DUMPING MY BILLIONAIRE WIFE

Earl Valerio carried the pizza box carefully, its warmth seeping through the thin cardboard and into his hands. “Good evening, sir! Here’s the pizza you ordered,” Earl said politely, keeping his voice soft and careful. He forced a faint smile, though the weight of the day pressed on his shoulders. His mind was not on the lights or the laughter or even the money he was about to receive. His thoughts were with his wife, Kennah, who was still recovering from her accident. The doctor had insisted she needed rest, and Earl knew she couldn’t manage without him. Every minute spent on the streets, every delivery made, was for her. One of the men near the pool noticed him immediately. “See? We’re playing cards, aren’t we?!” he shouted sharply, his voice slicing through the soft night air. “Just put it down on the table. Don’t try anything funny. Now leave!” Earl hesitated. His hands shook slightly as he held the pizza box. “Sir… you haven’t paid yet,” he said quietly, trying to keep his composure. His words barely carried over the laughter and clinking glasses, but he said them anyway. The man’s expression hardened. Without warning, he got up and walked toward Earl. The man opened his wallet, grabbed some cash, and slapped it into Earl’s hand. The force of the slap hurt, stinging his palm sharply. Earl closed his eyes, biting back a quiet wince. He could have reacted, could have protested, could have walked away in anger—but he didn’t. His wife’s health depended on him. Every penny counted. Swallowing the pain and the humiliation, he took the money silently. Carefully, he placed the pizza box on the table as instructed, keeping his head low. The group barely glanced at him again, their laughter and conversation resuming like nothing had happened. Earl turned to leave, each step heavier than the last. The streets back to his small apartment felt endless, and with every step he reminded himself of the fragile balance he had to maintain—earning enough to survive, providing for his wife, protecting her from worry, and carrying the weight of his pride quietly. As he walked, his mind drifted. He remembered Kennah’s soft smile before the accident, the way her laughter could fill a room. She had been full of life, confident and strong. But now, she was fragile, needing constant care and support. That thought made his steps heavier, each one weighed down by responsibility and worry. The money in his pocket would help her tonight, make her comfortable, allow him to give her one more day of rest without stress. Just as he was about to step away completely, a voice stopped him in his tracks. It was soft but firm, cutting through the noise of the party and the night air. “Enough of this. You’re ruining the evening…” Earl froze. His heart skipped a beat. The voice… it sounded impossibly familiar. He turned slowly, squinting toward the light. No. It couldn’t be. It was… exactly the same voice as his wife, Kennah Muller. He stepped forward cautiously, unsure if his eyes were deceiving him. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. He had seen her that morning, weak and pale, resting in their apartment. How could she be here, speaking with that same calm authority among strangers? Earl’s eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on a single detail he could not ignore—the woman’s forearm. She was wearing the bracelet he had given her, the small silver chain with a charm shaped like a star. That bracelet. There was no mistaking it. That simple piece of jewelry, worn just like he had given it to her, was proof enough. His mind raced. Could it really be her? Or was it someone who looked and sounded just like her? His feet moved slowly toward the pool, toward the woman who had somehow appeared in this world so far removed from their small apartment and his quiet, careful life. The laughter around them seemed distant now, almost like a separate world Earl wasn’t part of. All he could see was the woman, and all he could feel was a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and a strange flicker of hope. Maybe… maybe it was really her. He stopped a few steps away, hesitant to speak, hesitant to act. What could he even say? How could he explain that she was supposed to be resting, that she had been in an accident, that the doctor had told him she needed rest? Nothing made sense, and yet, there she was. Earl looked at her forearm again, the bracelet catching the soft glow of the pool lights. His chest tightened. He wanted to run to her, to grab her hand and make sure she was truly safe, but something held him back. The people around her were loud, careless, and unaware of the storm of emotions now raging inside him. One wrong move could ruin everything. The woman’s voice rang again, clear and firm, and Earl felt it tug at him. He had to know. He had to be certain. Carefully, he stepped closer, trying to make himself small, unnoticeable, yet unable to resist the pull of recognition. For a long moment, neither spoke. Earl’s heart raced. He felt a mixture of fear and relief, confusion and longing. Everything he thought he knew about the night, about his life, about his wife’s recovery, suddenly seemed uncertain. The air between them was heavy, charged with questions that had no immediate answers. Earl Valerio clenched the money in his pocket, his knuckles turning white. It seemed trivial now, all the effort of deliveries and late nights, the struggle to earn for his wife. Nothing mattered except this—the possibility that she was here, in front of him, alive and wearing his gift. He swallowed hard and took another careful step closer. His mind spun, trying to make sense of the impossible. He wanted to speak, to call her name, to demand answers. But the words caught in his throat. All he could do was look, silent, hoping that somehow she would recognize him too. The night air wrapped around him, cool and heavy, carrying the faint scent of the pool and the faint sound of laughter from the careless rich people who were oblivious to the quiet storm unfolding nearby. Earl’s heart pounded in his ears, each beat echoing the same thought over and over: That’s Kennah… it has to be her… He took a small, tentative step forward, and the bracelet on her wrist caught the light once again. In that moment, he knew he could no longer ignore the truth. And then, "Ke–Kennah?" he burst out. Voice very low and fragile, as if couldn't even bring himself to be near her.