STEP ASIDE EX-HUSBAND: THE RISE OF LIANA

LIANA'S POV

I stayed in the kitchen, surveying the candles I had burned with care, the silverware laid out on the table and the roses, still pungent in their vase. 

Today is our anniversary night, it's been three long years. I'd been counting down the minutes, or rather not, but praying under my breath we'd finally make it together tonight. It hadn't been an easy year, but I'd stayed true.

Dominic and I had known each other so many years ago in a world of stolen kisses and whispered promises, and then it had felt like magic. The sort of love you read about in books. And so when my marriage had lost its heat and its passion, I had hoped that perhaps we could turn it around. That this evening could be our new beginning.

I smoothed my dress, a soft slip of satin that I was certain would catch his eye. It was demure, but I had never been the flashy sort, never hungry for attention. He had liked that about me once. He had adored it and sadly, I had assumed that never would change.

Within me, a growing restlessness gnawed at my belly. I glanced at the clock, 7:15 PM. Dominic was supposed to be home by now. A part of me had grown accustomed to his lateness, his apologies. Sometimes work, sometimes an unexpected meeting, sometimes just… nothing. But tonight was different. I wished tonight to be perfect. I wanted him to see me, the woman he once loved, and not the person I had become in his life.

And then the door creaked open.

My heart leaped in my chest, a fleeting burst of pleasure taking over. 

Finally, He was home.  But no sooner had Dominic entered the room than my insides plummeted.

Dominic was not alone. He had one arm around the woman, a woman who was so stunning that she was almost unbelievable. She was dressed in red, the kind that sets your head aflame and makes you suspicious. She had legs that seemed to stretch on into infinity, lips glossed a deep red to match her dress, and eyes that burned with the certainty of one who had already claimed what was hers. Her loveliness was breathtaking, almost blinding.

I did not know her, but the look in her eyes told it all. She was not a friend. She was not an acquaintance. No, she was something else, something that Dominic had chosen instead of me.

My breath hitched as Dominic's gaze swept over me, unemotional and easy. The coldness I was accustomed to. No remorse. No remorse. He didn't even appear to care about the impact of his actions.

"Liana, this is Bella," he said, his voice too easy for the moment, as if introducing her was as mundane as ordering dinner. "She's been keeping me company for the past few months."

I stayed in the kitchen, gazing at candles I had carefully trimmed, the silverware laid out on the table, and the roses, still so pungently fragrant in the vase.

Tonight is our anniversary night. Three long years. I'd been counting down the minutes or at least pretending not to, I had praying under my breath that we'd finally make it together tonight. It hadn't been an easy year, but I had remained faithful. Even when he hadn't.

Dominic and I had met over a decade ago, in the most unlikely of places of all, a bookstore. I was bent between the rows of shelves, reaching for a book that I could not find, and he'd placed it in my hand with his twisted grin. That is where it all started. 

Love that blossomed in verse, in coffee slowly brewed, and in vows spoken under quilts shared. It was like magic then, the sort you read of in those same books. And so, even when the storms came when passion began to wilt and trust grew thin, I hung on. I felt I owed it to our beginning. To the love we'd had.

But the last year has been brutal. Dominic had changed. The late nights, the lies, the smell of another perfume on his clothes. He was a stranger sleeping beside me, a man I no longer knew. He was emotionally unavailable, cruel sometimes, and unapologetically unfaithful. Each time I confronted him, he'd gaslight me, twist the truth, make me feel insane for even wondering.

Worst of all were the tantrums; the cold, deliberate words that cut deeper than any physical blow ever could. I was his mental punching bag. Quiet and submissive. And later, I became his physical punching bag.

In the midst of this,I was always hoping he'd come back to the husband I wedded. But that husband was dead and buried.

Tired, I finally had the courage to hire a lawyer. I'd gotten the divorce through from my own end but still, still some stupid part of me had thought there was more room to try. 

One more chance at fixing what we had and our anniversary gave us a perfect opportunity. I was more than willing to try one more chance at turning it around.

I had put on a soft slip of satin; quiet and plain, like me. He had always loved that I wasn't flashy, that I didn't compete for attention. He had said that I was his peace. I thought that was something.

The clock kept ticking. 7:15 PM. He ought to be home by now. But he never was punctual these days, and his reasons had become shallow. But still, I waited. I prayed.

And then the door creaked open.

My heart leapt in my chest, a flash of hope. Finally, he was home.

But no sooner had Dominic entered the room than that hope fell apart.

He wasn't alone.

He had his arm slung over a woman, so lovely, so perfectly styled she was painted-on. She was dressed in red, the kind that sets your head aflame and makes you suspicious. She had legs that seemed to stretch on into infinity, lips glossed a deep red to match her dress, and eyes that burned with the certainty of one who had already claimed what was hers. Her loveliness was breathtaking, almost blinding.

I didn't know her, but I didn't have to. She screamed everything I had to know. She wasn't a friend. She wasn't some co-worker or fluke. She was something else. Something in place of.

Dominic barely even looked at me. His face was blank, cold and unreadable as always.

"Liana, this is Bella," he said, his voice too easy for the moment, as if introducing her was as mundane as ordering dinner. "She's been keeping me company for the past few months."

Bella smiled at me, a little, condescending smile. She didn't even seem scared, she was too confident, too comfortable in his world. She had a right to be. She was the woman he brought home and I? I was just the wife he had grown tired of.

It hurt me more than I had expected. I stood there frozen for a moment, my fingers curled into the edge of the dinner plate. I couldn't breathe, and I could feel the blood rushing up into my face.

How dare he?

I lit candles, dismissed the help and made dinner for him. I had worn makeup and dressed up for him and what did I get in return? A slut in my home?

It was our anniversary for God's sake. Where's his self discipline? The anger surged through me was explosive and it took me all I had to not react. 

I wanted to cry out. I wanted to wail. But above all, I wanted to be done. Truly done.

I had always prided myself on being able to say that I was tough, that I never let things get the better of me, but this? This was different. This was betrayal at its worst.

But I didn't blink. I couldn't. Not now. Not in front of an outsider, someone who was after my home.

"You're welcome to stay," I said to her in a calm voice. I was proud of myself that I hadn't let my rage boil over. "I'm sure you're hungry.".

I walked around them, my feet silent as I finished the placement of the last candles. I dared not look at Dominic. I didn't want to see the smug expression on his face, or the way he seemed to pretend that nothing had occurred. I didn't want to see the way his eyes lingered on Bella. I wasn't ready for all of that.

They sat down, and Dominic went on talking, as if this were a night out with friends, as if nothing was wrong. He kept on talking, laughing, too. 

His voice had a relaxed tone, as if he hadn't just destroyed everything I'd ever thought in my life. He spoke of their holidays, their late-night talks, and their "adventures."

He obviously had been seeing her for a long time. The audacity! 

Their laughter echoed like knives against my chest. 

I stood there silently, then walked out of the room, and marched into the bedroom silence crushing me like an unbearable weight. Dominic and Bella's laughter, their voices, having the best time of their lives in my home growing more annoying by the second. 

My hands trembled as I pulled out the divorce papers from the cabinet. I had signed them days ago but I had restrained myself. I had vowed to myself that I would wait, wait for him to understand, but sadly,  I had only hoped that this evening would bring change.

But now, the paper clutched in my hand, standing there, I didn't think.

With a hard grip, I went back to the dining room, the divorce papers in my hand nicely folded in the envelope. I didn't even look at him as I set them in front of him.

My eyes never left the table. I didn't want to look at his face.

"I signed already," I elucidated gently, my voice hardly above a whisper, but I made darn tootin' sure the words hit. I watched his face intently. He didn't get it initially. He simply stared at the papers, then at me, clearly believing this was some sort of tantrum.

He blinked at it. Then at me. Confused at first. Then angry. As if I was disturbing his night. As if I was the unreasonable one.

I felt hot tears well up in my eyes, but this wasn't the time to cry, not yet, so I blinked hard. I didn't cry.

I was done.

And this? This was my last act of love: letting go.