No Longer Yours, Ex Husband

The moment Anthony’s gaze followed hers, she skillfully redirected his attention, walking in the opposite direction. That cunning fox had mastered her game.

Seeing them together had been unbearable, but not as painful as the first time I saw them in the elevator.

I left the hospital and went home, heading straight to the closet to sort through my belongings.

As I packed, I regretted not spending the day preparing my departure instead of going to the hospital. But maybe fate had intervened to show me how far their betrayal had gone.

My eyes landed on the wedding photo. I froze, all I felt was a suffocating bitterness.

Four years ago, we were so happy, or so I thought. But in just a few years, everything had unraveled.

I could not help crying while sorting through my belongings. Each item carrying its own story, a bittersweet memory of my life with Anthony, so I decided to sell it.

After all, I had brought so little with me when I first moved in. Everything else like the jewelry, the designer clothes, and the extravagant décor were gifts from Anthony, tokens of a love I then knew was conditional.

Piece by piece, I packed them into boxes, pausing occasionally as memories threatened to overwhelm me.

Once I finished packing and upload the items to sell, I dropped them off and returned to the sofa to rest.

Idly scrolling through Instagram, I switched to my second account and searched for Julie’s page.

I hesitated before pressing enter, bracing myself for whatever I might find.

Her profile loaded quickly, and there it was—a fresh update from two hours ago.

My heart clenched as I tapped on Julie’s update, dreading what she had shared but unable to stop myself.

The caption hit like a punch to the chest, [Our love is complete now -AJ]

The ultrasound photo left no room for doubt. She had boldly displayed their initials, making it abundantly clear that Anthony was hers.

It was not enough for her to betray me behind closed doors; she wanted the world to know.

I wanted to slam my phone against the wall, to destroy the reminder of everything I had lost. But before I could act, the door flew open abruptly.

Anthony stood there, his face a mix of confusion and irritation.

“Daisy, what’s going on? Why did I see your stuff at the second-hand marketplace?”

Ah, so he finally noticed.

The items he gave me—rare, custom, and often one-of-a-kind—were unmistakable.

A year ago, for our anniversary, he had even given me shares in a beauty brand, claiming it was a way for me to be involved in the industry since he did not want me to become an influencer.

“Even if you can’t promote beauty, you can own it,” he had said with pride.

But Anthony never understood what I truly needed. It wasn’t stocks, it wasn’t things—it was support for my dreams.

So, I replied coldly, “I don’t think I need them anymore,”

“Don’t joke, Daisy,” he snapped, his voice hard. “If I see you sell anything again, I won’t give you anything else. Do you even know how hard I worked to collect those for you? They’ll be back here by tomorrow, so take care of them.”

I almost laughed at the absurdity. He had gone and repurchased everything, as if that would solve the problem.

Before I could retort, Anthony crossed the room and scooped me into his lap effortlessly. His playful tone clashed with my simmering anger.

“So, tell me why are you acting like that? Are you still upset because I forgot your birthday last month?” he asked, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

That had been the first time in six years he missed something important to me. It was the time he had been in Hawaii with Julie, opening a resort—and, as I later discovered, making a baby.

“I’m not upset,” I started, but he silenced me by pressing a finger to my lips.

“Shh… I know I messed up,” he whispered, leaning closer. “But I’ve got a surprise for you. It’s been approved today, and I think you’ll love it. Guess what it is?”

I rolled my eyes, uninterested in his games. “A beauty brand again?”

Anthony chuckled, clearly unbothered by my lack of enthusiasm. “Oh, you’re sharp. But no, not this time. You’ll just have to pack so we can go and pick it up.”

Before I could respond, he hoisted me into his arms and carried me to the closet. But the sight of my packed suitcases stopped him in his tracks.

“Wow, baby girl, you’ve outdone yourself! You’ve already packed for the trip? I’ll get the maid to pack my stuff too. Let’s head to the airport.”

I sighed, utterly drained by his obliviousness. Even as he saw my things packed away, he assumed it was for his plans.

Still holding me bridal-style, Anthony carried me down the stairs, ignoring my protests.

I bit my tongue, knowing it would be futile to explain. But that would be my last trip as Daisy Harris, and I would not let him take that away.

Curious about where we were headed, I stared out the window of the private plane. But my thoughts were interrupted as Anthony slid closer, his hand wandering suggestively.

“We haven’t done this in the sky for a long time,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting.

I felt the bile rise in my throat. How many times had he used that same tone, those same words, with Julie?