I Watched as My Husband Marry His First Love

I gasped for breath, clutching my stinging cheek as tears poured down. My face went numb.

“That jade is a protective charm my parents prayed for—the last thing they left me!”

Damian pushed me aside impatiently. With a rough yank, the red string tightened around my neck before snapping with a sharp crack.

The smooth jade slipped from my neck and rolled to a stop at Ethan’s feet.

“Alright, enough, both of you,” Ethan muttered, crouching down to pick up the jade. He weighed it casually in his palm, and clicked his tongue.

“Mom, you're being dramatic again. Dad already said it’s just for Aunt Elly to borrow for a few days. She’s not going to keep it.”

And with that, he turned and handed the jade to Eleanor.

At that moment, the bedroom door swung open with a loud bang.

My daughter-in-law appeared at the doorway, wrapped in her robe, eyes filled with contempt.

“Seriously? Making this much noise in the middle of the night? Can’t you people ever shut up? You’re old and useless, always stirring up trouble. Why don’t you just die outside somewhere?”

Her words sliced into me like a knife.

“Look at you, gasping like a dying dog. Who are you trying to impress with this act? Why don’t you just drop dead already?”

I looked up at her, my lips trembling, unable to speak.

She sneered, cast a disgusted glance my way, yawned, and muttered, “Filthy thing.”

Eleanor clutched her chest weakly and murmured, “I’m fine... It’s my fault. Please don’t argue over me. It’s alright—I don’t need the jade...”

As she spoke, she swayed delicately as if she might faint at any second.

My chest burned.

“Damian, if you don’t return that jade to me, I’ll divorce you!”

My voice tore from my throat like a scream, raw and sharp.

Even as I said it, I was gambling—gambling on the forty years we’d spent together, hoping there was still some shred of attachment left.

I was testing our marriage, desperate to believe it hadn’t all been a lie.

But reality struck like a slap across the face.

“Fine, divorce it is!”

Damian roared, like he’d been waiting for an excuse.

“You think I can’t live without you? It’s you who’s been clinging to me all these years! You really thought you mattered in this house?!”

He flung my arm away and hissed coldly. “And let me tell you something—we were never legally married! There’s no official record of us. You idiot! If you want to leave, then get out! Get lost and stay gone!”

My heart pounded violently, each beat like an explosion in my chest.

I turned to look at my son—my last hope, my last plea.

But the moment our eyes met, he looked away—faster than anyone else.

“M-Mom...” Ethan stammered. “Dad didn’t mean it. You shouldn’t bring up divorce all the time. We’re not young anymore—how embarrassing would that be if people heard?”

He forced a smile, like coaxing a child throwing a tantrum.

But the panic in his eyes, the way he avoided my gaze—I understood everything in that instant.

He knew.

He had known all along.

Yet he still joined Damian in lying to me, year after year.

The son I raised with everything I had—chose to deceive me too.

Damian sneered. “Ethan, don’t waste your breath. She’s useless now.”

He looked at me with undisguised contempt. “Audrey, you think I ever wanted you? If Elly hadn’t been afraid of having kids, I wouldn’t have looked at someone like you twice! Your only worth was cooking and popping out a child. Other than that, you’re nothing.”

“Now that Elly is back, you should get lost.”

I felt empty, like something had been ripped out of me. My eyes were dry, like sandpaper scraping against them. I couldn’t even feel the pain anymore.

So that was the truth.

All those years ago, Damian had manipulated and lied to me just because he was hoping that the woman he truly loved—Eleanor, the one who cared only about art and refused to have children—might someday come back to him.

And she had.

Decades later, he had a healthy heir, a grandson on the way, and his precious first love was now old and ill, needing someone to lean on.

In his eyes, I, the woman who gave him a child and took care of his home, was just a tool—now expired and ready to be thrown away.

I looked around the house one last time.

The hand-sewn tablecloth. The family photos I took myself. The rugs I laid down. The curtains I washed. The soups I simmered. The medicine I bought...

Everything was still there.

“Fine,” I said quietly. “I’ll go.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry.

I walked toward the door.

“Mom...” Ethan called hesitantly.

Damian scoffed from the sofa. “Let her go. Once she realizes no one cares, she’ll come crawling back like a stray dog. Then we’ll see if I even feel like opening the door for her.”

I didn’t look back. I didn’t hesitate.

The wind outside was bitter cold, stinging my eyes shut—but I walked fast, unwilling to stay another second in that place.

At the street corner, I hailed a cab.

The driver asked, “Where to?”

“The airport.” I sighed.

I booked the soonest flight to the island I had long dreamed of visiting my entire life.

At the same time, I called my real estate agent.

“Hello. Please help me sell the apartment I own downtown. The sooner the better.”

That downtown apartment was my inheritance from my aunt.

She had warned me never to add Damian or Ethan’s names to the deed—not until I was dead.

She told me that if I ever found myself in a desperate situation, I should sell it and keep the money in my own hands. That would be the safest.

Out of respect for her, I never added their names—naively thinking that family didn’t need such distinctions.

Over the years, they complained about it endlessly, and I felt guilty—so guilty that I treated them even better.

But now, I understood my aunt’s warning.

And I realized how ridiculous I’d been.

Since my marriage was never real, there’s no need to divide assets.

That house belongs entirely to me.

If they wouldn't acknowledge me as their family—then they could get the hell out of my house!