Ten Years of Marriage, Ruined By Lies

When I got home, my hands trembled as I began packing my few belongings into bags. The numbness in my chest was almost comforting—it was better than feeling anything at all. My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing with calls and messages, but I ignored most of them. Finally, I glanced at the screen, overwhelmed by the flood of notifications.

[You’re divorcing Mark? Are you out of your mind?] One friend’s text screamed at me. [People used to say you two were the perfect couple! If you divorce him, no one will believe in love anymore!]

Another message came through, this one from an old college friend. [Jane, be real. Has Mark ever treated you poorly? You’ve been married for years. Is divorce really the answer now?]

I could only shake my head at the absurdity of it all. They didn’t understand. None of them did. Even my parents had called earlier, their voices full of concern and disapproval.

[Jane, honey, you’re not too old yet. Have a baby and everything will go back to the way it was. A child will fix things.]

A child... I thought bitterly. My hand unconsciously moved to my stomach. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring a child into this broken mess of a marriage. I didn’t want to.

Just as I was lost in my thoughts, the front door swung open, slamming against the wall with a crash. Mark stumbled inside, his eyes bloodshot, his breath reeking of alcohol. He staggered towards me, rage flickering in his eyes when he saw the half-packed suitcase on the floor.

“What the hell are you doing, Jane?” he slurred, his voice thick with anger.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I took a deep breath and looked at him, my eyes filled with the exhaustion of a decade of love gone wrong. “Do you even know what today is?” I asked quietly.

Mark frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember. His face remained blank.

I smiled sadly, the weight of his forgetfulness crushing my heart. “It’s our tenth wedding anniversary, Mark.”

For a split second, his expression froze and I saw a flicker of guilt cross his face. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual arrogance.

“Anniversary? So what?” he muttered, yanking off his tie and tossing it aside carelessly. “We’ve been married for years, Jane. You really think missing one stupid anniversary is a big deal? We’ll celebrate another time.”

Before I could respond, he moved closer, his hands roughly grabbing at my shirt. His eyes were glazed over, his touch cold and indifferent, like I was nothing more than an object to him now.

“Mark... stop,” I whispered, feeling the bile rise in my throat. His breath was a sickening mix of tobacco and another woman’s perfume. Kath’s perfume.

His grip tightened as he buried his face into my neck, the stench of him making me gag. The room began to spin and without warning, I shoved him off me and ran to the trash can, vomiting violently.

Behind me, Mark cursed, his voice incredulous. “Are you kidding me? You’re actually disgusted by me now?”

I wiped my mouth, my body shaking with nausea and anger. He was furious—furious that I wasn’t playing along with his charade. Furious that I wasn’t willing to be his wife in name only while he lived a double life.

“You’re gonna regret this, Jane,” he spat, his voice venomous. He grabbed at my clothes again, more forcefully this time, his hands pawing at me with no concern for my feelings.

My body tensed and for a brief, agonizing moment, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. My stomach clenched and I gasped. The baby. It was as if even this tiny life inside me sensed the danger, the threat.

“Stop!” I screamed, shoving him away with all the strength I had left. “Get away from me!”

He froze, stunned by my sudden outburst. I straightened my crumpled shirt, my eyes blazing with fury. Then, without thinking, I slapped him hard across the face. The sound of my palm connecting with his cheek was deafening in the silence that followed.

Mark stared at me in disbelief, his eyes wide with shock and betrayal. He had never seen me like this before. He had never seen me so broken, so done.

“Jane...” he whispered, his voice low, dangerous. “You’re really something.”

I said nothing. I just stood there, my chest heaving, waiting for him to leave. And he did. With one last furious glance, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him so hard that the walls shook.

The sound echoed through the empty house, leaving me alone in the deafening quiet. I sank to the floor, my hands shaking as I pulled my knees to my chest.

Half an hour later, my phone buzzed again. I glanced at the screen and saw Mark’s latest social media post. He had uploaded a picture of himself paragliding, the wind in his hair, a carefree smile on his face. The caption read:

“Grateful to have paragliding when I’m feeling down.”

I stared at the screen, feeling my heart shatter all over again. The comments were flooding in, but the one that caught my eye was from Kath.

“Don’t worry, Mark. You’ll always have me. Paragliding heals the soul.”

The words burned in my chest like acid. I threw the phone across the room, my breath coming in ragged gasps. They had everything in common. Shared hobbies, shared passions, even a connection I could no longer deny. And what did Mark and I have now? Only the bitter remains of a broken home.

I felt the ache in my heart intensify, a pain so deep it left me gasping for air. But it was nothing compared to the cramping in my abdomen. I placed a hand on my stomach, whispering through the tears, “You came at the worst possible time.”

I stood up shakily, grabbing my bag and throwing on a coat. I couldn’t bear it anymore—the thought of carrying his child when his heart belonged to someone else. My feet carried me, almost against my will, out the door and towards the hospital.

At the front of the hospital, I hesitated, staring at the cold, sterile building before me. Could I really do this?

Inside, the doctor’s voice was firm but gentle. “Jane, have you really thought this through? Given your condition, this might be your only chance to have a child.”

Her words hung in the air like a death sentence. I thought of everything Mark and I had gone through together—living in that tiny, freezing apartment, eating instant noodles because we couldn’t afford anything else. The promises he had made to me back then, vowing to give me the best life possible. And he had, for a while.

But promises meant nothing if they weren’t built on love and loyalty.

“I’ve thought it through,” I said, my voice steady despite the tears in my eyes.

The doctor sighed, giving me one last look before nodding. I was wheeled into the operating room, the cold sterile lights overhead blurring as the anesthesia took hold. When it was done, I felt hollow, like a part of me was missing.

As I left the hospital, still weak and pale, a furious voice cut through the cold night air.

“Jane! Stop right there!”