Getting Justice, I Cut Off His Lies and Leave Him

"Don't worry, the past is behind us. Didn't you say it was all just a misunderstanding? I'm not as immature as you think."

Marco let out a visible sigh of relief and personally walked me to the car.

"You two talk. I'll head home and wait for you."

On the way, my colleagues from the department gave me these looks—full of sympathy, like they all knew something I didn’t.

I ignored them. Once in the car, I pulled out my phone and scheduled an abortion for two days later.

Back home, I gathered everything Marco had given me over the past five years and burned it all. Every last bit of it.

The final flicker of flame had just died when I heard the delivery guy outside. Marco was listed as the buyer—but the package was addressed to Amina.

I signed for it.

When I opened the box, it was packed with premium baby products from all the big brands.

Almost immediately, Marco sent a message: [Polly, I ordered some office supplies but accidentally had them shipped home. Don’t open it—I’ll come by and take it to the station.]

I replied with an emoji. Then I resealed the box.

I had already made up my mind to leave. His lies weren’t even worth unraveling anymore.

That night, Marco claimed he was working late on a case and wouldn’t be coming home. Amina, on the other hand, posted something for the first time in ages. She was checked in at a luxury hotel downtown.

In the candid photo, the man’s shoulder insignia stood out his police rank. His wedding ring was gone, leaving behind a pale, sun-weathered mark on his finger.

In the reflection of a wine glass, the woman was beaming like spring, while the man looked at her with unmistakable tenderness.

As she’d hoped, I gave the post a like. Then, I started packing my things.

It wasn’t until the following afternoon that Marco finally messaged me. He told me to head over to the Fishers’ family estate.

The moment I stepped through the door, carrying nothing, his parents’ expressions turned cold.

“Marc’s been working himself to the bone at the station,” his mother snapped. “And you can’t even be bothered to bring a gift? Walk in empty-handed and already pulling an attitude—what kind of wife are you?”

Relatives sitting nearby all turned to stare—judgment in their eyes.

“You’ve been married five years and still think you’re some pampered Vogel heiress? Wake up. The Vogels went bankrupt five years ago! If Marc hadn’t emptied his savings to cover your family’s debts, God knows where you’d be—probably selling yourself on some street corner!”

“Like it or not, we’re your in-laws. Your parents are gone and we’re the only family you’ve got now. You don’t even know how to show respect? Anyone hearing this would think Marc begged you to marry him!”

Just as the words hung in the air, Amina walked through the door—arms full of expensive health supplements.

The Fishers’ faces lit up the moment they saw her, beaming as they rushed to greet her.

"Amy, you're here! The flight must've worn you out. Go upstairs and get some rest—we’ll have your sister-in-law cook something nice. It’s not often you come home."

"You always bring so much stuff—oh, you shouldn’t have! Your mom and I are getting old, we don’t need all these things. You and your husband should save your money for yourselves."

"Still, it shows how thoughtful you are, Amy. Not like some people, who walk in like they’re here to collect a debt. Her parents have been gone five years and she still won’t let it go—such a downer every time!"

Despite the protests, Mrs. Fisher’s hands didn’t stop as she eagerly accepted the gifts.

Amina giggled sweetly and looped her arm through her mother’s.

"Mom, don’t say that. The Vogels' case has been cold for five years—no killer, no justice. It’s understandable she’s still upset. She's hurting, let’s not pour salt on her wounds. We're family, after all—we share the same name, remember?"

“Oh! And I heard she’s pregnant too. Double blessings for the family today!”

"Don’t make her cook, Mom—Marco will get mad if he finds out you had her in the kitchen."

At the mention of Marco, Mrs. Fisher’s cheerful smile faltered for just a second.

"Got himself a wife and forgot his mother—that’s my son, alright!"