My contracted wife

His eyes brimmed with tears and fear. His mouth hung open, trying to form words, but no sound escaped. He stood frozen, knees too weak to hold him upright.The heavy silence in the room and the thick tension in the air made it painfully clear—something was terribly wrong.George stood helplessly, watching his wife pack her bag. He didn’t know what else to say or how else to beg her to stay. With every item she folded into the suitcase, it felt like another stab to his chest.“Why are you doing this, Emily? I love you… please, don’t go,” George pleaded, tears streaming down his cheeks.But no amount of begging could change Emily’s heart.“George, this is only temporary. I need to leave before I lose myself in this marriage,” Emily said, her voice raised as she finally turned to face him.“Baby… we can work this out, we still—”“My mind is made up, George. This is for your good… and for the best,” she interrupted, turning away again to finish packing.She zipped the last compartment of

George didn’t sleep a wink that night. No matter how many pills he took, rest refused to come. His mind kept circling back to Emily and how things had gotten so bad she’d found another woman to replace herself without his consent.By morning, he was still lying in the same position, a hollow weight pressing against his chest. The bed, their bed—felt too large now, too cold. Her absence wasn’t a shock anymore. It had become a dull ache that clung to the walls of the house like frost.Then it hit him: he wasn’t alone.There was a stranger in his home.The aroma of fresh coffee reached him, subtle but jarring.When he descended the stairs, he found Luna in the kitchen, standing at the stove like she belonged there. She wore a soft gray sweater and black slacks, her long hair tied loosely behind her. The smell of eggs and toast filled the air.“I didn’t ask for this,” George muttered.Luna didn’t turn. “I know.”“Then why are you acting like this is normal?”She finally glanced at him, he

Snow whipped across the windshield as the car sped down a remote mountain road, pine trees blurring past like dark sentinels. Emily gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles white, her breath fogging up the inside of the glass. The headlights cut through the falling flakes, giving everything a hazy, ghost-like shimmer.She had been driving for hours, her body aching from tension, but her mind sharp buzzing with the satisfaction of escape.At last, she turned onto an unmarked gravel path, barely wide enough for the car. The tires crunched over the frozen dirt, the sound muffled by thick snow. At the end of the path stood a large vacation home weathered but intact nestled deep in the forest, cloaked in silence.She killed the engine, stepped out, and let the quiet wrap around her like a second skin. The wind stung her cheeks, turned her skin pink, her hair whipping around her face.But still she smiled.It wasn’t just the cold biting into her skin. It was the clarity of isolation

The apartment felt like a void, the echoes of Luna’s departure humming in the air, jarring against the heavy silence. George turned back to the window, wrestling with the grasping tendrils of despair. Outside, the city was a monochrome tapestry of white and gray, snow gently falling but the world still strangely vibrant. It felt surreal, as if it were mocking him—this peaceful scene while his life unraveled.Emily had taken with her not just her presence but the very essence of his reality. They’d built a life together, piece by painstaking piece: laughter shared over coffee in the mornings, late-night discussions about everything and nothing, the secrets whispered in the dark. Their love had been his anchor, and now he felt adrift.He was uncertain how long he stood there, watching the snowflakes spiral down, each one a tiny reminder of her absence. The warmth of the bourbon in Luna’s glass had faded, leaving only the chill of the apartment seeping into his thoughts. He turned his ga

Nathan had already driven the car out from the garage and was waiting right in front of the hall. He hadn’t fully grasped what had just happened, but from the tense atmosphere inside, he knew this wasn’t the moment to ask his boss any questions.So, he did what he knew best: he minded his business and focused on his job.Adjusting the rear view mirror slightly, Nathan caught a glimpse of George and the woman walking toward the car. George, typically composed and unreadable, looked unusually rigid. His steps were measured, like a man walking into a battlefield rather than toward his vehicle.Nathan's gaze flicked to the woman beside him. She was too calm. Her expression gave nothing away, her eyes fixed ahead as if she’d trained herself not to acknowledge the man beside her. There was no trace of warmth, no post-wedding glow. Only cold composure.George did something Nathan had never seen before he opened the door for her. She stepped inside silently, the soft rustle of her wedding dre