I Ended Our Secret Marriage, And He Returned Begging

Back then, Freddie would make me hangover soup and cereal and when I was drunk and out of it, he would hold me and soothe me to sleep.

Even when he didn’t have much money, he still remembered every anniversary and bought me pricey gifts.

Aside from not giving me an official title, Freddie gave me almost everything.

This was one of the reasons why I valued this relationship so much.

I always believed that, in some way, he cared about me.

Later, the company slowly gained attention and Freddie secured his role with his strong skills.

His company also started to hire more people.

Imogen joined around that time; I was the one who hired her.

Freddie said, “I don’t want you going out in front of others. You can find someone to drink for you.”

From then on, I slowly stayed behind the scenes.

Imogen, young and bold, often drank until she couldn’t stand at business dinners.

I began teaching her how to talk people into drinking, how to build up her tolerance and how to close deals at the table.

She had talent and learned fast. Because she was cheerful and good-looking, she got several good-paying contracts.

Freddie cared for her openly, making no effort to cover it up.

Besides her normal bonuses, Freddie started giving her extra gifts.

Costly clothes, bags and jewelry poured into Imogen’s hands like running water.

They began showing up together often at the company, acting close as if no one else existed.

I caused trouble more than once, but each time it ended with Freddie walking off in anger.

“Bella, don’t use dirty thoughts to judge people.”

“Bella, if you keep acting out, there’s no reason for us to stay together.”

That relationship, with me as the one hurt, almost broke me.

Staring at the clear glass of white wine in front of me, I lifted my eyes toward Imogen.

“Didn’t I show you before? Don’t push a woman to drink.” When I finished speaking, I set my utensils down and poured my wine into Freddie’s glass.

“Freddie, if you can’t handle your woman, don’t bring her out and make things awkward.” Freddie’s expression changed at once.

He pulled Imogen back. “Stop causing trouble.”

“Sit down and eat. Even if you don’t want to eat, the baby in your stomach will.”

What he said made the food on the table suddenly taste like nothing.

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and stood. “Sorry, I’m going to the restroom.”

Once I stepped outside, the cold wind and light rain went into my coat, making it wet and cold.

I couldn’t stop shaking and the sickness eased a little.

A child. They actually had a child.

Freddie, who always said he didn’t like kids, had a child with another woman.

In ten years, Freddie and I had five pregnancies, but every time, we ended them.

Freddie had a bad habit: he refused to use condoms.

Each time, I took birth control pills and if I got pregnant, I had an abortion.

His reasons for not wanting kids were simple. He said he was focused on his career and he didn’t like children.

Every time I had an abortion, Freddie would buy me all kinds of things to make me feel better.

He often said we were still young and that all these years had been too packed for us to enjoy being a couple.

Perhaps since I loved him so much, whatever he said always moved me.

From drinking and taking birth control pills for so long, my body was already badly hurt.

During my fifth pregnancy, the doctor said that if I lost that one, I might never have children again.

On our third wedding anniversary, I prepared a table full of dishes, hoping to talk to Freddie.

I wanted to keep the baby, but I didn’t see him.

Instead, I walked in and saw him and Imogen wrapped together on the office sofa.