He Didn’t Love Me But Nail I Left

Seven years married to Adrian Locke. For me, he tore the unbreakable scale from his own body and left the deep sea for dry land. For him, I left everything and moved to the beastkin world. To everyone else we were the most loving couple. Even I believed it. Then he started coming home carrying a fox scent that wouldn't wash off, and every illusion I had about him shattered. The late nights came more often. The nights he didn't come home at all came more often. I knew it was time for us to end. And then that woman sent me the results of her pregnancy test. I filed to dissolve our marriage with the Beastkin Authority and bought a one-way ticket back to the human world. Adrian, if you can't promise me your love is mine alone, then I won't take any of it. From now on, we never see each other again.

I died in the year my husband hated me most. Unable to endure his endless silent treatment any longer, I swallowed a bottle of pills and ended my life. At the crematorium, watching the flames roar inside the furnace, he allowed himself a rare smile. “Someone as vile as her doesn’t deserve to be laid to rest whole.” So when the staff handed him the urn, he flipped it over. My ashes scattered across the floor in an instant. All this time, he had believed I was responsible for the death of his first love. That belief was why he had schemed and plotted for years, all for this precise moment of final desecration. When it was over, he stepped over my ashes and walked away without looking back. Though not long after that, he fell to his knees and begged the crematorium to give my ashes back to him.

a heavy burden that I carried for nine long years. It was hard to admit to myself that Carlos Sky never really loved me, despite all the efforts I made to win him over. I even tried to use the divorce and the company he owned, Sky Corporation, as a way to bargain for him to give me attention and love. But he remained indifferent, insensitive to my feelings and my desperate attempts to win him over. It was a moment of great sadness and disappointment when I realized that he never cared about me in the same way that I cared about him. After the divorce, I had time to reflect on what happened and finally realized that the so-called "love" I felt for Carlos Sky was one-sided. I had deluded myself for years, believing that he loved me, when in reality he never showed this feeling for me. The hardest thing was to admit to myself that I loved someone who never loved me back. It was painful to face the reality that all the time, effort, and energy I put into this relationship was for nothing. Learning to let go of this unrequited love and move on with my life was a difficult journey, but necessary for my own emotional health and well-being. Today, I look back with a mixture of sadness and relief. It was a difficult experience, but I also learned a lot about myself and the true meaning of love. I learned that true love is mutual, it involves reciprocity and respect. It is not something that can be forced or won through negotiations.

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.

I'd lost count of how many times Ethan had turned me down when I asked to stay the night at his place. "Ethan, you're no fun at all." I grumbled. The day before, I'd noticed someone had left a mark by my front door, the kind that flags a woman living alone. It scared me, so I went to Ethan and asked if I could crash at his place for a few days. He said no. "I'll book you a hotel room for tonight." When he saw I was upset, he softened. "I just don't want to give up my own space this soon." "Give me a little time to get used to the idea, okay?" Three years together, and no matter how late our dates ran, he always drove me home. He never once asked me to stay. I wasn't happy about it, but I nodded and let it go. It wasn't that late yet, so I suggested we catch the new movie that had just come out. Ethan checked the time instead and hurried me off to the hotel, a little on edge. Alone in the room, I happened to scroll past the social media of a new coworker. "AC's broken at my place. Thank God I've got someone to run to, or I'd melt." The photo behind the caption showed the TV wall in Ethan's living room. My stomach dropped. I stared at the picture for a long time. By the time I came back to myself, my face was wet with tears. Then I slid off the engagement ring Ethan had given me. A love with something rotten stirred into it wasn't a love I wanted anymore.

After my parents dead, I was taken in by one of his closest friends—the Draycotts. Kaelen Draycott, their only son, treated me like I was family. And I, stupidly, fell for him. When I confessed, he called me sick. Evil. Disgusting. From that day on, he made my life hell. He brought women home, loud enough for me to hear everything. Just to remind me where I stood. When it came down to it, he saved his fiancée. Left me to be shot, mocked, and forgotten. I knew what he was capable of. So this time, I made the choice. I’m leaving. And knowing how much he hates me— Let my farewell be the best wedding gift he’ll ever get.