it dawned on me: you're not just tired from work. You're drained from playing footsie under the table with him, dealing with the humping."

"Really, thanks for the hard slog!"

Elara stood frozen, her back to me, leaving me guessing her expression.

She paused, then threw over her shoulder, "Do you know all about it?"

Her nonchalance struck a nerve. I shot back, "If I hadn't caught on, you'd have kept this under wraps, huh?"

"Wouldn't that be simpler?" she retorted, which really skewed my perspective.

"Don't you see the daily grind of running a company and managing our home is already maxing me out?"

Elara finally turned around, her eyes piercing, "Shouldn't I have some outlet for all this stress?"

Her justification knocked the wind out of me.

How could she, a married woman, be so shameless like this?

I stood up and roared, "So, cheating's your way to unwind? Own up to what you are!"

"Mind your words!"

Elara fired back, pivoting to face me fully. "He and I? We're the real deal. He understands me, knows how to light up my days, brings the romance you've never managed. You've never given me half the attention he does!"

Her righteousness was astounding.

The elegant woman before me made her affair sound like a justified choice—like somehow, it was all on me.

She had every reason to cheat on me.

And she even made her cheating my fault!

Her brazenness left me at a loss for words.

Maybe splitting our assets was exactly what she was angling for.

Initially, I impulsively leaned towards divorce, but now, I'm not playing into her hands.

"If that's how it is, when do you want the divorce?"

Disdain flashed in Elara's eyes.

Her sneer cut deep, "I'm up to my eyeballs in work. Got a whole company to steer and my sweetheart to tend to. I don't have time to spare. You set the date, we'll make it official. It's for the best."

Watching her brazenness, my heart ached.

Maybe she's been repelled by me for some time.

Indeed!

She's a high-powered CEO now, living in the limelight.

And me? Just a guy swamped with issues, barely hanging on.

She's been itching to ditch me for good!

I faced her squarely, my resolve unwavering, "Divorce sounds about right, but the company stays mine."

"Huh?"

Elara scoffed, "Adrian Blake, you must be joking."

"You're just a husk of your former self."

"Think you still have what it takes to run the company?"

Her disdain and arrogance were palpable, but I kept silent.

Another word would just demean myself further!

Back to the here and now.

I watched Elara, tipsy and babbling.

My heart, once in turmoil, began to settle.

I made the final decision.

This woman doesn't merit my sympathy!

She can have the divorce, but not a penny of the assets!