Tainted Vows

On our wedding anniversary, my CEO husband, Michael Grant, invited me to watch the ocean with him.

Tragically, a typhoon hit. I stood there in the raging wind and rain for over two hours, and he never showed up.

In the end, all I got was a text that he was suddenly going on a business trip and couldn’t make it.

Right after that, his intern, Nora Blake, posted a video on her social feed. It showed my usually pampered husband barefoot while helping fishermen haul crates of seafood.

Her caption read: "Our hardworking CEO loves to get his hands dirty!"

I laughed and commented: "Diligent and enduring—a true role model for us all."

The company Slack channel instantly exploded. Everyone was betting on whether I’d finally blow up this time.

Michael called me, his voice tight with fury, "Lauren West! What the heck did you mean by posting that comment? Are you trying to humiliate Nora in public?

"It was a typhoon. I helped her family move some fish. What’s the big deal? You’re such a pampered little princess who has no idea how hard life really is. Delete that comment now. I’ll take you to the coast another day."

Disgust churned in me. I replied, "Let a man who’s already rolled in the mud take me to the ocean? Forget it."

Yes. Michael was now tainted, and I didn’t want him anymore.

"Lauren West, are you crazy? I’ve explained a hundred times already. Can you stop making a scene?"

"There’s no need to explain. Let’s get divorced." I closed my eyes, my voice flat, almost detached.

"You’re jealous over nothing! I told you, Nora and I are just colleagues. A typhoon hit. What was I supposed to do? Let a young girl work in the storm by herself? The ocean isn’t going anywhere. What if she caught a cold?"

Michael Grant seemed to have forgotten that he'd invited me to the coast. Right now, I was stranded on an isolated strip of shore because of that very storm.

Cold rain lashed my face, whipped sideways by the typhoon. Anger boiled up in me, and I snapped, "I’m still stuck on Seaview Road. The water’s up to my ankles."

The moment he realized I was in danger, Michael’s voice sharpened with urgency. "Wait there. I’m coming to get you right now."

A trip that should have taken him over half an hour took him merely twenty minutes. When he climbed out of the car, disheveled and windblown, his eyes filled with worry and pain the moment they landed on me. He strode forward, scooped my drenched body into his arms, and carried me toward the car.

However, the cheap perfume clinging to his clothes cut through even the screaming winds. It stabbed at my nose, bitter and undeniable.

I opened my mouth to speak, but just then, his phone rang. It was Nora’s custom ringtone.

Without hesitation, he set me down to answer it.

"Michael, I think I’m coming down with something. I feel so dizzy," Nora’s soft voice whimpered through the line.

Michael’s brow knotted in concern. His eyes softened with a tenderness I had never once seen directed at me. He fumbled for his car keys while saying in a low and soothing voice, "Be good. Stay home and wait for me. I’ll take you to the hospital."

The arms that had held me tight suddenly let go. I crashed back into the mud.

He yanked the car door open and slid inside. With barely a glance back at me, he barked, "Get in the car. Now."

Pain shot through me as I scrambled up, my body screaming from the fall. I staggered toward the car, reaching for the handle.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut, catching the edge of my coat.

Panic clenched my chest. I pounded on the glass, shouting his name. Nevertheless, Michael, who was frantic to reach Nora, had already forgotten I even existed.

As the car lurched forward, my balance gave way. I hit the ground hard, the fabric of my coat dragging me along as the tires tore through the rain.

Mud and gravel slashed against my skin like knives. The road blurred, flashing past as my insides churned, battered and ready to spill out.

A scream ripped from my throat as agony ripped through me, stabbing deep, relentless. The car dragged me for hundreds of feet before my shredded coat gave way. I collapsed into the muck, my vision filled with the sight of my own leg. My flesh was ripped open, blood mixing with stormwater. My body finally gave out.

Face-down in the mud and paralyzed with pain, all illusions I’d clung to about Michael shattered.

A Good Samaritan eventually stopped and took me home.

When I stepped into our home, a notification lit up the screen while my phone still buzzed in my pocket.

Nora had tagged everyone in the company Slack: "Hey guys, that video earlier was just a joke. Hope no one misunderstood. Big thanks to Michael for not holding it against me and for rushing over to take me to the hospital *heart-shaped emoji*."

That wasn’t an explanation. That was a boast.

I set the phone down. With shaking hands, I disinfected the wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. The pain ripped through me, sharp and unbearable. Tears streamed down my face.

"Lauren, where did you run off to?"

Michael’s voice came from the hall, sharp with accusation. His footsteps were heavy as he stormed in, dragging the damp chill of the storm in with him.

His eyes dropped to my mangled leg. The reprimand on his lips caught, and he stalled. His brows furrowed. "What the heck did you do to yourself?"

He moved forward, reaching as if to examine the wound.

I twisted away, a bitter laugh tearing from my throat. "You really don’t know how this happened?"

Who was it that invited me to the ocean in the middle of a typhoon?

Who abandoned me for Nora?

And who dragged me half a mile across the road with his car?

Michael rubbed at his nose, a flicker of guilt flashing in his eyes. Nonetheless, his voice was all righteousness and defense as he said, "I’ve told you, we’re innocent. I only helped her because I felt sorry for her. She’s just a small-town girl trying to survive in the city. If you can’t trust me, that’s on you."

When I stayed silent, his tone hardened, turning on me as if I were the one at fault. "Do you have to pick a fight tonight? I even got you an anniversary gift."

With a flash of anger, he shoved a soggy gift box onto the table. The box knocked over the iodine bottle beside me, spilling the liquid across my freshly bandaged wound.

The sting was unbearable. The tears I’d been choking back finally broke loose.

I hurled the box at his face with all the strength I had left. "I don’t want your gifts!"

Every time he screwed up, he’d buy me something to smooth it over. I had since learned that the things he gave me were the very ones Nora had turned down.

The corner of the box split his brow. Blood welled instantly, trickling down as he clutched at the wound.

I pulled out the divorce papers and slapped them on the table.

"It’s past midnight. Our anniversary’s over, and so is our marriage."