Three Years of Marriage Ended In Failure

Marvin hung up the phone, and I sank back into the couch, memories of that trophy flooding my mind.

I had always hated practicing the piano, but my parents made me stick with it.

To my surprise, I turned out to be quite talented, winning numerous competitions and eventually snagging one of the most prestigious piano awards in the world.

I couldn't wait to share my excitement with Marvin.

When I did, he held me close, his gaze filled with pride.

"Freya, I knew you could do it," he said, beaming.

"You're just going to have to step up your game," I teased, running my fingers along his jawline.

"Don't worry, I'll match your brilliance," he replied, his expression turning serious. "I have to be worthy of you."

Now, he had built an impressive career for himself, shining like a star. Maybe in his eyes, I no longer measured up.

Exhausted, I lay on the couch, drifting into a restless sleep. In my dreams, I was still coughing, my body pushed to its limits, desperately trying to grasp something, anything.

The next morning, I woke up to find my pillow stained with alarming blood.

Panic gripped my chest, and I felt a wave of dread wash over me. The thought that I might leave this world at any moment was unbearable.

I climbed the stairs to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Before I fell ill, I had been a radiant, beautiful woman. Now, I appeared gaunt and hollow, as if a decade had slipped away overnight. The dried blood on my lips and the vacant look in my eyes made me look like a specter haunting the night.

When I arrived at Marvin's place, I entered the code for the door, but it flashed an error.

He had changed the password. It was clear he didn't want me back.

The door opened, revealing the housekeeper.

"The trophy is on the coffee table. You can go grab it," she said.

I slipped on some house slippers and walked in, spotting my trophy sitting quietly on the table.

As I picked it up, tears welled in my eyes.

I traced my fingers over its surface, remembering the girl I once was—the one everyone envied.

"Is Marvin home?" I asked.

"Mr. Bogart is upstairs. Would you like me to get him?"

I shook my head. "No, that's alright."

It was better to avoid awkwardness.

I tucked the trophy into my bag, ready to leave, when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

I hesitated, telling myself to just take one last look.

"Marvin, we..."

And there she was, the other woman, always by his side.

My grip tightened on my bag as I made a hasty retreat toward the door, but he called out to me.

"Wait."

I stopped but didn't turn around.

"What's wrong? Afraid to see me?"

Slowly, I turned to face him, forcing a wry smile.

I didn't need a mirror to know how twisted and awkward my expression was.

Marvin's face was serious, his gaze cold and unyielding, locked onto me.

"Is there something you need?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"We should set a time to finalize the paperwork," he replied.

I froze, the reality of our situation hitting me like a ton of bricks. I had almost forgotten about it in the chaos of everything. But maybe this was for the best; at least I wouldn't have to see him too upset.

"When are you free?"

"Today."

I let out a bitter laugh, muttering, "That soon, huh?"

"Ms. Parker, you don't seem to be taking this very hard," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Sharon chimed in, her voice icy. "What's the matter? Can't stand to see him move on?"

I noticed Marvin shoot her a cold glance, and she quickly silenced herself.