My Husband’s Hidden Wife

“I’m ready. Make the arrangements.”

A sharp intake of breath echoed from the other end of the line. “Adriana!” My mother’s voice trembled. “What… what are you saying? Didn’t you refuse that proposal because you claimed you were so devoted to Joshua? You told me he was your forever! How could things turn out like this? Are you… divorcing him?”

I closed my eyes, gripping the phone tightly to steady my trembling voice.

“No, Mom,” I murmured. “We were never married in the first place.”

There was a stunned silence, broken only by her shaky inhale.

“Wait… what?” she whispered, barely audible.

I swallowed hard, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “He tricked me. Every single thing was a lie. I believed I was his wife. I believed in our forever. But it was all an illusion, Mom. Just a carefully planned deception. I can’t stay here any longer. I have to leave. I need to forget everything, start over… build a new life for myself.”

The pause on her end felt endless, as though she were sifting through my confession piece by piece.

Finally, her voice returned, calm but resolute. “Alright. Don’t worry, darling. I’ll handle everything. Just focus on keeping steady. Give me a week. Seven days. By then, everything will be arranged. New records, a new address, a fresh start. No trace of what you’re leaving behind. When the week is done, you’ll be free.”

A strange mix of grief and relief curled in my chest. One week. Only seven more days to pretend I was someone else. I swallowed and nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “That’s fine,” I whispered.

That evening, my phone buzzed with a message from Joshua.

Babe, don’t forget Parker’s birthday tonight. I told them we’d come together. I’ll be waiting. Love you.

I stared at it for a long moment, feeling a hollow twist in my chest. Then I typed a brief response:

Sorry, still finishing some designs. I’ll come later.

Almost instantly, his reply popped up: No worries. Just let me know when you’re on your way. I’ll be there.

I drew a steadying breath, willing myself to focus. One week. Just one more week, Adriana. You can survive this.

I dressed plainly, applied subtle makeup, and drove to the venue. The air was unnervingly cold, almost as if it sensed the turmoil inside me.

As I neared the garden entrance, laughter drifted toward me. Male voices—familiar, easy, cruel in their normalcy. I paused.

“…Wait, you actually brought two girls to my party?” one of Joshua’s friends joked. “What’s the strategy here?”

Joshua’s smooth, confident voice followed, light but laced with arrogance. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I did love Adriana, truly. But she left me to chase her dreams. I was alone. Vanessa was there. And… we… got married.”

My stomach lurched.

He continued, casually recounting the betrayal. “When Adriana returned, everyone assumed we’d be the golden couple again. So I faked it. I didn’t divorce Vanessa. Why would I? Adriana’s family has wealth. She’s… useful.”

The others laughed, oblivious.

“One man, two wives,” one friend joked. “You’re living the dream, Jo.”

“Exactly,” Joshua replied with a smirk. “I enjoyed it. Why settle for one when you can have both? Adriana might need to be disposed of soon, though—once I secure her inheritance.”

I hadn’t realized I was gripping my clutch until my nails cut into my palm. I straightened my spine, wiped a single defiant tear away, and walked into the main hall.

Warm lights, laughter, clinking glasses… and there she was. Vanessa, poised, elegant, champagne in hand, as if she had always belonged.

“Oh, Adriana,” she cooed when our eyes met. “You actually came. I thought you’d stay away.”

“I’m fashionably late,” I replied, my voice icy. “And you—what are you doing here?”

She tilted her head, wide-eyed and sweet, a practiced innocence in her smile. “Joshua invited me. I’m here with him.”

I clenched my jaw. “The real wife is here now. Maybe it’s time you left.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Always the dramatic one, Cass. Come on… we can share him, right? Isn’t that the idea?”

Her brazen humor, once easy to dismiss, now felt like venom.

Then Joshua appeared, draping an arm possessively over her shoulders. Vanessa feigned discomfort. “She’s upset. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. She probably thinks I’m trying to take your place as his wife.”

Joshua turned to me, incredulous. “Adriana, seriously? Making a scene over Vanessa? She’s your friend. I thought we moved past this. You were always the one who wanted her around before.”

I met his gaze, calm and unyielding. “I’m here, Joshua. Why do you still need her?”

He blinked, caught off guard. My voice—steady, resolute—was not the quiet, forgiving tone he had always known.

“I just… I wanted both of you there,” he stammered, confusion in his voice. “It’s nothing more. Enjoy the night. Be civil.”

I looked at Vanessa. Then at Joshua. I realized nothing I said would alter their game. So I straightened, voice firm: “I’m done. I’m going home.”

And I left.

Joshua started to follow, but Vanessa suddenly groaned, clutching her stomach. “I… I think I need to go to the hospital.”

Of course.

Later that night, back in my apartment, I stared at my phone. A message lit the screen:

Sorry about tonight. Vanessa wasn’t feeling well. Had to take her in. Let’s talk tomorrow? I love you. I’ll make it up to you.

I didn’t reply. I let the silence linger.

Slowly, deliberately, I slid my ring off my finger. And tossed it into the trash.