My husband’s business empire crumbled, a casualty of failed investments and crushing debt. I decided to sell the gold jewelry he’d given me over the years, one piece for every anniversary. I wanted to see how much of a dent it could make in his financial ruin. That’s when I was told it was all fake. Next, I went to a real estate agent for a property appraisal. He pulled up the records right in front of me. The deed was a forgery. But the house—a five-million-dollar property—was a wedding gift from Kevin. He’d promised it would be in my name, and my name alone. What else was a lie? On a whim, I snapped a photo of our marriage certificate and sent it to my best friend, Lily, who worked at the county records office. Her reply came back in minutes. “Fake.” I stared at the crimson-bordered certificate, the official-looking seal, and a laugh escaped my lips, brittle and sharp. “Thank God,” I whispered. “It was all fake.” 1 My heart hammered against my ribs as I waited for Lily’s final confirmation. In the five years I’d been married to Kevin, I had never once doubted his love for me. His work was demanding, and he often missed our anniversaries, but he always made up for it. He’d shower me with lavish gifts as compensation, and in the days that followed, he’d be doubly attentive, doting on me. I never questioned the authenticity of those gifts. He was my husband. I loved him unconditionally. So I’d spent the entire day, from sunrise to sunset, clutching the tokens of his affection, visiting one high-end boutique after another. I’d grilled every clerk, my last shred of hope evaporating with each sympathetic shake of the head. The final blow came when a jeweler, to prove his point, held a piece of the "gold" to a flame. It blackened and crumbled into ash. The blade that had been hanging over my head finally fell. I steadied myself against the polished glass counter. “Then why,” I asked, my voice trembling slightly, “does it have a receipt from your store?” The clerk checked his system. “The receipt is real, ma'am,” he said gently. “But the jewelry you brought in isn’t ours.” So Kevin had bought the real pieces. He just hadn't given them to me. I stared at the forged property deed in my hand and dialed the city’s land registry office. "I'd like to check the owner's name for the property at One Riverside Drive, Apartment 101." “Of course, one moment please,” a calm voice replied. Just then, my phone buzzed with Lily’s final, damning message. It was the death sentence for my marriage. “Julie, it’s a fake. But I checked Kevin’s records. He has a legally valid, existing marriage. The woman’s name is… Jasmine Vance.” The voice from the land registry returned. “Ma’am, the registered owner of that property is a Ms. Jasmine Vance.” Ten years ago, I had defied my parents to be with him. I’d packed my savings and moved from the quiet South to this bustling northern city to build a life with him. Back then, Kevin's career was just taking off, and he was out networking until the early hours of the morning. To make him more comfortable when he stumbled home, drunk and exhausted, I’d wait up for him every night with a thermos of hot, soothing broth. For a decade, I never once slacked. I appreciated how hard he worked to provide for us, so I took on everything at home. I was the cook, the cleaner, the planner. He never once set foot in the kitchen. As his business thrived, the smoke and fire of my domestic life slowly transformed me into the weary, worn-out housewife he now seemed to despise. The years of household labor left me with a chronic ache in my lower back; sometimes if I bent over for too long, I couldn’t straighten up. He’d say he didn’t mind, but whenever his gaze fell on me, I’d catch the flicker of aversion before he looked away. I told myself it didn’t matter. As long as we were together, everything was fine. But the husband I thought loved me down to my bones had been living a sweet, secret life with someone else for the entire decade. Jasmine Vance. Kevin’s high school sweetheart, the one that got away. Now, she was a massively popular influencer. She’d started out with suggestive, borderline-NSFW live streams but had recently rebranded, championing a new philosophy she called "Single and Sovereign." She preached to her legions of devoted followers that being an unmarried woman was the ultimate form of empowerment, a life of freedom to be enjoyed to the fullest. Just last week, she was trending for her "unapologetically unattached" lifestyle. I opened TikTok and found her profile. A single account had liked every single one of her videos. A quick search confirmed it: the account was linked to Kevin's phone number. They even had matching profile pictures, a subtle couple's set. I used to make silly videos myself, nudging him to like them like other couples did. He wouldn’t even glance at my screen, his face a mask of annoyance. "Look at that filter, Julie. It’s embarrassing. Besides, I don't even have a TikTok." But under Jasmine’s very first video, he had commented: “Stunning.” I looked at my own reflection in the mirror and saw a ghost of the woman I was ten years ago. I thought my devotion would be seen, would be cherished. I never imagined he didn't even want to look. Just then, the front door clicked open. Kevin was home. He dropped onto the sofa in silence, waiting for me to scurry over with a hot drink, as I always did. When I didn't move, he huffed, got up, and began rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. "Where do you keep the water?" he finally barked, his voice laced with impatience. Of course. After all these years, he didn't even know where to find a glass of water. This man, who had never lifted a finger at home, had meticulously schemed to buy fake jewelry and forge official documents just to deceive me. What was I to him? An unpaid maid? I tossed my phone onto the coffee table in front of him. “Kevin, I thought you didn’t have a TikTok account. Then why have you liked every single one of Jasmine Vance’s videos? I checked. The account is registered to your phone number.” He looked startled, as if it had never occurred to him that I might check. He had been so brazen because he thought I was blind. After a long moment, he finally muttered, "It's just business." "Business? You're too busy to look at your phone? You take hours to reply to my texts, but you have time to—" "Will you drop it?!" he snapped. "Her career depends on engagement and traffic. What's the big deal if I give her a like?" It was just like before we were married, when Jasmine’s shadow loomed over our lives. Kevin remembered she was afraid of thunderstorms and would video chat with her every time it rained, even though I’d told him, countless times, that I was scared of them too. He knew all her favorite foods, and over time, they somehow became my favorite foods too. After we got married, I threw a few tantrums about it, and he finally seemed to back off. I thought his heart was finally mine. I never realized they had just found a new, more discreet way to be together. Despair washed over me. I turned and walked into the bedroom to pack. "Sweetie, I’ve got the paperwork for the capital injection into Kevin's company almost finalized. Just waiting on your go-ahead." It was my father on the phone. I was in the middle of stuffing clothes into a suitcase. I let out a long sigh. "Dad, cancel it. We're not investing." "What happened? I thought he was having cash flow problems. Tell me, did that boy do something to hurt you? I told you not to run off so far away, all alone with no one to fall back on, but you wouldn't listen…" "No, it's not that. I'm just… a little tired." "My dear girl," he said, his voice softening. "If you're tired, you come home. Dad will take care of you." Before I moved to this city for Kevin, I’d tested the waters, but he’d always claimed he was too busy with work to even visit my parents once. When we got married, I had a huge falling out with my family, and they didn't attend the wedding. So, to this day, Kevin had never met them. He believed I was utterly alone, with no one to rely on but him. But what fight between a father and daughter can’t be mended? Years ago, Dad had secretly come to see me, and we had long since reconciled. When I learned Kevin's company was in trouble, I had prepared a two-pronged plan: first, I would liquidate my own assets to help him pay off his debts; second, I would have my father inject capital to get his company flowing again. A few days ago, Kevin had excitedly told me that an investor from the South had contacted him, and the company was saved. I was genuinely happy for him, smiling and congratulating him, believing I would soon see that confident, ambitious man again. I never imagined that in this marriage I had poured my entire soul into, I was the most insignificant person in his eyes. When I walked out with my suitcase, Kevin looked baffled. “What is this? Are you really doing this over a TikTok account? Seriously? Besides, you don't know anyone in this city. Where are you even going to stay?” I didn't answer. I just walked out the door and didn't look back. But Kevin followed me. I knew exactly what he was thinking. With the investment on the line, he couldn’t afford any drama. He’d once told me that these southern entrepreneurs valued character above all else, and the most direct reflection of a man’s character was his family life. Kevin followed me into my hotel room, his eyes scanning the luxurious suite. "You rented a place this nice? This must cost a fortune." I just smiled and shook my head. This apartment, located in the heart of downtown, was worth millions. My father had secretly bought it for me the year I got married. After we reconciled, he had the deed transferred to my name. And this wasn't all. I had over a dozen other properties in my name back south. I had originally planned to use these assets to help Kevin get back on his feet, no matter how badly his company failed. We could have started over. Now, I was just thankful I had decided to check on the gold jewelry first. What a close call. I had almost helped him rise from the ashes. Kevin sat rigidly on the sofa, waiting for me to fawn over him. He still believed he had done nothing wrong. I glanced at the tie he was wearing, a terrible mismatch with his shirt, and I couldn't help but chuckle. For all these years, I had picked out every single one of his outfits. And all his love, he had given to Jasmine. "Julie, stop this nonsense. Come home with me," he said, reaching for my hand. I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his fingers digging into my wrist. It hurt. "Kevin, what are you doing?!" "I said, come home with me!" I twisted my wrist sharply, breaking his grip. "And what gives you the right to take me anywhere?" He sneered. "What right? We've been married for five years. We are a legally married couple!" His eyes were firm, confident. "What kind of wife just walks out like this?" "Is that so? A legally married couple?" "Of course!" That’s when I threw the crimson-bordered certificate on the table. "You mean, with this marriage certificate? The one with a forged seal?" His face went pale. "You… you…" "I had Lily check. Your legal wife's name is Jasmine Vance." I watched his expression shift from shock to panic. He tried to deny it. "That friend of yours is just jealous of us, she’s lying to you! You can't just believe everything she says." I was prepared for this. I pulled out my phone and showed him the official registration document Lily had sent me. The name ‘Jasmine Vance’ was printed neatly right next to his. His face fell. "Julie, listen to me. I didn't mean to deceive you. It's just… she was threatening to kill herself. I did it to calm her down, that’s all… But I’ve been with you all these years! You’re the one I love, you know that!" I let out a cold laugh. "So the fake jewelry, the forged deed… you call that love?" Kevin wouldn't leave. He kept stammering, pleading with me to go back with him. Perhaps he had forgotten that before I became his wife, I was a doctoral candidate in law. I picked up my phone. "Mr. Hayes, if you don't leave now, I'm calling the police." After Kevin left, I stretched out on the plush king-sized bed. So this is what it felt like to do nothing for a whole day. The release of tension was so complete that I fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake until dusk. When I did, my phone was blowing up with hundreds of notifications. I thought maybe one of my old, silly videos had gone viral. But when I opened TikTok, I saw my inbox was flooded with vicious messages from strangers. "You're just a housewife, what gives you the right to throw a tantrum!" "You think you can compete with our Jasmine? She's a queen, single and sovereign!" "Get lost, you bitter hag. Stop trying to ride Jasmine's coattails!" "With a face like that, playing the victim is your only move. Just leave our Jasmine out of it!" ... Confused, I started searching online. Jasmine streamed every day, and screenshots were everywhere. It didn't take long to find it. During her latest stream, Kevin had suddenly appeared on camera and launched into a tirade, painting me as a freeloader who had lived off him for a decade, now throwing a fit and running away from home over nothing. Jasmine fanned the flames. "It's just typical little-woman drama. She'll cry for a day or two and be back home in a week, guaranteed." Then, feigning innocence, she added, "He's just my buddy, everyone, don't get the wrong idea." It was clear she had no intention of making their real relationship public. At the end of the stream, Jasmine even shared my TikTok handle, encouraging her fans to "go talk some sense into her." Kevin thought this public humiliation would break me, that I’d come crawling back to be his beast of burden. The last message in my inbox was from Jasmine herself.
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