Lowest moments?

The so-called “darkest time of his life” was three years ago—the day his car malfunctioned mid-race, the brakes failing as he hurtled toward the barriers, inches from death.

I was the one who ran onto the track, throwing caution to the wind to drag him from the burning wreckage.

The flames had licked at my skin, searing my arms and back, leaving me with scars he never even acknowledged.

When he woke up in the hospital, he recovered quickly, as if the accident had been nothing more than a bad dream. He forgot many things—but not Bethany. Never her.

Meanwhile, I spent three months in a hospital bed, enduring the agony of skin grafts, surgeries and relentless pain.

And as I healed, Rio grew colder.

Support? Devotion? Never leaving his side? How could he stand there and say those words with a straight face?

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I stared at him, desperate to see a flicker of guilt, a trace of regret, any sign that he once loved me.

But his eyes held none of that. Only Bethany. Only the cameras. Only the glory.

As the press conference ended, Rio and Bethany made their way toward the parking lot. My legs moved before my mind could stop them and I ran after him, my voice breaking as I called out:

“Rio, stop! We need to talk. You owe me an explanation!”

But he didn’t even glance back.

Instead, he strode up to a sleek, cherry-red sports car, holding the door open like a perfect gentleman as Bethany slid inside, shooting me a smug look before she adjusted her sunglasses.

Rio smirked, got in and slammed the door shut. The engine roared to life and without hesitation, he sped off, leaving me standing there like a fool.

I stumbled back, my vision blurring. My body trembled from the cold—or maybe from the weight of betrayal crushing down on me.

A passing event staff member hurried over, helping me up and asking if I was okay. I forced a weak nod, murmuring a quick thank you before they let me stand on my own.

My heart ached, sharp and relentless, like a thousand tiny needles piercing through it.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers shaking as I dialed Rio’s number. I had to ask him why—why he was doing this to me.

It rang once. Twice.

Then—

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable.”

He had shut me out. Completely.

Like a ghost, I drifted back home. The mansion that once felt warm now stood eerily silent. The massive wedding portrait hanging on the wall mocked me, frozen in time—a reminder of my foolishness.

Six years. Over two thousand days and nights. I had given him everything—my love, my devotion, my dreams. I had sacrificed my career, my ambitions, my very identity for a marriage that never truly existed.

He had promised me a grand wedding. The kind every woman dreamed of. Six years later and that promise had become nothing more than an illusion—dangling just out of reach, shattering time and time again.

“Let’s keep our marriage a secret. Going public would hurt my career right now.”

“Hazel, I swear, once I win the championship, I’ll make our relationship official.”

“Just be patient, okay? Beth is my business partner now—I have to consider her feelings.”

Lie after lie, each one slithering around me like a venomous snake, squeezing the life out of me.

I had reduced myself to nothing more than a shadow, a servant in my own home—walking on eggshells around the man who was supposed to be my husband, terrified of displeasing him.

I didn’t even dare to bring up the words "go public" because every time I did, he would explode—calling me ungrateful, childish, an embarrassment to him.

Again and again, I told myself that Rio loved me. That he was just busy, just stressed, just waiting for the right time. That once he won the championship, everything would change.

Like a drowning woman, I clung to that fragile thread of hope, desperately fighting to stay afloat.

I thought that if I just held on a little longer, if I just gave him everything, he would finally see my worth. That he would cherish me.

But today, I finally understood. I was wrong.

So terribly, laughably wrong.

“Ahhh!”

A primal scream tore from my throat as I started hurling things across the room. Crystal ornaments, limited-edition figurines, designer handbags—nothing was spared from my wrath. When exhaustion finally stole the strength from my limbs, I collapsed in the corner, curled up like a wounded beast, licking my wounds with no solace in sight.

The special notification on my phone blinked.

It was Rio.

“Not coming home tonight. Beth isn’t feeling well. Staying with her.”

Beth. Bethany. Again and again. Her name was a thorn lodged deep in my heart, twisting cruelly with every breath I took.

For six years, I lived like a ghost in the shadows of our marriage—hidden, silenced, erased. While I was forced to be invisible, he paraded Bethany like a trophy, showering her with resources and attention, making sure the whole world knew just how much he cherished her.

Every year, on his birthday, on our anniversary, even on my own birthday, he was never there.

His excuses varied, but the result was always the same. The one left behind was always me. The one by his side was always Bethany.

Last year, he had promised to spend my birthday with me. But at the last moment, Bethany twisted her ankle and he left without a second thought, not sparing me so much as a glance.

I sat alone, staring at my cold birthday cake, tears blurring the candle flames. The next day, the tabloids were ablaze with pictures of Rio celebrating Bethany’s birthday. They stood close, their smiles bright, the very picture of intimacy.

And me? I was nothing but a joke. A court jester foolishly waiting for a king who never spared her a second look.

I had once confronted him, demanded to know why he always chose Bethany over me.

His answer had been dismissive, as if my pain was an inconvenience.

“Bethany is my business partner. I have to take care of her. You, on the other hand, are my wife. You should understand me. Support me.”

I should understand him?

I suddenly felt exhausted—bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion.

Six years. Six years of lies, of betrayal, of bending over backward for a love that had never been real.

With trembling hands, I typed out a message.

[Let’s get a divorce.]

The moment I pressed send, my heart stilled. For the first time in six years, I felt peace. Minutes passed. No reply. I let out a bitter laugh.

Of course. Right now, he was busy tending to his "business partner." Why would he waste time on his invisible wife?

***

In the VIP room of an exclusive nightclub, deafening music pulsed through the air, champagne bubbling over crystal glasses as dazzling lights cast an intoxicating glow over the revelry.

Rio lounged back, a smug grin on his face, an arm draped possessively around Bethany’s slender waist as she giggled at something he whispered in her ear.

“Rio, you’re amazing! Another championship title under your belt!” Bethany gushed, clinking her glass against his.

Rio laughed, basking in the adoration of his team and the sycophants surrounding him.

“Of course! Who do you think I am?”

His teammate Glen elbowed him playfully, waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, man, where’s your wife? Shouldn’t she be here celebrating with you? Six years of hiding her away—isn’t it time to let her breathe?”

A round of jeers and whistles erupted from the crowd.

“Yeah, dump the old ball and chain already! Marry our lovely Bethany instead! We’ll even chip in for the wedding!”

“Hahaha, Rio, don’t tell me you’re bored with her and looking for fresh meat?”

Drunk on victory and liquor, Rio tightened his grip on Bethany, his laughter loud and unrestrained. “She’s been clinging to me for six years like a desperate mutt, wagging her tail for a scrap of attention. It’s pathetic.”

Bethany pouted playfully, mischief glinting in her eyes. “If she finds out you're spending the night with me, what will you do? Think she’ll throw a fit?”

Rio scoffed, his expression darkening with contempt. “She wouldn’t dare. Marrying me is the best thing that ever happened to her. If she tries to cause trouble, I’ll make sure she’s blacklisted from the entertainment industry.”

Bethany giggled, trailing her fingers down his chest. “I adore you,” she purred before pressing her lips to his in a slow, sultry kiss.

The noise of the private lounge drowned out the faint vibration of Rio’s phone.

He didn’t notice it. He didn’t care.

Later that night, Bethany carefully selected a photo. In it, she nestled against Rio’s side like a delicate bird, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist. In his other hand, he held up a glass of champagne, his face alight with smug victory.

The rest of his team surrounded them, grinning and cheering, celebrating his latest championship win. The energy of the moment was electric.

The caption read: “Celebrating another winning of R. So proud of you!”

The moment she posted it, the internet erupted.

“Rio and Bethany look so perfect together. When’s the official announcement?”

“OMG! The way he looks at her—I’m swooning!”

“I knew it! There’s no way these two weren’t secretly together!”

Bethany smirked at the flood of comments, replying with a coy emoji before tagging Rio’s account. Within seconds, his like appeared.

By morning, every major gossip site had splashed their faces across their front pages.

[Racing champion Rio Beasley caught in late-night rendezvous with rising star Bethany—romance confirmed?]

[Speculation ends: Beasley and Arterton’s intimate celebration ignites dating rumors!]

The comment sections buzzed with excitement, some offering congratulations, others spewing outrage and many simply there for the drama.

***

The harsh morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, piercing through Rio’s pounding hangover. Groaning, he massaged his temples, but the warmth of the woman beside him made up for his discomfort.

Leaning over, he pressed a lazy kiss to Bethany’s forehead before grabbing his phone to check the time.

A single message from me popped up on the screen: [Let’s get divorce.]

He barely spared it a glance, assuming it was another one of my tantrums. Six years together and I had pulled every trick in the book to keep his attention—why would this time be any different?

Bethany stirred, stretching her toned arms before wrapping them around his neck. “Who sends message this early? They’re ruining my beauty sleep.”

Rio’s fingers lazily traced circles on her bare back. “Just insignificant block with too much time on their hands.”

By noon, he returned to the villa, expecting to find me sulking like always. Instead, I was neatly folding my clothes, placing them carefully into a suitcase.

He stopped cold. The haze of alcohol finally lifted, replaced by something sharper—confusion and a faint irritation.

“What are you doing?” I didn’t look up. My voice was steady, emotionless. “I’ve drafted the divorce papers. If you have no objections, sign them.”

My words hit him like a detonated landmine.

In an instant, he closed the distance between us, ripping the clothes from my hands and throwing them to the floor.

“Divorce?” His voice was low, dangerous. “What kind of stunt are you pulling now? Don’t play games with me.”