My Fiancé’s “Detox Sundays” Were For His First Love

I had just hung up with the church when the electronic lock turned in the entryway. Leon opened the door and walked in. He shrugged off his custom trench coat, worth at least 20,000 dollars, and tossed it onto the floor in disgust. A wet, clear stain clung to the hem. Leon was a severe germaphobe. Even a splash of coffee on his cuff was enough to make him order his assistant to throw the garment away immediately. Yet now he merely loosened his tie, walked to the bar, and poured himself a glass of ice water. "Damn. Some filthy stray dog rubbed mud all over me on the way home." I stared at the stain. Mud was not transparent, and it didn't smell sickly sweet, like strawberry candy. It was obviously drool from when 5-year-old Lily had ridden on his shoulders. I didn't move from the couch. Leon finished his water and set the glass down hard. "Don't talk to me today. Sunday's mental detox took too much out of me. I'm exhausted, and I need absolute silence." Without even looking at me, he headed straight for the bathroom. Watching him go made my stomach churn. Detox. Letting his first love's daughter ride him like a horse certainly did sound exhausting. In the silent living room, Leon's phone lit up on the coffee table. A text from Selena appeared clearly on the screen. Selena: Leon, Lily says she is already looking forward to next Sunday. Thank you for spending the day with her. The shower stopped moments later. Wrapped in a towel, Leon hurried out and picked up his phone. The hard lines of his face softened instantly. His fingers flew over the screen, and a smile he did not even notice tugged at his lips. Only after sending his reply did he realize I was watching. The smile disappeared, replaced by the cold mask of a Wall Street executive. "The executives' group chat is discussing tomorrow's market opening. I told you not to look at me like you're interrogating me. You've crossed a line." I looked away. "Fine. I won't look." Phone in hand, he returned to the bathroom. I opened the laptop in front of me, logged in to my company's internal network, and navigated to the personnel transfer page. A headhunter had offered me a role at the London headquarters a month ago, leading development on a new project. I had rejected it without hesitation because Leon hated long-distance relationships and demanded that I stay in New York to become a full-time wife. Now I clicked Accept. HR at the London headquarters replied almost instantly. London HR: Claire, welcome aboard. The project is urgent, so you must arrive in London by early Wednesday morning next week. Can you do that? Claire: No problem. I'll be there on time. The next morning, Leon stood before the enormous dressing mirror, knotting his tie. I walked out of the closet as he picked up a bottle of perfume, sprayed it twice into the air, and stepped into the mist so it settled over his freshly pressed shirt. It was an obscure woody fragrance. I remembered it clearly. Selena had once posted on social media that nothing attracted her more than a man's cologne scented with cedar. Leon had never worn cologne before. He claimed synthetic fragrances interfered with the instincts he used to read market data. I watched him carefully adjust his collar. Without looking up, he asked, "Did you prepare my allergy medication?" Every spring, the plane-tree pollen in Manhattan triggered his mild allergies. In previous years, I always sorted his tablets into his travel pill case a week in advance. Looking at his cedar-scented shirt, I answered calmly, "I forgot." His hands froze on his tie. He turned to me, his eyes full of obvious displeasure and accusation. "You forgot? Claire, that's ridiculous. "As my future wife, you can't even manage a detail this basic. I'm deeply disappointed in you. Selena would never make such a careless mistake. She always remembers what everyone around her needs." Selena again. His voice carried nothing but contempt for me and admiration for her. I walked to the bed and straightened a pillow. "If Selena's memory is so good, ask her for it." Leon gave a cold laugh. "Are you jealous? Claire, jealousy makes you hideous. "Selena is a poised, elegant woman, and you don't measure up to even half of her. "Forget it. She always keeps my medication in her car. She is far more considerate than you." I looked at his smug face and nodded. "Fine." My easy agreement clearly surprised him. He gave me a suspicious glance, but he was in a hurry and didn't press the issue. "I won't be home for dinner. Selena has a legal problem, and I need to help her handle it." He grabbed his car keys and left the apartment. Once the place fell completely silent, I called an international moving company and then went to the consulate to apply for an expedited visa. On my way back, I stopped at the bank and opened the administration page for our joint insurance account. Leon and I had established it when we became engaged. Without hesitation, I removed his name from the beneficiary field and pressed Enter. The system confirmed the change. Sunlight streamed through the car window and warmed my face. Leaning back in the seat, I felt as if the stone that had weighed on my chest for five years had finally been lifted.