Ex-husband's Fight for Redemption

Betty:

One day, I found out my husband, Jayson Blackwood, was having an affair.

It wasn’t shocking in the way betrayal is supposed to be. Jayson had never treated me right, not once in the entire year we’d been married. Ours wasn’t a love story that led to marriage. It was a contract marriage. A carefully negotiated alliance between two powerful families, signed with vows neither of us truly meant.

Still knowing and seeing are two different things.

I have always known there was a part of him I could never reach. A part that didn’t belong to me. A part that was never mine to begin with. But reading that message on his phone made it real in a way I couldn’t ignore anymore. It wasn’t just emotional distance or cold indifference.

It was betrayal.

And somehow, it hurt more than I ever imagined it would.

Today is his birthday.

And today I will finally see her.

The woman who has what I never could.

The woman who made his heart beat. I spent the entire day making preparations for him.

Like I always do.

Pathetic, isn’t it?

Even after everything, after the cold nights, the silence at dinner, the way he looked through me like I wasn’t even there, I still held onto this foolish routine. Every year, on his birthday, I would plan something. Something small. Something intimate. Something that would make him stay, even if just for a moment.

Because his birthdays were the only times he didn’t completely ignore me.

The only times we existed in the same space without tension choking the air.

I told myself it meant something.

I told myself it was enough.

But now I know better.

The dining room was decorated beautifully. Soft golden lights wrapped around the pillars, casting a warm glow across the space. Fresh flowers sat in the center of the table, his favorite, though I doubted he even remembered telling me that. A small cake rested neatly beside them, a "Happy birthday hubby" was written on it.

Everything was perfect and pointless at the same time.

By evening, I was done.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the setup, my chest tightening with something I refused to name.

Then I heard the front door open.

My heart jumped excitedly.

Jayson is home.

His footsteps were steady, unhurried, echoing faintly through the mansion. I didn’t go to greet him. I never do. That wasn’t the kind of marriage we had.

Instead, I listened. He walked past the dining room without even glancing inside.

A few seconds later, I move quietly, my steps light against the polished floor as I make my way upstairs. Every second felt louder than it should have been. My heartbeat echoed in my ears, heavily.

What was I doing?

Spying on my own husband. How did my life come to this?

I reached his door and pushed it open slowly, carefully, making sure it didn’t creak.

I looked around his phone, before I found it lying carelessly on the bed.

I walk over, my fingers trembling slightly as I pick it up, and switch it on, it is locked.

I let out a quiet breath, my shoulders slumping slightly.

What did I expect?That he’d make this easy for meThat he’d leave proof of his betrayal open for me to see?

Ridiculous.

I was about to put it back on the bed when the screen suddenly lit up in my hand.

A message notification, I swipe it down to read the content.

“Congratulations to me, I’m on my period, no banging tonight!!!!”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

Another notification came in immediately after that.

An image.

I stared at it, my vision blurring slightly.

A picture of a menstrual pad. A pink bracelet wrapped around her wrist in the picture. The bracelet looks so familiar.

Before I could process that thought, another message popped up.

“Meet me at Morris Hotel, let’s celebrate your new age together Mr Blackwood.”

Mr Blackwood.

My husband.

My chest tightened so painfully it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t unlock the phone. I didn’t know his password.

The sound of water shifting in the bathroom snapped me back to reality.

I froze.

Shit.

He was still inside.

Quickly, I placed the phone exactly where I found it, adjusting it slightly to match its original position. My movements were rushed now, panic creeping into my veins.

I turn and walk out of the room, closing the door as quietly as I could behind me.

Only when I reached the stairs did I finally breathe.

And that’s when tears gathered in my eyes, it fell suddenly, and uncontrollably, blurring my vision as I grip the railing for support.

It hurts. I always told myself it wouldn’t.

That I wouldn’t care.

That this marriage meant nothing.

I walk downstairs, grab my bag without thinking and head straight out of the mansion. I didn’t want him to know so I didn’t take any of the cars.

I flagged down a taxi and got in quickly.

“Morris Hotel,” I said.

The driver nodded and started the car.

The ride felt endless.

My mind wouldn’t stop questioning me. Who was she?What did she have that I didn’t?Why her? Why not me?

I clenched my hands tightly in my lap. I sounded pathetic even in my own head.

But I couldn’t help it. I spent a year trying to be enough for a man who never wanted me, to earn something that was never mine to begin with.

And now someone else has it effortlessly.

The car stopped.

“We’re here,” the driver said.

I blink, pulling myself out of my thoughts.

Morris Hotel. One of the hotels owned by his mother.

I paid the driver and stepped out.

My legs felt strangely weak as I walked toward the entrance.

My heart is racing now.

Then I saw a beautiful woman walk inside wearing a short pink gown hugged her body perfectly, every step she took deliberate, graceful. Her stiletto heels clicked the marble floor, drawing attention without effort.

Jewel, my husband's one true love is back?