Good-For-Nothing Husband

Chapter One – The Anniversary That Broke Me

(Celeste’s POV)

The smell of roasted chicken filled the kitchen — his favorite.

For the first time in five years, I didn’t bother setting the table with candles or flowers. No cake, no wine, no decorations. Just food.

Just silence

I glanced at the clock again. 9:47 p.m.

Nicholas still wasn’t home.

Every year, it was the same thing. I’d cook, decorate, wait… and end up eating alone.

The first year, I told myself he was busy. The second, that he was tired.

The third and fourth, I told myself love requires patience.

But tonight, I was just tired — tired of waiting, tired of pretending, tired of being married to a man who only existed in name.

The soup had gone cold when I finally heard the sound of the front door unlocking. My heart jumped before my mind caught up. I quickly stood, wiping my hands on the apron.

Nicholas walked in, wearing his usual gray suit. His tie was loose, his face unreadable. He didn’t even glance at the table.

“You’re late,” I said quietly.

“I had things to handle,” he replied, dropping his car keys on the counter.

“Work?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

He hesitated. “No. The hospital.”

My chest tightened. I didn’t need to ask who. I already knew. Isabella. His ex. The woman who had been sick for years — and the woman he still couldn’t let go of.

I forced a small smile, pretending I wasn’t breaking inside. “I made your favorite.”

He finally looked at the table. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s our anniversary,” I said softly.

He looked away. “Right.”

Just that — right.

No “happy anniversary,” no smile, no hug. Just a word that felt like a blade sliding into my chest.

I tried to hold the silence, but he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here.”

My eyes brightened despite myself. “What’s this?”

“A letter,” he said flatly, handing it over.

I smiled weakly. Maybe, just maybe, he remembered. Maybe it was tickets for a short trip. Or a note. Something small, something that said I still care.

But the moment I opened it, my heart stopped.

The papers stared back at me, black ink, sharp words. Divorce Agreement.

I blinked, thinking I was seeing it wrong. “What… what is this?”

He didn’t flinch. “Divorce papers.”

I felt the room spin. “Why?”

Nicholas sighed, rubbing his temples “Celeste, you know Isabella has been sick for years.”

“Yes, I know,” I said, my voice shaking. “But what does that have to do with us?”

He looked at me — calm, cold, like this was just business. “She doesn’t have long to live. Maybe a year at most. Her last wish is to get married… and I want to grant it.”

My breath caught. “You want to marry her? While I’m still your wife?”

He didn’t answer. His silence was louder than any words.

I laughed softly, even though tears were burning my eyes. “You’re joking, right?”

He looked down, avoiding my gaze. “I’m serious.”

I took a step back. “So that’s what all this has been about? All the nights you didn’t come home? The calls you answered while I was talking to you? You’ve been planning to leave me for her?”

His jaw tightened. “Celeste, this isn’t about you. She’s dying. I owe her that much. After she’s gone, she’ll promise to remarry you, I still love you”