Why Does The Fifth Year Of Marriage To Him Matter?

On the fifth anniversary of Rebecca Perry's marriage to Vance Bradford, his first love returned to the country. That night, she caught him in the bathroom, murmuring Catherine's name as he pleasured himself. That was why, for five years, he had never touched her. "Catherine is back; she's all alone. I'm just helping her as a friend." "I understand." "I promised her I'd accompany her to the island for her birthday. I'm just fulfilling it." "Okay." "This banquet requires a capable companion, and Catherine is more suitable than you." "Okay, go ahead." When she stopped getting angry, stopped shedding tears, and stopped making a fuss, he grew puzzled. "Rebecca, why aren't you angry?" Of course, she wasn't angry anymore—because she was preparing to leave. Weary of this stagnant marriage, she had secretly learned a foreign language, taken the proficiency exam, and applied to study abroad. The day her visa was approved, she presented him with the divorce agreement. Vance froze. "No joke. How are you gonna survive without me?" Rebecca turned away, bought a plane ticket, and flew to the European continent, vanishing without a trace. The next time he saw news of her was in a viral video. Dressed in a flowing red gown, she danced against a foreign sky, igniting the internet with her performance. He gritted his teeth. "Rebecca, no matter where you hide, I will find you and bring you back!"

On our first wedding anniversary he told me he want a divorce. I froze, thinking it was a joke. It wasn’t. The man I loved since I was a kid handed me papers, cold and final, like everything we shared meant nothing. I signed. I left. Packed my life into a suitcase and vanished to another state, trying to escape the pain. But leaving didn’t stop the obsession. He’s out of his mind, searching for me, desperate to know where I am. And it’s not just him my so called best friend has been wanting him all along, smiling while she watched our love crumble, while his best friend wants me, whispers lies, and manipulates the truth to make sure he never finds me. I thought leaving would save me. I thought I could forget. But love doesn’t let go that easy. And some mistakes are too dangerous to forgive. He Divorced Me on Our Anniversary is a dark, emotional billionaire romance about betrayal, obsession, and fighting to survive when everyone you trusted is trying to take the one thing you can’t lose your heart.

They are happily married. She loves him , he doesn't love her but she is the most important person for him in the whole world. They are happy and content in their life , but he is holding a secret that will destroy their happy life. What will happen when the truth will come out. Willl she stays or leaves him .Read to know

"I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I know I’ve hurt you in the cruelest way. But I regret it, truly regret it. I've spent five years searching for you, hoping to atone for my mistakes. I... I still love you." My heart raced. Part of me wanted to believe him, wanted to surrender to the words I had longed for. But I couldn’t just forget how he had shattered me. "Love?" I let out a small laugh. "You’re talking about love after what you did to me? After you made me feel like nothing more than a replacement? I’ve moved past the days when I cried over you, when I questioned my self-worth just because you chose another woman. You want me back? But what if one day you find another reason to leave me?" "No!"

It's our fifth wedding anniversary. I've booked a table at a riverside restaurant and set my pregnancy test report right in the center of the table. 9:00 pm comes and goes with no sign of my husband, Yosef Sinclair. Just as I reach for my phone, the cake delivery person texts to ask for my location. I send it over, then call Yosef. A ringtone chimes right behind me. I turn around and see Yosef walking in, looking sharp in his suit. I'm about to nag him for being late until I see him holding a cake box and answering his phone. "I'm working. I'll—" Before he finishes speaking, he visibly pauses, then asks in a low voice, "You ordered this? Meeting friends? Just don't stay out too late." He sets the cake down right on top of my test report and turns on his heel. All that I'm left with is the sight of his retreating figure. A moment later, his voice floats back in from outside. "Nobody. Come on. Let's just finish this last order, and I'll treat you to a nice dinner today!" I look out the window. Yosef is getting into a car with Clara Lawson, the bakery owner. She slips into the passenger seat like she's done it a thousand times. A minute later, my phone vibrates. I tap it open with my numb fingers. It's a new Instagram post from Clara, showing a pink rose bouquet with a sliver of a black suit in the background. The caption reads, "A guy who buys me flowers, works overtime with me, and takes me out for dinner? He's a keeper!" I like the post, put my phone down, and quietly tell the waiter to bring out the food. I've spent three months trying to snag a table at this place. No way am I letting good food go to waste. Besides, I'm leaving this city in three days and putting an end to this broken marriage.

Three years ago, on the day I married Luca Moretti, he personally handed me a marriage contract with a fixed term of three years. His tone was casual, indifferent, as if he were discussing an ordinary business deal. "This marriage exists solely to serve the alliance of interests between the Morettis and the Vitales. Sign this agreement. After three years, the marriage will automatically dissolve. When that time comes, you can go and pursue your true love." I barely hesitated before signing. Ten years earlier, at an inter-family business gala, when I was ten and Luca was sixteen, I had already fallen hopelessly in love with him. What looked like a strategic alliance was, in truth, the outcome of my decade-long unrequited love. During the three years of our marriage, Luca was attentive and gentle toward me. Over time, I began to believe I was loved. I sank into that illusion, unable to pull myself out, forgetting entirely about the agreement. That illusion was shattered completely on the night of our third wedding anniversary. That evening, Luca arrived with Elena, who had just returned to New York, and attended what was supposed to be our third anniversary celebration together. She stood beside him with ease and composure, smoothly engaging with business partners. People praised her, saying she looked more like the Donna of the Moretti family. In that moment, even though Luca never mentioned the agreement again, I understood clearly that it was time for me to step aside. After breaking free from his control, crossing an ocean to rebuild myself, and becoming a brilliant leader in my industry, I would no longer wait for his love.