I was my husband's childhood sweetheart. He never failed to pursue me for two long decades.

He loved me like I was his life and cherished me deeply.

But then, suddenly, just a month ago, he cheated on me.

Everybody knew—except me.

But I was just pretending like I hadn't caught them and still played along like a naive wife.

That was until I erased every last trace of my existence.

And then, I disappeared.

Only then did that bastard look for me like crazy.

——

"Miss Wiginton, are you absolutely sure you want to cancel your ID, passport, everything? It's gonna be a real pain in the ass if you ever need to get them back. It'll be like… you won't even exist anymore."

The clerk kept trying to talk me out of it, but I didn't even hesitate. I slid the forms over her across the counter.

"That's the point. I need to disappear so I can start over."

I knew how much Heather loved me—or at least how much he used to. He wouldn't stop until he found me, not unless I erased every single part of my existence.

Shannon Wiginton had to disappear completely. It was the only way.

After finishing all the paperwork, I went home and pulled out my phone to double-check my escape plan.

My eyes landed on the wedding photo on my lock screen, and for a second, I froze.

Back when we got married, he wanted to give me the grandest wedding imaginable, so he spent a fortune buying a private island.

He even named the island "Longing for Shannon" to declare his sincere love for me to the world.

When he made the announcement, it blew up online.

And then, of course, the story of him donating his bone marrow to save me five years ago came out too.

Our so-called "love that defied death" won over the internet.

Even our wedding livestream, which I only casually started, ended up pulling in millions.

Now, though? Looking at that photo? All I could feel was this heavy bitterness.

From the moment we met, he had chased after me relentlessly for 20 years.

Maybe because when Mom's genetic disease got worse, Dad dumped her in a hospital, and it left me with abandonment issues.

At her funeral, I promised myself I'd never hand my future over to anyone.

No expectations, no heartbreaks.

Heather was standing next to me that day. He was just a kid himself, but he tried to act all grown-up.

He patted my shoulder and said, "I'll never leave you, Shannon."

I didn't take his words like a promise. Didn't believe it for a second.

For the next 15 years, I ignored everything he did for me. Honestly, in my head, I was just waiting for him to give up on me.

But then I got really sick, the kind where you start counting your goodbyes. And that's when he signed the papers to donate his bone marrow—without even hesitating.

The surgery saved my life. The second he woke up, he dragged himself over to confess to me.

He was still half-drugged, barely able to stand. But his eyes were shining as he said, "I did it for you."

Even then, though, I didn't say yes to him.

For five years, he told me he loved me every chance he got. Thousands of times.

Then one day, I noticed the gray hairs creeping into his hairline, and my heart cracked a little. That's when I caved.

I'll never forget the look on his face when I finally said yes.

He didn't waste a second to pull out the ring he'd been carrying for who-knows-how-long onto my finger.

He even handed over all his assets, I mean, everything he had!

I refused to take a single thing and just looked at him, teary-eyed.

"I'm saying yes, but remember—I can take it back anytime. From now on, if you ever leave me—even once—I'll make sure you can't find me again."

"Heather, you only get one chance."

I said those harsh words like I meant them, but honestly, I never doubted him. Not once.

Until a month ago—when he cheated on me.

I'm not the kind of person who waits around to be abandoned—not again—so, I made the choice to leave first.

I booked my flight and printed out a divorce agreement that gave me nothing—no money, no property.

I signed it, scheduled it to be delivered in three days, and headed back home one last time.

When I walked in, Heather was already in the kitchen, making dinner.

It didn't matter that he was this billionaire CEO. He still insisted on cooking for me every single day like a loyal husband.

But even the perfect husband can be tempted to cheat on his wife.

When he heard the door open, he casually wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing. He walked over and planted a kiss on my forehead.

The scent of his body wash hit me first, warm and familiar. But then there was something else—something sharp, light, and floral. Not mine. My heart felt like it dropped a little lower, and my gaze turned cold.

"Why are you back so late, babe? Didn't the driver bring you home? It's freezing out there, so don't walk around, or you're gonna catch a cold and end up with another headache."

He crouched down, and before I could react, he was already slipping off my shoes and swapping them for slippers. His hands paused when they touched my toes—cold as ice—and instinctively, he cupped them in his palms, warming them up.

I used to feel something in sweet moments like this. Warmth. Delight. But now? Nothing.

"Just walked around the neighborhood for a bit. It's close. I wasn't cold."

When he was sure my feet were warm, he slid the slippers on and straightened up.

"Guess what I got you this month," he whispered, leaning in with a playful smile like it was some big surprise.

But I didn't even blink, just answered, "A high-heel brand."

Because, of course, he wasn't the kind of guy who just bought gifts.

He bought brands.

Thanks to his frequent so-called "surprises," I now owned stakes in at least a hundred companies.

If I'd lingered a second too long on some ad or product, contracts just showed up the next day.

Last time, it was high heels.

He chuckled, all amused, and flicked my nose like I was some kid he adored.

"Whoah, my wife's getting too smart now! Guess I gotta be more careful with surprises next time, huh?"

I wiped at my nose, trying to erase the touch of his finger.

"You've given me so many surprises—it's my turn now to prep some for you."

"Heather, it's been, what, 20 years since we met? Wow, feels like just yesterday..."

"I've got something for you, too. You'll get it in three days. Don't forget to check."

The way his eyes lit up was almost painful. He pulled me into his arms, voice bubbling over with excitement.

"Oh, my wife has really grown. You're even gonna give me gifts now, yeah? Oh, you're gonna make me cry, babe."

"We've got so many more decades ahead of us. I'm gonna document every moment I get with you, tell it to our kids, and maybe even carve it into my headstone someday."

I stayed quiet. His sweet voice buzzed in my ears, but it felt distant.

Oh, Heather, there's no time left for us. No another decade.

Later that evening, after dinner, he handed me the contract for the high-heel brand and asked me to sign it.

"Babe, I've already spoken with the brand. They've got some limited-edition designs this season, and I told them to set aside your size. Tomorrow, I'll take you to see them. They're all your style."

His eyes sparkled with anticipation, the excitement written plainly across his face.

I signed the papers without looking up, my voice flat.

"Alright. Thanks."

He was busy staring at his phone, completely missing the way my expression hardened.

"Heels are nice, but they're not exactly comfortable. Let the driver take you from now on, okay? Or if I'm home, I'll drive you myself," he said, absentmindedly scrolling.

"Heather, you don't have to do all this for me—"

He cut me off before I could finish. "Shannon, you're my whole world. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you happy."

"Besides, with how amazing you are, if I don't spoil you, what if someone else steals you away?"

As he spoke, he locked eyes with me, his gaze burning.

His hair, streaked with gray from donating bone marrow for me, caught the overhead lights like a badge of honor.

But none of it—none of these gestures, these gifts—were what I needed. And he'd never understand that.

Love wasn't there anymore. No need for someone to steal me away. I'd leave on my own.

After staring at me for two seconds, his gaze returned to his phone.

I forced a faint smile. "Still working at this hour?"

"You used to leave work at the office no matter how busy you were," I casually pointed out.

Heather's fingers froze mid-typing, and he glanced up at me, guilt flashing across his face.

"Oh, things have just been hectic lately, babe. It'll be over soon, I promise. Go get some rest now, okay?"

As I walked past him toward the bedroom, I stole a glance at his phone.

The screen showed a crying emoji—a message from another woman.

Another lie.

But I didn't say a word. I just went to the bedroom and sank into bed.

Opening my Instagram, I switched to a dummy account and searched for the page of Jennifer Herman—a barely-known actress.

Two hours ago, she'd posted a new update.

In her post, she flaunted a pair of unreleased heels from the same brand Heather just handed over to me earlier tonight.

The comment section was brutal.

People accused her of wearing fakes, saying she couldn't afford the real thing and was just trying to act rich.

She claimed she was actually the brand's yet-to-be-announced ambassador. Apparently, her boyfriend had already finalized the deal, and the contract was ready to be signed. Even the high heels in the photo were gifts from the brand.

Nobody believed her, though.

It wasn't unusual for someone like her to buy knockoffs.

But she refused to admit it and argued with the commenters.

I scrolled through the comments one by one until a newly created account caught my attention. The user was claiming to be working at the brand.

[I know her boyfriend. He's one of the execs. He made the call for her to be the brand ambassador. In fact, the shoot starts tomorrow.]

Skeptics quickly fired back.

[She's an up-and-comer at best. No way she has a boyfriend like that. Gosh, does she think she's the next Shannon Walsh?]

[Nice try, but creating a dummy account to clear your name? If there are no shoots tomorrow, oh, well, you better prepare to be humiliated. And good luck dodging a lawsuit for leaking the designs!]

But within a minute, that same account posted a photo of the signed endorsement contract.

Then, as if to silence everyone, the user dropped a statement.

[Well, see the shoots tomorrow for yourself.]

I shut off my phone and rubbed my aching temples.

When I headed to the bathroom, I overheard Heather on a call.

"What's the photoshoot team doing? If they can't get do this, fire them!"

"I told you to prioritize the shoot! Do I need to repeat myself?! Drop everything else!"

"If the materials aren't out by tomorrow, none of you are coming back to work, you understand?"

The owner of that dummy account backing Jennifer... was my husband.

At that moment, it felt like all the strength was drained from my body. I leaned against the wall, silent tears streaming down my face.

When Heather noticed me, I was still trembling, struggling to pull myself together.

He looked so afraid that his face turned pale, scooping me up like he was about to rush me to the ER.

He didn't even bother to put on his shoes.

I steadied myself with one hand against the doorframe, took a shaky breath, and shook my head. My voice cracked as I choked on my words.

"I-I'm fine. I... I just got emotional reading a sad novel. Don't worry about me. Go ahead finish your work."

He pressed his face against mine, nuzzling me softly.

"How about you stop reading sad stories, hmm? Didn't I tell you, I want to make you the happiest woman in the world?"

"All those heartbreaks in those stories aren't real. But our happiness is."

Not real?

Then why does it hurt so much just to breathe?

Maybe his reaction had somehow made him feel closer to me.

But his phone wouldn't stop vibrating, buzzing with one message after another.

And he gave me a smile, an awkward one.

"Just a little more work. I swear, I'm almost done."

I didn't respond. Barefoot, I walked back to the bedroom alone.

By midnight, I heard the door shut. Oh, he'd broken his promise again.

He left the villa in the dead of night.

I didn't need to ask where he was going.

I just threw on a black coat, pulling it tight around me as I trailed behind him like a thief.

After wandering for a while, he stopped in front of another apartment in the neighborhood.

I watched as he rang the doorbell, and it revealed a woman. Jennifer. She was wearing this ridiculously revealing outfit—a tight, black bodysuit. That bitch even pressed my husband against the doorway.

"Thanks for speaking up for me, Mr. Walsh. I owed you one, so I've got a little gift for you."

"But... you'll have to unwrap it yourself."