HE BROKE ME, SO I MARRIED HIS RIVAL

(Elena's POV) It's been six months since I last saw my husband. Six months of silence. Six months of solitude. Six months of waiting. Today marked a milestone—our wedding anniversary. I had been counting down the days, eager to surprise my husband, Lucas, at his office. Little did I know, I was in for a surprise of my own. It was already 9 p.m., so I knew he would be free, with no colleagues around. As I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, a mix of excitement and nervousness fluttered in my chest. I had planned the perfect surprise—his favorite cake, a bouquet of flowers, and a heartfelt letter. I envisioned the look of delight on his face, the warmth in his eyes, and the tender kiss that would follow. But as I approached his office door, a strange unease crept over me. The door was slightly ajar, and muffled voices drifted from inside. My heart skipped a beat. Who could he be meeting with at this time—on our anniversary? I pushed the door open, my fingers tightening around the cool, smooth handle. The plush rug beneath my feet swallowed my footsteps, making me feel like I was floating rather than walking. A bright smile was plastered on my face, ready to shout, "Surprise!" But the scene before me made my voice catch in my throat. My hands clenched around the gift bag, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe exhaustion was playing tricks on me. But no. Lucas Dawson, my husband of three years, stood between his secretary’s parted legs, her blouse undone, his hands gripping her waist as he whispered something in her ear. Soft classical music played in the background, setting a romantic atmosphere—just not for me. The very hands that had once held me with love. The same lips that had sworn devotion to me. For a moment, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Then, as if sensing my presence, Lucas looked up. Our gazes locked, and what I saw made my stomach churn—not guilt, not regret. Just mild annoyance, as if I were an inconvenience. “Elena,” he sighed, adjusting his tie as though I had walked in on a business meeting. “You should’ve knocked.” I had sacrificed everything for this marriage. Supported him through late nights, celebrated his victories, and held him through his failures. And now, I should’ve knocked? A sharp laugh bubbled up my throat, but I swallowed it down, refusing to let him see me break. Instead, I stepped forward, my heels clicking against the polished floor. “I came to celebrate our anniversary,” I said coldly, lifting the neatly wrapped gifts before tossing them onto the desk beside the very spot where his secretary, Rachel, sat, still breathless and flustered. “I didn’t realize you were already being served.” Lucas ran a hand through his hair, utterly unbothered. “Elena, don’t be dramatic.” Dramatic? “I devoted years to this marriage, Lucas.” A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he said nothing. That silence. That infuriating indifference—I had spent years hoping it would change. But people like Lucas don't change. My hands clenched at my sides. “We’re done, Lucas.” “You don’t mean that,” he smirked, leaning back in his chair. “You’ll calm down." You always do.” Yes, I always did. Even when I caught him with my best friend. I cut her off and still stayed. Even when he ignored me for months, dodging my calls, I still stayed. Even when he sneaked out in the middle of the night to take suspicious phone calls before finally stopping coming home altogether, I still stayed. And now, the woman I had picked from the slum treated like a sister, and begged Lucas for weeks to get a secretary job—she was the one sitting there with him. I met his gaze, my fury morphing into something colder. “Not this time.” I turned on my heel and walked out, ignoring the way my vision blurred with unshed tears. I dug my nails into my palm to keep them from falling. He didn’t deserve them. "Too much for an ugly, infertile woman," Lucas sneered behind me. I didn’t turn back. I didn’t stop. I walked out into the cool night air and pulled out my phone. “Hello, Mr. "James,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “File for divorce.” But I had no idea that fate wasn’t done with me yet. I got home, drained and disoriented after a long talk with my lawyer. Standing in front of the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me—hollow eyes, cracked lips, a ghost of who I used to be. The words ugly and infertile echoed in my head. My hand subconsciously rubbed my stomach as tears streamed down my face. I glanced at our wedding pictures on the wall, wondering where it all went wrong. My body shook. My breath was uneven. My heart physically ached. Tears kept pouring down my face uncontrollably until sleep took over. For days after that night, food and sleep became an enemy, I just couldn't do it. Hoping Lucas would walk in one night and apologize. He never did. The house, once a home, became a suffocating cage. Maybe I had been a fool to believe in love, but I refused to be a fool who begged to stay. Lucas ignored every attempt from my lawyer to finalize the divorce. He wouldn’t sign the papers. A month later, I got a call. “Elena,” my lawyer said. “Lucas is finally coming in to sign.” I grabbed my bag and rushed to the office. I arrived before him, my nerves on edge. I kept peeking out the window, my heart hammering in my chest. When his car finally pulled up, my stomach twisted. He wasn’t alone. He brought her. They walked in together, exchanging whispers and stolen kisses as if I didn’t exist. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I gripped the divorce papers. The words blurred before my eyes, but I knew what they said. Irreconcilable differences. What a joke. Lucas took a seat across from me, his piercing gaze void of emotion. “Elena,” he said, his tone flat, almost bored. “Just sign the papers.” I lifted my gaze, searching his face for any sign of regret. There was none. My grip on the pen tightened. Three years of marriage, gone just like that. “You know what, Lucas?” My voice didn’t shake, though my heart pounded. “I hope she was worth it.” He scoffed. “Stop being pathetic, Elena. It’s your fault for being ugly and infertile.” There it was again. Those same cruel words. My marriage started crumbling the moment the doctor announced to me and Lucas that my chances of reproduction were now slim. Of course, my chances didn't just become slim. It was all because I donated my kidney to Lucas even when I was diagnosed with hormonal imbalance and was told I might become infertile after the donation. I still did it. For his life, for our love, for everything we shared and now my infertility is an issue for him. I exhaled slowly. If this was how he wanted to play it—it's fine. With deliberate strokes, I scrawled my name at the bottom of the page. It was done. Without another word, I pushed the papers toward him and stood. The weight on my chest didn’t lift, but at least now, I was free. I walked out of the office with my head high, feigning indifference. “Elena.” I froze. His voice. That deep, familiar voice. But it didn’t make me weak anymore. I turned around, meeting his piercing gaze. “What do you want, Lucas?” I asked, steady despite the storm inside me. He took a step closer, unreadable as ever. “You didn’t have to go through with it.” I let out a bitter laugh. “You mean I should’ve kept waiting for a husband who didn’t love me?” My voice cracked. “I should keep waiting for a man that constantly body-shames me and makes me feel less of myself?” I held the tip of my gown for support as I was shaking all over. “For a man that constantly cheats on me without feeling any remorse? For a man who blames me for being infertile even when it all happened when I was saving his stupid life? Lucas, you are so mean.” The tears I've been holding back poured down like a river. Lucas smirked. “Don’t forget, a part of you is in me. You’re meant to suffer with me forever.” His words hit like a curse. “I'll crush you, Lucas; I'll make you regret this. I will take back the life I gave you” I grinned my teeth as those words flowed in my head. I turned and walked away. The past three years of my life replayed in my head. Three years. Th at was how long I had given to a marriage that had drained me and left me hollow. And for what? For Lucas Dawson, that piece of trash. What a life I've been living. But then again, what's left of me.