On the Day We Filed for Marriage, I Sent My Cheating Ex to the Cops

I looked at him, fighting back the tears pooling in my eyes, and said nothing.

He ran his hands over me, his voice gentle：

“Lilah, stop this.”

“Today's a big day. Let's go get the license first.”

Greg thought I'd caved, the way I had the eleven times before.

All it ever took was a scrap of kindness from him, and I'd fall right back in line, cleaning up whatever mess he'd made.

I laughed, suddenly.

“Sure.”

“Of course we're getting it.”

Greg walked me to the entrance of the county clerk's office. Emily trailed behind us at a distance.

May 20th—the unofficial lovers' holiday. The line outside the county clerk's office stretched down the block.

Greg stood beside me, attentively smoothing the wind-blown strands of hair from my face.

“Lilah, lose the face. You want strangers out here laughing at us?”

“Let's just get the license, and I'll make it up to you after. Okay?”

That tender act of his dragged me straight back five years.

The year my mom was dying—the hospital had sent the critical-condition notice. I was sitting alone on a corridor bench, shaking so hard I couldn't stop, when Greg came rushing in and wrapped both hands around mine.

He said：“Lilah, don't be scared. I'll be with you for the rest of your life.”

That single sentence kept me trapped for five years.

My phone screen lit up with an old calendar reminder, the annual kind.

Eleven license appointments, crammed onto the screen one after another.

The first time, he said Elijah Sanchez was cornered in an alley by loan sharks and it could turn deadly.

I was standing outside the county clerk's office in a white dress. I transferred him every dollar I'd set aside for rent.

The second time, he said Julia James had collapsed and was in the ER.

I rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night and put up thirty thousand for her hospital deposit.

The third time, he said the property deed was lost and it might cause problems with the license……

The further I scrolled, the colder I felt.

Because after every single broken appointment, Greg would show up the next day with a little gift.

Cheap trinkets, the kind that cost a few dollars……

He'd hold me and say：“Lilah, thank god I still have you.”

Now I understood. That was never love. It was maintenance on a meal ticket.

“Bzz bzz.”

Greg's phone vibrated.

The screen lit up. A message from Emily.

“Greg, your girl looks so upset. Think she doesn't wanna marry you?”

“Are you still coming over tonight? I'll be all clean and waiting for you.”

Greg flipped his phone facedown without a flicker of expression, like he hadn't seen a thing.

I stared at him, ice in my voice：

“When did it start with Emily?”

Greg sighed, impatience bleeding through：

“About six months.”

“I already told you, it's just a fling. Why do you have to keep dragging it up?”

Six months ago was our eighth appointment.

That day, he told me his brother Elijah had been grabbed over a gambling debt. Eighty thousand to get him back.

I panicked, broke my fixed deposits, and wired him every cent.

But that night, I used his tablet and saw his social media check-in. A hot springs resort in the next town over.

I hadn't thought anything of it at the time.

Turns out he'd taken money I scraped together to save someone's life and blown it on a hot springs trip with another woman.

I took a deep breath and shoved the ID paperwork back into my bag.

“We're not doing this today.”

“Greg, there's no license. We're settling the money first.”

His face changed. He grabbed my wrist.

“Delilah, have you lost your mind?”

“We're in public and you're bringing up money right now?”

“Are you trying to throw away five years between us?!”

Right then, my phone rang.

It was Julia.