No Longer Yours, Ex Husband

Freedom from Anthony still felt agonizingly out of reach. Another week tethered to this life, another week of pretending.

We, once again, spent another night lying in the same bed, but the warmth of Anthony’s embrace felt like a distant memory.

Instead of comfort, his touch made my skin crawl as images of his hands exploring another woman filled my mind.

Sleep eluded me as my thoughts spiraled, replaying the scene in the elevator. How casual it was for him and Julie, how the employees barely reacted as if their affair was an open secret.

When morning came, Anthony woke me as he always did, teasingly lifting me from bed and carrying me to the bathroom to shower together.

It was a ritual that had once made me feel cherished. But then, it only made me feel sick.

‘Could they have done this, too? Shared these same intimate moments behind my back?’ I wondered.

However, Anthony, oblivious to my coldness, brushed it off.

He had grown used to pursuing me during the early days of our relationship, back when I kept my walls high.

To him, that was just another challenge to win me over again. But to me, the romance had soured beyond repair.

Even breakfast, once a cherished time, became unbearable. Every smile he gave me felt fake, every kiss a betrayal.

After he left for work, my phone buzzed with a message from the hospital, reminding me of my scheduled prenatal check-up.

It could very well be my last.

I decided to bring a box of doughnuts to the nurses and doctors who had supported me over the years.

They had worked tirelessly to help me, but in the end, I did not even want the child that Anthony and I had once dreamed of together.

“Miss Harris, that’s so thoughtful of you,” the nurse said as she accepted the treats. “Thank you so much.”

I forced a polite smile. “Anytime,” I said flatly.

As I turned to find a seat in the waiting room, my breath caught in my throat. There they were—Anthony and Julie.

They emerged from the gynecologist clinic together, Anthony’s hand resting tenderly on her flat stomach.

In Julie’s hand was a pregnancy book, her name printed clearly across the cover.

I froze, a thousand questions racing through my mind. ‘Was this their baby? But how?’

The irony was almost laughable. Anthony, the man who had introduced me to this very obstetrician, brought his mistress there, thinking I would not notice.

“So even the doctor knows about this?” I muttered under my breath, the ache in my chest intensifying. It felt like a thousand knives stabbing me all at once.

Did his family know, too?

Standing alone in the hallway, I wondered just how far their betrayal went. It was his family, after all, who had brought Anthony into my life in the first place.

I had never imagined becoming part of the Harris family. I was just an ordinary girl, fresh out of college, interning at the prestigious Harris Group to save for my dream of becoming a beauty content creator.

I needed the money to fund my equipment, so I focused on my work, staying out of office politics.

But fate had other plans.

On my first day, I found myself alone in the elevator with an older man who seemed unwell. His right hand clutched his chest while his left gripped his walking stick tightly.

“Sir, are you okay?” I asked hesitantly.

Before he could answer, he collapsed. Panic surged through me as I pressed the emergency button and dropped to my knees to perform CPR.

The basic training I had learned in college became a lifeline, and when the ambulance arrived, the EMTs told me that my quick response had saved his life.

Only then did I learn his identity—Anton Harris, the founder of the Harris Group.

The incident changed my quiet internship into a whirlwind of attention. The Harris family showered me with gratitude, but none more so than Anthony.

He pursued me relentlessly.

At first, I felt burdened by his attention. He helped me with difficult tasks at work, drove me home when I worked late, and sent gifts to my apartment despite my protests.

When I fell ill, Anthony even showed up at my doorstep, carrying me to the hospital.

I tried to dissuade him. “Mr. Harris, please don’t do this. I didn’t save your grandfather expecting anything in return. It was just the right thing to do.”

His response startled me. “I didn’t pursue you because you saved my grandfather,” he said softly, his eyes unwavering.

Confused, I frowned, but he quickly continued. “I liked you long before that. I first saw you on campus when I was in my final year. I watched you from afar because I couldn’t find the courage to approach you. When I found out you applied here, it felt like destiny finally gave me a chance.”

“But….” I hesitated, overwhelmed by his words.

“You don’t have to worry about my family,” he interrupted gently. “They’ve already given their blessing. We could get married right now if you wanted.”

I shook my head, trying to stay rational. “That doesn’t seem right, Mr. Harris. We haven’t even gotten to know each other properly yet.”

He smiled warmly, unfazed. “Then let me prove myself to you. Give me two years. By then, I’ll propose properly, and you can decide. In the meantime, let’s use this time to get to know each other. Please, give me that chance.”

Believing in the sincerity of his words, I nodded.

For the first time in my life, I experienced a kind of affection I had only ever dreamed of.

Still, I carried doubts. Growing up, I had seen love fall apart so easily, leaving only pain and regret behind.

But those two years felt like enough time to convince myself that maybe, just maybe, he was the one.

And so, I said yes.

Our wedding was everything Anthony had promised—a grand affair that captured the envy of everyone. He even bought an entire building and named it ‘Fortune Daisy’ as a tribute to me.

The announcement went viral, and strangers online praised me for “living the dream.”

But that dream had come at a cost.

To protect his family’s privacy, Anthony convinced me to give up my dream of becoming a beauty content creator.

He did not want our lives exposed online except for carefully curated moments, like grand banquets or public appearances.

At first, I felt disappointed, but I told myself it was for the best.

I could not have been more wrong.

My thoughts returned to the hospital. Julie had noticed me standing there, but instead of acknowledging me, she smirked with smug satisfaction.

Could it be, she mocked me?!