How To Plan A Trip For Five Years Of Marriage?

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!"

The cocktail hour had just ended when I picked up a video call in the bridal suite. It was Ethan, three years from now. By then, time‑travel tech had matured enough to let him contact me three years into the past. After enough specific details, I finally believed it. The man on the screen really was Ethan, three years older. I rubbed my aching ankle and pouted at him through the screen. "Ethan, smiling at all these guests is exhausting. But the second I remember I actually married you today, I'm happy all over again." "We're still happy three years from now, right?" He was leaning back against a headboard, and he didn't answer. His face was flat and unreadable. Then I heard it: a woman's voice from his end, low and breathy, asking to be kissed. I froze for a second, then covered my mouth and laughed. "Is that future me? In broad daylight? Get a room." Ethan turned the camera into the bed. My maid of honor was lying there, naked, sprawled across his chest. Her body was covered in hickeys. He looked straight at me as I started to break, and his voice didn't shift at all. "As soon as the reception ended, I told you I had a client meeting. I went to her room instead." "Jo, now you know what's coming. The guests haven't gone home yet. If you want a divorce tonight, you can have one. Up to you."

The fifth anniversary of my marriage to my wife, Roxanne Clark, coincides with the National Day. We agree to spend the holiday together at the Ermane Sea. But on the morning of our departure, Roxanne hurriedly packs her luggage and informs me, "Something came up at work. I have to go on a business trip." I believe her. But later that night, I see a post from her first love, Conrad Jensen. In the photo, the two of them are standing close together with their fingers intertwined. Their matching couple bracelets are impossible to miss. I smile bitterly. In the end, she did go to the Ermane Sea, but not with the person she promised. I do not call to confront her. Instead, I calmly gave the post a "Like". One minute later, Roxanne calls me frantically and explains, "This is all a misunderstanding. We just happened to run into each other during the business trip. I'll definitely make it up to you on the next National Day." I chuckle dismissively and say, "It's fine. Have a great time." Roxanne looks extremely shocked as she asks, "Why aren't you jealous this time?"

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.

After my husband, Samson Ferrell, receives his year-end bonus, he takes his godsister, Maya Taylors, on a three-month overseas trip. Meanwhile, I'm forced to continue working while taking care of our children on my own. In the middle of the night, when my children catch fevers simultaneously, I have to console my younger daughter with soothing words while wiping my oldest daughters down with a damp towel. My phone doesn't stop buzzing the whole time. From time to time, I receive pictures of Samson and Maya in swimwear while lounging under the Moldave sun. Sometimes, I see photos of them skiing happily in Chwiss. Honestly speaking, if Samson is just a friend of mine, I'll find myself admiring his relaxed and casual lifestyle. Unfortunately, he is my legal husband. My phone screen lights up again. This time, it's a racy picture sent by Maya. "Hey, I heard that you're taking care of the children at home. Well then, I shall take good care of Samson." After saving all of the photos and purchase history, I book an appointment with a divorce attorney. The day of Samson's return to the country will be the day he receives a lawsuit to recover marital assets.

A beautiful journey of a boy and a girl in a relationship of lifetime called “Marriage “. A story of how they meet, fall in love and get married.