Married to My Friend's Wife

When my best friend died, his wife, Mia Lewis, was eight months pregnant.

Mia said she didn't want her baby growing up without a father.

I owed my best friend my life. He saved me, literally pulled me from death's door. So I stepped up, marrying Mia and raising their son as my own.

Mia loved her career, so I quit mine. Traded my job for diapers and school runs. For seven whole years, I cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and handled the housework. Rain or shine, sickness or health, I was there—every single day.

Mia, though? She stayed cold, distant. Her warmth only surfaced in the bedroom—and even then, it was a flicker, never a flame. Just soft sighs and breathy murmurs, like she was playing a role she couldn't wait to finish. Afterward, she would quietly check the condom, as if she couldn't trust me.

Then came New Year's Eve.

A snap. A tear. A broken condom.

Her fury struck like a thunderclap. She locked me out on the balcony, left me standing in the freezing rain, soaked to the bone as the wind howled like a wounded beast.

Teeth chattering, I shivered as I watched the door like a dog, waiting to be let in.

Then I saw him. Our boy, Ethan Bailey. Six years old. My son, at least in name.

He came running with an umbrella in his hand.

For a second, my heart leapt. 'Maybe, just maybe…'

But he didn't even look at me. Just walked past in silence and handed the umbrella to the nanny heading out.

Right then and there, something inside me cracked.

I knew it was time to go.

Best To Rip The Band-Aid Off

When my best friend died, his wife, Mia Lewis, was eight months pregnant.

Mia said she didn't want her child growing up without a father.

I owed my best friend my life. He saved me, literally pulled me from death's door. So, I stepped up, marrying Mia and raising their son as my own.

Mia loved her career, so I quit mine. Traded my job for diapers and school runs. For seven whole years, I cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and handled the housework. Rain or shine, sickness or health, I was there—every single day.

Mia, though? She stayed cold, distant. Her warmth only surfaced in the bedroom—and even then, it was a flicker, never a flame. Just soft sighs and breathy murmurs, like she was playing a role she couldn't wait to finish. Afterward, she would quietly check the condom, as if she couldn't trust me.

Then came New Year's Eve.

A snap. A tear. A broken condom.

Her fury struck like a thunderclap. She locked me out on the balcony and left me standing in the freezing rain, soaked to the bone as the wind howled like a wounded beast.

Teeth chattering, I shivered as I watched the door like a dog, waiting to be let in.

Then, I saw him. Our boy, Ethan Bailey. Six years old. My son, at least in name.

He came running with an umbrella in his hand.

For a second, my heart leaped. 'Maybe, just maybe…'

But he didn't even look at me. Just walked past in silence and handed the umbrella to the nanny heading out.

Right then and there, something inside me cracked.

I knew it was time to go.

…

It was New Year's Day.

Fever blazed through me like wildfire. My head throbbed and my limbs were heavy as lead, but I still managed to hand Mia the divorce papers.

Mia frowned, clearly annoyed. "Is this about last night? Ben, if you hadn't crossed the line, I wouldn't have punished you. Maybe take a good look in the mirror before blaming me."

I bit down the urge to defend myself. My voice came out hoarse, dry as sandpaper. "Just sign it."

She narrowed her eyes. "What about our son?"

"He was never mine by blood. I'm not fighting for custody. And don't worry about splitting the property. I'm leaving my share for his care. Call it child support, if you want."

That threw her off. No surprise—I had always treated the kid like he was the center of my world.

Her expression hardened as she tried to reclaim control. "I'm warning you, Ben. Don't push this too far. Walk now, and there's no coming back."

She still thought I was bluffing. Thought I'd come crawling back eventually, tail tucked between my legs.

Little did she know, I had made up my mind the moment I saw our son hand that umbrella to the nanny.

I didn't bother explaining. I was done begging for scraps.

I took the signed papers and headed back to the bedroom to pack.

When she saw the suitcase open on the bed, she said, "You don't have to move out so fast. The paperwork will take time."

I gave her back a taste of her own medicine, echoing words she had once thrown at me during an argument. "No thanks. Best to rip the Band-Aid off."

She didn't say another word after that.

…

I had a lot of stuff, but I only took what I needed. Essentials. Memories could rot in that house for all I cared.

As I dragged my suitcase through the living room, Ethan was sitting on the couch, flipping through a science magazine.

The boy was young, but he already had the discipline of a soldier. Just like his mother. And like her, he looked right through me most days.

He closed the magazine, stood, and walked over with that same cold stare.

"You're really divorcing Mom?" he asked, face flat as a pancake.

I nodded.

There was a flicker in his eyes. A spark of happiness he didn't bother to hide.

Then came the kicker. In that smug tone of his, he said, "I'll let you visit me. Once a month. Any more and Uncle Luke might get upset."

That was Luke Forrest, Mia's first crush.

If his family—the Forrests—hadn't run into trouble and moved abroad back then, she probably would have married him instead of my best friend.

Now Luke was back in town, and the two of them had picked up right where they left off. She even started taking Ethan along to meet him.

Luke raced cars professionally. Ethan thought he was the coolest man alive.

What the boy didn't know was that I used to hold back-to-back national racing championship titles, but it didn't matter. He despised me. Wouldn't even let me teach him to drive a go-kart.

There was a time that gutted me—watching him worship someone else while barely glancing in my direction. But not anymore.

After last night, everything became clear—One couldn't teach the ungrateful to be grateful.

And so, I didn't even look at him. Just walked past, opened the front door, and stepped out.

I was almost at the gate when Mia came after me.

"What's the hurry? You haven't even found a place yet."

I stayed quiet as I pushed the gate open.

"Where are you planning to go? I'll have the driver take you."

"No need."

Last night's rain had soaked me to the bone. Now I was burning up, dizzy, and barely holding it together. My head pounded like a drumline was beating inside.

Still, I kept going. Dragged myself forward on sheer will.

I made it a few steps past the gate before the world tilted.

Everything went black, and I hit the ground like a sack of bricks.