He Married Her, Then Begged for Me Back

Right after Father's Day dinner at my parents' place, Boris Stephens and I were driving home. I was scrolling through my phone in the passenger seat when a post from a stranger's account stopped me cold.

【Got my marriage license with the man I love, but he still has a girlfriend of seven years. How do I break it to her?】

In the photo, Boris and Tania stood at the counter in City Hall, grinning like they'd never been happier.

My stomach dropped. I held the phone out to him.

Boris rubbed his brow, exhaling hard. “Kate, I was actually going to tell you. I got a marriage license. Tania's a good girl—I can't do that to her.”

“She's a good girl? Then what am I, after seven years with you?”

He sighed. “You're still my girlfriend. That's not changing—not ever. You're the person closest to me in the world.”

“We keep things the way they are. What's wrong with that?”

……

A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. The whole world tilted.

Just tonight, my parents, who had never approved of Boris, had finally given us their blessing.

I'd been planning to tell him the good news the moment we got home.

My dad had even circled next week on the calendar—picked the perfect day for us to go to City Hall.

But before I could say a word, I'd already learned that Boris was married.

My eyes burned. I couldn't blink fast enough to keep them clear. Boris reached over the way he always did, gentle, familiar, patting the top of my head.

“Kate, I actually overheard your parents tonight, agreeing to the wedding. They want their daughter to be happy. I get it.”

“But a marriage license is just a piece of paper. Real love is what survives the test of time.”

“You want a wedding? I'll give you one. You want kids? I'll have them with you. But the license can only go to Tania.”

He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he was deciding what to pick up for dinner.

If his tone hadn't been so sure, I would've thought I'd misheard.

By the time we got back to the apartment I was shaking with rage, tears streaming down my face, and I went straight to the bedroom and started yanking his things off the shelves. I wanted him out.

But the moment I opened the closet, I froze.

A full row of new clothes hung inside. None of them mine.

Bunny-print pajamas. A slinky camisole dress. A white babydoll dress with a Peter Pan collar.

Outfits for every season, summer through winter.

I turned around. The bedding had been swapped out too, everything pink now.

On the nightstand sat a red velvet box, already open. Inside, a two-carat diamond ring glared under the light.

On my own hand was the silver ring Boris had given me three years ago, bought from a street vendor. Dull. Tarnished.

He came running in, out of breath, already explaining：

“Kate, don't get the wrong idea. I had Tania bring her stuff over today. Her lease is up and she has nowhere to go. She's staying with us for now, just until she finds a new place.”

Nausea rolled through me.

“No. Absolutely not. Neither you nor your mistress is setting foot in here.”

I'd put $15,000 down on this apartment. I was the one making the monthly payments. But when we'd signed the papers, it went under Boris's name alone.

He'd told me his parents lived out in the country, that their lifelong dream was for their son to bring honor to the family by owning a home in the city.

He'd told me we'd been together long enough that there was no point keeping score. We were getting married anyway.

That night, he took me to see a fireworks show. The sky lit up in a thousand colors.

Somehow, I'd agreed.

And now here he was, arms wrapped around me, shameless as ever.

“Kate, quit being unreasonable. The deed's in my name. Since when does the owner get kicked out of his own house?”

The doorbell rang.