No Longer His Ugly Wife

LUCY’S POV

“Happy anniversary, honey!” 

Today marked our third wedding anniversary.

Three years ago, I was Lucy Whitmore. Slim, radiant, and the rebellious daughter of a powerful family. But I gave up everything, my title and my inheritance just for a man who painted sunsets on cracked canvases and whispered that I was his muse.

And this morning, that same man, my husband, Tom, smiled at me as if nothing had changed, walking in with paint still drying on his hands.

I wiped the flour from my apron and returned the smile.

“Happy anniversary.” I replied, trying not to feel self-conscious about the muffin top folding under my shirt.

He dug into his old leather bag and pulled out three tickets. 

“Surprise!” he declared, waving them with exaggerated flair.

I blinked. “What’s this?”

“Hawaii trip next week.” he grinned. 

“Beach BBQs, surfing, sunshine… I figured we all needed a break.”

My heart swelled. I never liked tropical trips. Swimsuits only reminded me I was overweight. And always the joke in every room.

“You, me, and Noah.” he added, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Do you like it?”

I was floored. My paint-covered, daydreaming husband suddenly became romantic? Maybe he hadn’t forgotten us after all.

But before I could let the joy settle in.

“And one more thing… Blair’s coming with us.” He added the final blow.

My smile faltered. “Blair?”

“Yeah. From next door.”

“The neighbor?” I asked, incredulous.

He nodded casually, like it was no big deal. 

“She helped me get discounts. And she used to be a part-time tour guide. She knows the island like the back of her hand.”

My heart dropped. 

“Tom, this is our anniversary trip. Why are we scrimping on costs by inviting someone else?”

Tom groaned.

“She was just trying to help, Lucy. And she got us a deal.” he said.

I shook my head. This can’t be.

“But she’s a stranger, Tom. This trip, it’s for our family.” I spoke.

“She’s not a stranger. And we shouldn’t worry about expenses for our precious trip, right?” He didn’t even pause. 

Just before I said something, Noah ran in, clutching his little dinosaur toy.

“What?! Hawaii trip? And Blair’s coming?!” he squealed.

I frowned. “Noah, no. This trip is for us, sweetheart.”

He pouted. “But Blair’s family! I don’t want to go if she’s not coming!”

My eyes widened. His words hit harder than I expected. 

I blinked at him. “But she’s not family, honey. I’m your—”

“No! I want Blair! I don’t want to go with just you two!”

I looked at Tom for support. But he sighed, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this, honey. Let’s not ruin the mood, alright?”

I forced a smile. “Okay…”

But something inside me had already broken.

Blair moved in six months ago. I remembered it like yesterday. Noah accidentally kicked a ball straight through her kitchen window. I ran over. I was horrified and apologized to her. But she just laughed it off like it was charming. She stood there, all legs and honey curls, in tight yoga pants and a crop top that never seemed to shift out of place.

Since then, she was always around. She lived alone, but somehow, she never seemed lonely. Tom helped her fix her sink, her shelves, even her TV. She baked pies, real ones, not store-bought, and said things like “I just had extra, so I thought I’d share.” And it became our favorite.

I wanted to believe she was just friendly. But I always felt watched, replaced, and slowly edged out.

Noah adored her. Tom laughed too easily when she was around. And me? I kept shrinking, folding myself smaller and smaller until all that remained was a quiet ache behind my smile.

That night, as I folded laundry and tucked Noah into bed. I resolved to talk to Tom again. To ask or to beg for space or boundaries. To remind him that this trip was for us.

But suddenly, the doorbell rang. I was frustrated, and saw the door swung open. And Blair walked in like she was performing. 

She was wearing a tight tank dress that hugged every inch of her figure. Her blonde curls bounced like they’d been professionally styled. Her arms were perfectly toned. She held a tray of cupcakes and an oversized smile.

“Noah!” she called.

“Aunty Blair!” He ran straight into her arms, giggling like she’d just walked out of a fairy tale.

Tom walked over with a grin and a glass of iced coffee. “Thought you’d need this.”

Blair winked at him. “Thanks. You know me so well.”

I stood there, invisible. Watching them. Listening to their laughter. The three of them fit like puzzle pieces.

“I brought a little something for the trip.” Blair announced, pulling out a shopping bag.

My chest tightened. She handed Tom a red baseball cap, bright and sleek.

“And one for Noah.”

He squealed in delight, putting it on right away. “We match!”

“I’ve got one too.” she said, pulling out an identical red cap and slipping it over her curls. 

“We’ll be the red trio, easy to find in a crowd.” she chuckled.

My hands clenched at my sides.

Then she looked at me with mock surprise. 

“Oh! Lucy. I didn’t forget you.” she smiled.

She reached into the bag and pulled out a dull, floppy sun hat, beige, wide-brimmed, wrinkled like it’d been shoved to the bottom of a thrift bin.

“I am sorry. I couldn’t find one in your size.” she said with a sad little smile. “But this one’s practical. More sun coverage.”

Tom chuckled. “It’ll be perfect for you.”

I took it with numb fingers. The hat is… ugly. I walked to the mirror in the hallway. Slowly put the hat on, and stared at my reflection.

The woman who looked back wasn’t me.

She was heavier. She looked tired. Her eyes were dull. Her cheeks were round. The hat swallowed her face. In short, she looked like someone’s aging aunt on a gardening trip.

I slowly turned my head and saw them.

Tom, Noah, and Blair in the reflection. They’re laughing wearing their red hats glowing like a neon sign. They look like a perfect little family. 

I smiled bitterly.

And for the first time in three years, I asked myself a question I had no answer for.

Had I already been replaced?