After Ten Years of Betrayal

The doctor had just stitched me up and said I was too weak to be discharged, but when he was on leave, I sneaked back home.

In the drawer, wrapped carefully, was our wedding ring.

After ten years of marriage, the only thing Dennis Ford and I truly owned together was that ring.

When Dennis proposed, his face was as cold as ice. I held the ring gingerly in my hands, trying to ignore the whispers from nearby onlookers, “Is he proposing? He looks like he's owed half a million dollars, and the bride even has to put on the ring herself.”

It was the only thing Dennis had ever given me. I wore it every day as if it were a treasure, even in the shower, refusing to take it off. But Dennis disliked seeing the ring on me. He would take it off my finger every night before joining me in bed. By the next morning, I would find it on the floor and slip it back on. Eventually, he stopped bothering.

The day he forced me to apologize to Lewis Hudson, he once again removed the ring himself.

I stared at the ring, lost in thought. This time, I wouldn't put it back on. I left it by Dennis's bedside, only to hear his voice behind me.

“Well! The precious thing you usually treasure so much, why aren’t you wearing it today?” At this hour, he’s usually lost in some other woman’s embrace. Today was unusual.

He was at the mirror, dabbing antiseptic on the scratch marks on his neck. I thought of our wedding day when I ran into a hotel in my Victorian-style dress to catch him cheating. I went wild, slapping the other woman's face. Dennis was just as calm then, methodically tending to his scratches with a cotton swab, speaking with the same nonchalance.

“Next time, why not come earlier? A threesome would be more fun, wouldn’t it?”

For these ten years, no matter how hysterical I became, his attitude toward me was always icy. Now my heart was completely cold, indifferent to everything about him.

I ignored him and took all of my clothes from the closet, placing them into a suitcase. Dennis panicked, grabbing my wrist.

“It’s so late, where are you going?” A flash of unease crossed his face.

With that tug, my wound began to bleed again.

“Just grabbing a change of clothes for the hospital.”

Only then did Dennis relax. He fetched the first aid kit from the bedroom and lifted my shirt, but I pulled away.

“Don’t touch me with your filthy hands!”

Dennis's expression turned dark, and he grasped my hair, kissing me forcefully...

I slapped him hard.

“Estella, you love me, don’t you? You know I’ve never been one for playing hard to get!”

“Stop pretending!”

He came closer once more, and I grabbed a pair of scissors, pressing them to my throat, “Dennis, if you take another step, I’ll end it here and now!”

He panicked, slamming his fist against the door. “Estella, how far are you willing to take this?”

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

I wiped away my tears and continued packing my belongings.

Outside, it was just a phone call, and Priscilla Lane obediently came over. They engaged in their usual activities, the sounds making my skin crawl. This time, they were in the living room. Dennis was doing it on purpose, trying to punish me with this. But I no longer cared about him at all.

Dragging my suitcase through the living room, the strange scent made me feel physically sick.

Dennis immediately called out to me, “If you know you were wrong, come over. Otherwise…”