Goodbye Scumbag, I’m Getting Married

Caroline’s Point of View

My husband’s first love ruins our third year anniversary.

I’m sitting by the window of a fancy restaurant, nervously waiting for Knoxx, my husband. I dress up in my favorite black dress. It’s been three years of marriage—three years of hoping, waiting for the man I love to finally see me, to finally understand that I’m more than just a wife of convenience. That it is not all about the arranged marriage.

I fiddle with the napkin in my lap, glancing at the clock, watching as each minute crawls by. Any moment now, Knoxx will walk through the door.

Tonight feels different. Tonight, I feel like something is going to change.

I had seen the headlines earlier this week:

[Wayne Corp Heir Spends Fortune on Rare Ruby Necklace—A Gift for Someone Special!]

"Someone special." Those two words have been ringing in my head ever since I read them. Who is more important to him than me, his wife?

After all the distance between us, the missed anniversaries, the cold silences… perhaps Knoxx*is finally ready to show that he cares. Perhaps tonight is the night he makes it all right.

The restaurant is warm and inviting, there are clinking glasses and soft conversation filling the air. But as time keeps ticking, the hope begins to fray.

Where is he?

Glancing toward the door once more, my heart skips a beat because the doorman straightened.

"Mr. Wayne," he says, and my breath hitches up in my throat.

I see Knoxx step through the door, and my breath catches in my throat. He’s dark-haired, with rich, wavy locks that frame his chiseled face perfectly, drawing attention to his sharp jawline and the faintest hint of stubble that adds an edge to his striking appearance. His deep-set blue eyes sparkle with an intensity that always made me feel seen, as if he could look right into my soul.

Today, he’s wearing a tailored suit, accentuating his broad shoulders and slim waist. The fabric hugs him just right, giving him an air of effortless confidence. As he moves, there’s a grace to him, a natural charm that seems to pull everyone’s attention, including mine. It was this combination of charisma and good looks that made it so hard to let go.

 He's holding a bouquet of red roses, their petals like dark, velvety wine. And for a second, everything inside me melts. I knew it. He’s coming. Just like I told my father, Knoxx is learning to love me. Maybe, just maybe, our marriage is going to be what I’ve always dreamed it could be.

I begin to rise, ready to meet him, when something stops me cold.

Knoxx does not walk towards me. He does not even glance my way. My heart starts racing with confusion. Instead, he walks past me, his long strides carrying him towards a table across the room. My brow furrows and a dull throb is beginning to form at the base of my head.

Then, he stops in front of someone else.

A sexy blonde woman. She’s strikingly beautiful, and my heart sinks further as I realize she’s holding her arms open for him. They embrace warmly, smiling at each other like they share a secret the world doesn’t know about. A secret I’m not a part of.

Before I can fully register it, my breath catches in my throat as the woman turns, her profile coming into full view. It’s Dolly—Knoxx's ex-girlfriend. The one I've always known he's kept close, even if he never said it outright.

All of a sudden, my bloodstream rushes to my head, my vision blurs over for a moment, hit by it like a tidal wave of realization—she's wearing the ruby necklace.

The ruby necklace he bought at auction.

The one I thought was for me.

I freeze. It's as if time closes its doors. My hands tremble in my lap, and the noise of the restaurant fades into the background as my entire world crumbles around me. He bought it for her.

Rage burns hot in my chest. Before I can think, I rise from my chair, my fists curling at my sides. I want to storm over, to tear that necklace off her neck and wipe that smirk off her face. I want to confront Knoxx—demand to know what he thinks he’s doing.

My legs move before my brain can catch up, but just as I take a step forward, a waiter gently places his hand on my arm. “Ma’am,” he says softly, his voice like a tether pulling me back to reality. “Is everything alright?”

I stop. The fury boiling inside me cools just enough for me to take a breath. I can’t make a scene. Not here. Not now. I sink back into my chair, my entire body trembling with restrained emotion. I watch as Knoxx leans down to whisper something in Dolly’s ear. She giggles, her fingers brushing against his arm. My throat tightens painfully.

The world feels too bright, too sharp as I turn away from the scene and push myself to stand. I don’t want to be here anymore, to witness whatever connection they still share. The evening that started with so much hope has turned into a nightmare I never imagined.

I hardly remember the ride home. It's the walk through that door where the silence in our house is deafening. The room is appointed just as I envisioned it for tonight, soft candlelight flickers against the walls casting the shadows across the space, the dinner table set for two. Fresh flowers sit in the middle, the scent of roses filling the air.

Everything was for him. For us.

But he wasn’t here.

I kick off my heels and throw my purse onto the sofa, wiping at the tear that finally breaks free. The pain is suffocating, but beneath it, something else simmers. Betrayal. Anger. Desperation.

I pour myself a glass of wine and sit in silence, staring at the room I spent hours preparing. How could I have been so naive? How could I have believed that after everything, he would finally see me? Love me?

After a moment of drinking, the front door clicks open and freezes me. I listen for the all-too-familiar step as Knoxx walks in, his presence filling the room. I don't look up. Not yet.

He pauses, looking at the decorations, the candles, the effort I made to make this night special. His eyes settle on me, and I can feel his glance, but I cannot meet it.

"You forgot, didn't you?" My voice is quiet but the pain in it is unmistakable.

Knoxx doesn't say a word for a moment. Then finally, in a completely flat tone, he utters, “I’m sorry. I forgot the anniversary date.”

The silence stretches between us like a canyon. I hate how cold he looks. How detached. This was supposed to be a special night. A night where we might have finally connected.

“Where were you?” I ask, my voice trembling.

"Celebrating Dolly's birthday," he says, coldness in his voice as always. "I promised her I'd be there."

The words dangle between us, bitter and sharp. I gawk at him, jaw dropped in disbelief.

Dolly. Again.

"Dolly's birthday? Y-You promised her?" My voice breaks. "What about me? Your wife? What about our anniversary? The promises you made to me?"

Knoxx's gaze hardens. He reaches into his suit pocket, pulls out a checkbook, and scrawls his signature across a piece of paper. “Here.” He tears the check from the book and places it on the table in front of me. “One million dollars. Buy whatever you want. Consider it an apology.”

I stare at the check, bile rising in my throat. My tears threaten to blur my vision. One million dollars? This is all he sees this as? He doesn’t get it. He never has.

“I don’t want your money,” I whisper, my voice laced with a bitter laugh. I stand and face him, hands trembling, my heart breaking into a thousand pieces. “This happens every year. You miss our anniversary, you spend it with someone else, and then you throw money at me like it’s supposed to fix everything.”

Knoxx’s expression shifts. His eyes darken as he folds his arms over his chest. The warmth that I imagined earlier when he walked into the restaurant is completely gone. He’s like a block of ice now.

“Isn’t that why you married me?” he says coldly. His words slice through me like knives. “For the money?”

I flinch as if he’s struck me. The air leaves my lungs, and I can’t breathe for a moment. He thinks I’m with him for his money? After everything I’ve done? After three years of humiliation and trying to be the wife he wanted, he still sees me as nothing more than a gold-digger?

“Do you really think that I married you for your money?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.