Ethan and I had been married for five years. We got along well, respectful, like we were always on the same page. But then, in an interview, he dropped this bomb with a regretful look: "In the end, I couldn't marry the person I truly loved." That's when it hit me. The happy marriage I thought I had? It was all just a joke. 1 "So, Ethan, are you married?" On the screen, the interviewer had that gossipy glint in her eye. Ethan went quiet for a beat, then gave a small, sad smile. "The person I wanted to marry... well, she married someone else." The implication was clear: If the woman he wanted was with someone else, what was the point of him being married? I stared at the TV playing in the shop window, feeling completely lost. Then what was I? I caught my reflection in the glass and just went silent. The face staring back was pale, tired-looking, the picture of a worn-out stay-at-home mom with no spark left. I was stunned. Was that really me? I remembered how I looked five years ago when Ethan proposed. Confident, energetic, always laughing, full of life. Nothing like the drained woman I saw now. I still used a photo from his proposal as my phone background, a reminder of that supposedly perfect moment. In the picture, we looked great together – handsome guy, pretty girl, the ideal couple. Now, Ethan was still thriving, maybe even more so. Success had given him this air of command. And me? I gave a bitter laugh. Just another woman who’d let herself go. 2 2 Ethan and I knew each other in college, but we weren't close – more like a nod-in-the-hallway kind of thing. We actually got familiar after graduation. I lucked out and found a great mentor who took me under her wing, dragging me to client meetings all over. In just a few years, I became the top salesperson. Meanwhile, Ethan was just starting his own company. He’d just landed some seed funding and was desperately trying to recruit people. We bumped into each other randomly. Old classmates catching up, naturally, we talked about what we were doing. That’s how we started talking more. He’d tell me about his struggles, how hard starting a business was, how lonely he felt. I’d listen, offer comfort, try to cheer him up. Slowly, things got… blurry. Flirty, maybe? But neither of us crossed that line. Until one night, Ethan called me after having too much to drink at a client dinner. “Lauren,” he slurred, his words fuzzy, but I got the gist. “Will you be my girlfriend?” “Come work with me,” he added. “Let’s build this thing together.” My heart fluttered. I felt for him, too. Yeah, he was out there grinding all alone, no one really in his corner. That night, I held the phone, thinking for a long time. Eventually, I said yes. Ethan was ecstatic. “Thank you, Lauren. Thank you.” He was rambling a bit, but I could feel his genuine excitement and warmth. I smiled, but that good feeling didn’t last long. The day I submitted my resignation, my mentor – the one who’d basically trained me – called. She was quiet for a long moment on the other end. “Lauren, are you really throwing away years of hard work for some guy?” “I’m planning to leave in a few years,” she said. “My position would have been yours. You’d be the youngest executive in the company.” My response was firm. “Ethan and I are going to build something together. Our own future.” My mentor didn’t argue further. She just sighed heavily and hung up. I threw myself headfirst into Ethan’s tiny startup. It was brand new. No real investment yet, barely any staff, no connections. For years, Ethan and I worked ourselves ragged. There was one stretch where we didn’t even see each other for three whole months, too busy even to text. Even when we had downtime, it was just quick, exhausted meetups. Ethan would hold me, his voice laced with guilt. “Maybe I should be the only one hitting the road for sales. I hate seeing you like this.” He wasn't wrong. In just a year, I’d lost over fifteen pounds. People used to say I had a nice figure; now I was just skin and bones. But I didn’t care. Love gave me courage and determination. “Ethan,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “I will help you make this work.” Later on, when Ethan’s health wasn’t great, I took over most of his workload. Business trips? I went. Client dinners and negotiations? Me again. Recruiting talent? My job too. The company started taking off, gaining momentum. Finally, I could breathe a little and think about myself. Ethan and I had been together for six years. Maybe… maybe it was time to get married? Whenever I brought it up, Ethan would get vague, changing the subject. Love had blinded me. I ignored the weirdness. The company was just getting stable, he must still be overwhelmed, no time to think about marriage, right? One day, I came back to the office after a long trip. I was standing outside his office door with some files when I heard him on the phone. “...I still want to wait a little longer.” “Maybe! Who knows, maybe she’ll come back someday?” I couldn’t hear the other person, but Ethan’s face fell. “If that’s what she wants.” He took a deep breath. “I understand.” I knocked, put the files on his desk. He hung up quickly. I didn’t think much of it. The very next day, completely out of the blue, Ethan proposed. It was exactly what I thought I wanted. Surrounded by cheering friends, I happily accepted. Everything after that felt like fast-forward: wedding, pregnancy. But after I got pregnant, Ethan said to me: “The company’s stable now. You and the baby are what’s important.” He looked sincere. “You’ve worked so hard for years. It’s time you relaxed and enjoyed things.” I agreed. I cherished our first child. I stayed home, took it easy, eagerly waiting for the baby to arrive. Once I stepped back from the company, Ethan started coming home later and later. Maybe work picked up without me there, I reasoned. Soon, I didn't have time to dwell on it. After the baby was born, all my focus shifted. He was born a bit early, had some health issues, needed constant watching. I didn't notice Ethan's presence in our home fading more and more. Until today, watching that interview, it finally clicked. Maybe he hadn't needed me, or this family, for a long time now. 3 Ethan got home late that night. When he flipped on the light, he jumped, startled to see me sitting on the couch in the dark. Then his expression hardened slightly. "What are you doing sitting here in the middle of the night? Why aren't you asleep?" I looked at him quietly. "I saw the interview today." Ethan froze mid-motion, taking off his jacket. He clearly hadn't expected me to see it. And why would he? I was usually swamped with the baby, barely had time to glance at my phone, let alone watch some obscure financial talk show. Who knew fate would be so ironic? He paused only for that second, then tossed his jacket onto the sofa and looked at me, acting completely unfazed. "So?" So? I wanted to laugh, and I actually did. A hollow sound. "Is that really how you see our marriage?" My laugh was shaky, tears welling up. "Couldn't marry the one you loved?" "Then what about me? What am I?" Ethan sighed, annoyed. "It was just something I said off the cuff. Don't make a federal case out of it." I stopped laughing, wiping my eyes. My emotions were too raw. This wasn’t the time to talk. Seeing me quiet down, Ethan seemed to think he'd won. "You shouldn't sit around overthinking things all day. Go out, take a walk or something." "I bust my ass out there earning money, not so you can sit at home getting paranoid and..." His words were cut off by the sound of the bedroom door closing as I walked away. I thought about so much that night. Flashes of the startup days, drinking until my stomach burned at client dinners, sometimes throwing up three or four times in an evening. Then flashes of early pregnancy, Ethan always claiming he was too busy with work, never once coming with me to a prenatal checkup. Then back further, before we were officially together, how he’d sometimes take me out just to clear my head, magically producing a single rose on a walk. Years of moments, flickering before my eyes. Sleep was hazy, restless. We’ll talk properly tomorrow, I thought. When problems arise between a couple, you can't avoid them. You just have to solve them. Unfortunately, that was just my perspective. The next morning, Ethan left early and didn't come back that night. I called to ask where he was. The background was loud when someone picked up. It was a woman's voice. "Ethan? Ethan, phone for you." She sounded like she was shaking him awake. "Answer your phone." Ethan mumbled something incoherent. Then I heard a distinct smack sound, like a kiss, followed by the woman's playfully annoyed protests and laughter from others around them. No one paid any attention to the still-open phone line. Ethan didn't come home all night. I sat on the couch, wide awake until morning. Around 8 or 9 AM, my phone rang with his number calling back. But it wasn't Ethan. It was the same woman from last night. "Oh, sorry about that," she said, her apology laced with provocation. "Ethan drank a little too much last night. He crashed at my place." I just said, "Okay," showing I understood, and hung up without another word. That evening, Ethan came home acting like nothing happened. He didn't smell like alcohol, didn't look hungover. In fact, he seemed almost cheerful. When I asked him where he was last night, he casually replied, "Out for drinks with an old friend." Then, as if just remembering, he added, "It was Amanda, the one who answered your call. She just got divorced, her ex was really awful to her." "Don't get the wrong idea," he tacked on. "There's nothing going on between us." I saw the faint red mark on the back of his neck. "Oh," I said. Logically, I knew I should press for details. But emotionally, a part of me just wanted to let it go. He said it himself, maybe it really was nothing. But then it was one day, two days, a whole week – he didn't come home. The first few times, his excuse was, "Something came up at work, I have to stay late." When I questioned why no one else seemed to be working overtime, he dropped the pretense. "Amanda's ex found out where she's living now and he keeps showing up, harassing her," he told me, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. "She's terrified to even leave the apartment. I have to stay with her." I was about to argue when the baby in my arms started crying. Ethan, seemingly unable to stand the noise, quickly hung up. I focused on comforting the baby. Strangely, my usually calm child just wouldn't stop crying. I frantically grabbed the thermometer. 102 degrees! I immediately tried to call a car service on my phone. A fever in a young child is serious. We needed to get to the hospital right away! Wouldn't you know it, there was a big concert at the stadium tonight, just letting out. All the Ubers and taxis were on the other side of town. No cars available. No choice. I had to call Ethan again. He had taken our only car. I needed him back here, now, to take our son to the ER. The baby was still crying weakly, his distress tearing me apart. I kept praying Ethan would pick up. After three or four missed calls, he finally answered, clearly annoyed. "What is it now?" I could hear a woman's laughter in the background, but I didn't have time to care. "Ethan, the baby's sick, he has a high fever! You need to come back right now and take us to the hospital!" Ethan was silent for a moment, then scoffed. "Lauren, you're really something else now. You'd even use our kid like this?" "Don't waste your breath. I told you, there's nothing going on with Amanda. She needs help with something here. I'll be back in a few days." "I'm not lying! He's really..." "Look, I gotta go." He hung up abruptly.
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