The day I caught Beckett cheating, I lost my mind. I smashed everything in sight. The hysteria took over, and my body simply gave out. By the time I blacked out, I was bleeding out on the hardwood floor. Panic-stricken, he carried me to the emergency room. At my bedside, Beckett wept, clutching my cold hands. "Aurora, I’m so sorry. Just get better," he begged. "I’ll do anything. I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you. I will never, ever leave your side." Be careful what you wish for. In his frantic rush to get my prescription filled, he ran out of the hospital lobby and was hit by an oncoming SUV. Both of his legs were crushed. I survived, but the trauma of that day took our baby and left me barren, trapped in a heavy, suffocating depression. From then on, he became his own jailer. He locked himself to his wheelchair with a heavy iron chain, refusing to ever be out of my sight. Whenever he felt the urge to stray, he would prick his own skin with sewing needles, leaving a map of tiny, weeping scars across his arms to punish himself. Until today. I pushed the door open to find Hailey, our young live-in maid, kneeling before his wheelchair, her head buried deeply between his thighs. I broke. But instead of apologizing, his face contorted in anger, and he shouted at me: "Aurora, for God's sake, I made one mistake years ago! Am I always going to be filthy in your eyes?" "Hailey was just cleaning my scarred legs. I gave up my goddamn legs to pay you back—isn't that enough?" "We lost one baby, and you act like the sky has permanently fallen! How long are you going to hold this over my head?" One baby. The child we had tried to conceive for five long years, reduced to a mere inconvenience in his narrative. Looking at his snarling, bitter face, a strange, hollow quiet suddenly washed over me. I realized, in that quiet moment, that there was absolutely nothing left in this marriage worth saving. ... I unclipped the heavy iron chain from his belt and let it clatter to the floor. "I'm done holding on, Beckett." He froze, kicking the chain aside, his eyes boring into mine. "Aurora, what do you want from me? For five years, I’ve given you my life. I haven't left your side." "But the second things don't go your way, you threaten to pack up and leave. What is it going to take to make you happy?" His voice cracked as he fell into a coughing fit. Hailey immediately rushed forward, rubbing his back to soothe him. Looking at his frail, bitter state, my mind drifted back to five years ago. Back then, Beckett was radiant, full of ambition. On the night his startup went public, he held me tight and promised me a brilliant, glittering future. But at the very peak of his success, I walked in on his betrayal. Now, staring at the man confined to this wheelchair, I realized the bitter truth: I could never truly forgive him. Hailey wrapped her arms around him, her eyes shining with tears. "Beckett, please, don't get upset. You'll hurt yourself." The intimacy of their embrace sent a sharp, dull ache through my chest. Once, in a freezing basement apartment in Brooklyn, sharing a single bowl of instant ramen under a thin blanket, we had held each other just like that. I forced a dry, joyless smile. Hailey looked up at me, her expression dripping with victimhood. "Aurora, why do you always have to hurt him? Don't you know how much he loves you? He whispers your name every single night." My brow furrowed. "How would you know that?" Her cheeks flushed, and she looked at Beckett with a soft, adoring gaze. "After you fall asleep, I go to his room to help ease his physical tension. When he... finds relief, it’s always your name he calls." The words hung in the air. For a moment, I thought I had misheard. I stood frozen, my mind going completely blank. No wonder he had made such a sacred ritual of tucking me in every night, murmuring sweet promises until I fell asleep. It wasn't love. It was just to clear the path for another woman. I looked at Beckett, biting my lip so hard I tasted copper. "Beckett, how desperate are you? Even losing your legs couldn't stop you? What is it about betraying me that makes you feel so alive?" Seeing my agitation, he instinctively shielded Hailey behind his chair and let out a long, weary sigh. "Aurora, it's not cheating. You haven't let me touch you in years." "I'm a man. I have physical needs. Hailey was just... maintenance. I love you. You are the only Mrs. Ward." I love you. He had whispered those words on the Ferris wheel when he proposed. He had sobbed those words by my hospital bed five years ago, begging me not to leave. And now, caught in the act once more, he shielded another woman and said them again. He wore his devotion like a badge of honor, yet happily surrendered his body to anyone else. Staring at the man I had loved for five years, my heart went entirely cold. "Let her take care of you for the rest of your life," I whispered. "I'm not cut out for this." I turned to leave, but Hailey lunged forward, grabbing my wrist. Her eyes welled with tears as she sobbed, "Aurora, why are you doing this to me? I was just doing my job, taking care of Beckett. Why do you have to paint me as some homewrecking whore? Am I really that cheap to you?" She wept, looking up at Beckett for protection. That was the spark. Beckett pulled her close, looking at me with a cold, biting disgust I had never seen before. "Aurora, have you had enough?" "This is between us. Why are you dragging her into it?" "And let's be honest—how clean are your hands? You cry over that miscarriage every single day, but have you ever stopped to think about why you became barren? If you hadn't been ruined by those men back then, would one miscarriage have ruined your body?" I went rigid. I couldn't breathe. That was the deepest, darkest trauma of my life. It was the one scar we had tacitly agreed never to touch. Now, for Hailey’s sake, he tore it wide open without a second thought. Our move out of that freezing Brooklyn basement had happened right after I landed my first corporate job. I remember running home, waving the offer letter in his face, crying tears of joy because we were finally going to make it. But that job became a living nightmare. My boss drugged my drink at a client dinner and offered me up to his wealthy associates. In my final moments of consciousness, I managed to speed-dial Beckett. He had arrived like a madman, his eyes wild and bloodshot, beating those men until his knuckles fractured and his hands deformed. He had knelt before me, crying harder than I was, whispering over and over that none of it was my fault. That was the night I decided I would love him forever. But the trauma left me with severe PTSD. For years, any physical intimacy triggered a visceral, nauseating panic. Beckett had held me through those dark nights, promising he would wait, promising we would get through it together. But he was the first to break that promise. Now, Beckett stared at me with complete indifference. "If you hadn't played the frigid saint for years, I wouldn't have strayed five years ago." "Aurora, because of you, our entire social circle laughs at me. They say I chained myself like a dog to a damaged, dirty woman." He reached down, taking Hailey’s hand. The tenderness in his eyes was something I hadn't seen in years. "You can call me a bastard, but Hailey is a good girl. If it weren't for her, I probably would have ended my life long ago." "Aurora, I can't live without her anymore. Why don't the three of us just live together? I'll make you lobster, she'll crack the shells for you, and you'll still be my wife." My hands shook uncontrollably. I spat out three words: "In your dreams." Fragments of the past came rushing back, crashing over me. I remembered the day Beckett excitedly told me he wanted to get a cat. I had laughed, telling him he'd lose interest in a week. But he had researched breeds and premium food for days, eventually buying a beautiful, soft ragdoll. On weekends, he insisted on taking me to trendy cafes he found on social media, plotting out the best angles for photos. I had teased him for being so vain. And yet, in five years of marriage, he had never realized that I am deathly allergic to shellfish. Now, the picture was clear. He wasn't incapable of care; he just didn't care about me. He did all of those things because they were Hailey's favorite things. Why was I still standing here, humiliating myself? I forced my breathing to slow, and in a quiet, steady voice, I said, "Beckett, let's get a divorce. We're done." Without waiting for his response, I walked into the bedroom and began packing. Five years of my life fit easily into a single suitcase. There was a soft knock on the door. Without looking up, I said, "Don't bother, Beckett. I'm leaving." But it was Hailey who stepped inside. With lingering tear-tracks on her face, she whispered meekly, "Aurora, I wanted to apologize..." I frowned, disgusted by the performance. Then, my eyes fell on her finger. She was wearing a custom-designed platinum band—the one I had custom-ordered for Beckett years ago. We had promised it would only go to the love of our lives. Now, it sat on her ring finger. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Hailey’s meek expression vanished. "Aurora, I'm glad you finally got the message and decided to drag your pathetic self out of here," she sneered. "He always told me you were like sleeping with a piece of wood. Honestly, he enjoys me so much more." I closed my suitcase and looked at her coldly. "Save the drama. You can have him. I don't fight over garbage." Seeing that her words hadn't broken me, her eyes narrowed. She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen, turning it toward me. It was a video. The footage was shaky and intimate. In it, Beckett was pinning Hailey down, his breath heavy and ragged. They were tangled in the sheets, flushed and desperate. I clenched my fists, maintaining a neutral face. "You think a sex tape is going to break me?" Hailey’s smile widened into something cruel. "Look closer, Aurora." I forced myself to look at the screen again. My heart stopped. In the video, Beckett’s legs were perfectly fine. He was standing, moving, strong. The timestamp in the corner of the video read: Five years ago. The exact date I had caught him cheating the first time. The blood rushed out of my face, and a deafening ring filled my ears. She was the first woman. The one who had caused our screaming fight, the one who had driven me to collapse in a pool of blood and lose our child. And Beckett had kept her close all these years, claiming she was just "hired help." Thinking of the baby I had lost, something in me snapped. Losing all control, I lunged forward, grabbed her collar, and slapped her across the face with everything I had. The blow was loud and heavy, leaving a bright red mark on her neck and cheek. Hailey’s lip split, but a twisted, triumphant smile flashed across her face. She threw herself backward, crashing dramatically onto the hardwood floor. "Aurora, please! I just wanted to apologize... why are you doing this to me?" she sobbed, her voice echoing loudly. "Is there really no room in your heart to forgive me?" Outside, the frantic whirring of wheelchair wheels grew louder. The door burst open, and Beckett charged in. Seeing Hailey sobbing on the floor, his eyes turned bloodshot with rage. He lunged forward, pushing me away with immense force. I lost my balance, crashing hard against the sharp corner of the bedside table. A sickening, sharp pain exploded in my lower abdomen. He scooped Hailey into his arms, glaring at me with venomous hatred. "Aurora, are you insane? Why the hell did you hit her?" "Just because your own body is ruined and you can't have kids, you have to destroy her too?" "Honestly, back then... maybe your boss targeted you because of your own twisted, miserable attitude." It felt like a physical blade piercing my chest, a freezing coldness spreading through my veins. "A toxic, bitter woman like you—I should have just let them ruin you," he spat. He carried Hailey out, slamming the door behind them. I lay on the floor for a long time, unable to stand. Even though I knew my body was barren, seeing the dark smear of fresh blood on the floor beneath me made my chest tighten in agony. Five years of devotion, ending in a pool of blood. Using the last of my strength, I dragged myself up, took out my phone, and booked the earliest flight out of the country. By the time Beckett was checking Hailey into the hospital, I was already boarding a flight to Switzerland. At three in the morning, looking out the cabin window, the glittering lights of the city stretched out below me. But there was no longer any place for me down there. I pulled out my old phone, ready to erase the past. The screen lit up with dozens of missed calls and texts from Beckett. Aurora, where the hell did you run off to? Get back here right now and apologize to Hailey. If you don't show your face in an hour, I'm freezing your bank cards. Without my money, you won't survive a day out there. Don't come crawling back to me. Beneath those threats, a few frantic messages appeared from later in the night: Why is there blood on the floor? Are you hurt? Where are you? Why aren't you picking up? It's freezing outside. Come home right now, or don't bother coming back at all! I let out a soft, dry laugh. He was right about one thing: I was never coming back. He had gotten his wish. He and Hailey could live out their days in peace. He had known me for five years; he knew exactly how much I loved him. He was so certain I would never leave, so sure I would always bow my head and forgive him, that he felt entirely comfortable flaunting his betrayal in my face. Beckett was a smart man. He probably knew Hailey’s dramatic falls were mostly an act. But he wanted to test me. He wanted to see just how far he could push me before I broke. He believed that because he had rescued me once, and because he had sacrificed his legs, I owed him my absolute submission. He thought a few sweet words could erase any betrayal. But I was done drowning in his abyss. A lifetime is too short to waste on another five years of misery. ... By the early hours of the morning, panic finally began to claw at Beckett's chest. In all our years of fighting, I had never gone completely silent like this. He sent another flurry of texts, his tone softening with every message: You don't have any money on you. Don't wander the streets. Just come home. I unblocked your cards. Stop playing games, Aurora. Come home. My phone remained silent. An hour later, Beckett was pacing in his chair, consumed by anxiety. He checked the bank records—no transactions. He checked the security cameras at our front gate; there was no sign of me leaving after my initial departure. When his eyes fell on the dark, dried bloodstain on the floor, his heart hammered against his ribs. Then, a notification popped up on his phone from our linked travel account. It was a real-time flight tracker. Beckett’s pupils dilated as he stared at the screen. It was a one-way ticket to Zurich, Switzerland.
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