He Begged Me to Stay After I Stopped Loving Him

Because the one that got away had declared, "I won't be a homewrecker!"

My husband, who had never once spent the night at home, finally came back.

Morton Harding did the unthinkable: he celebrated my birthday with me. He picked me up from work every day. He even stayed up all night nursing me through a fever.

And for our third wedding anniversary, he actually cooked me an entire dinner himself.

When he set the anniversary gift in front of me, the heart that had loved him for seven years finally stopped beating.

I slid the divorce papers I'd prepared long ago across the table.

"Morton, let's end this."

……

The careless smile on Morton Harding's face crumbled the moment he saw the papers.

"Viola Payne, have I been too good to you lately? Is that what's making you push your luck?"

I shook my head. My voice came out so calm it sounded foreign even to me.

"I'm just tired. I want to set you free to be with Zara."

That name landed like a needle straight through his chest.

His expression shifted, unreadable. I couldn't tell if it was relief or anger.

"Fine. Don't come crawling back."

He threw down the words like a gauntlet, grabbed his jacket off the couch, and walked out without looking back.

I watched him go. Not a single ache. Not a trace of longing.

I cleared the untouched dishes from the table as if nothing had happened, slow and methodical.

I hadn't eaten all day. I was starving.

But every dish on the table contained seafood. I was allergic. I couldn't touch any of it.

My gaze fell on the pair of earrings Morton had tossed carelessly onto the table. I let out a bitter laugh.

His so-called anniversary gift was nothing but a freebie thrown in when he'd bought Zara Fox a necklace.

But none of this was the real reason. It was simply the last straw.

I had spent seven years chasing Morton Harding like a lovesick fool.

In college, when I found out his family had nothing, I funded him anonymously.

Then Zara Fox impersonated me and started dating him in my place.

Morton believed her first, and no matter how I tried to explain, he was convinced I was lying.

After graduation, Morton's mother was in a car accident.

Zara dumped him and left the country.

I was the one who paid for the surgery. Every last dollar.

Out of gratitude, Morton married me.

I thought that living together as husband and wife would make him accept me. Maybe even love me.

To support his career, I bankrolled his company, pulled strings, opened every door I could.

No matter how much I gave, all I ever got in return was indifference.

At a college reunion before the new year, Zara showed up.

Morton's eyes went red the moment he saw her.

He blocked drinks for Zara. He served food onto Zara's plate. He drove Zara home.

As if the wife sitting right beside him didn't exist.

A knock at the door dragged me out of my thoughts.

I opened it to find Zara Fox standing there, her face the picture of wounded innocence.

"Viola, you've got it all wrong about Morton. There's really nothing between us."

She reached for my hand. I stepped back.

She lost her balance and crumpled to the floor with all the subtlety of a soap opera actress.

Morton, who had followed her up, saw the whole thing.

Without a word, he charged at me and shoved me hard.

My arm slammed into the sharp corner of the entryway cabinet, tearing a long gash down my skin.

Morton didn't spare me a single glance. He bent down, scooped Zara into his arms, and carried her out.

Zara rested her head against his shoulder and blinked at me over it, slow and deliberate. Taunting.

I was dabbing antiseptic on the wound when Morton came back.

His eyes caught the streak of blood on my arm. A flicker of guilt crossed his face, and his voice softened by a fraction.

"Sorry. I lost my temper. Let me help you with that."

"No need," I said flatly. "I can handle it myself."

The cotton swab in Morton's hand froze in midair. His expression darkened.

"Then again, you started it, didn't you? Zara came here to smooth things over so we wouldn't fight, and this is how you treat her? How petty can you be?"