1945 Pulitzer Winning

On the day Tristan Spallone, the head of a mafia family, and I mark our fifth wedding anniversary, the manager of the Spallone family vault calls. Something that was stored away for a long time has finally come due, and Tristan is to retrieve it. He's so busy that he barely has a moment to breathe, so I go in his place. What I bring back is an old roll of film. The manager warned me that if it wasn’t developed soon, its age might cause it to be ruined beyond recovery. But when I have them developed, frame after frame is filled with Winnie Leigh, his first love. Her smile looks so sweet in those pictures that they nearly suffocate me. What about me, one may ask? I never once appeared on his albums. The office door slams open. Tristan bursts in, already out of breath. "Anna, is your life really so empty that you have to dig through mine?" I turn toward him, the man who's usually so composed. I neither question him nor break down. Instead, I speak slowly. "We're getting a divorce." Tristan frowns and thrusts the stack of photos into the shredder. He then looks back at me. "They're gone. Do you still want a divorce?" A bitter smile tugs at my lips. "Yes."

In our five years of marriage, my husband, Derrick Wickham, bails on me 99 times for his childhood sweetheart, Jessica Harson. This time, after he stands me up, I find two plane tickets to Frantines in his office. "I was planning to surprise you for our anniversary. Since you've already seen them, we'll just meet at the airport," he says icily. I eagerly pack and get myself ready, arriving early at the airport. I wait from the wee hours of dawn till the late hours of night, but Derrick fails to show up. Then, I see a post on Jessica's social media. "It's my birthday today. Though he doesn't have the time to go on a trip with me to Frantines, I forgive him because he brought me to the amusement park instead!" In the past, I'd have called him, crying and demanding answers. But this time, I'm truly done.

Mindy Horton and I got married on Thanksgiving. Coincidentally, her assistant went abroad to further his studies that day. I did not pay much attention to it until the eve of another Thanksgiving three years later. I was browsing TikTok and came across Mindy, who was in a street interview about couples. The reporter stopped her and asked, "Excuse me. Could I have a second of your time? Who would you like to spend today with?" Mindy paused for a moment. She struggled to answer after a long while, "With my lover." "Call him now. He should know how you feel!" I smiled as I sat up, ready to pick up Mindy's call. However, when I looked up, I saw Mindy sobbing to another man on the screen. "I know you've returned, and I still can't forget you after all these years. Do you know how much I regret not marrying you and marrying another man? We missed our chance with each other three years ago. Let's spend Thanksgiving together this year!" I sat in bed all night and booked a flight out of the country the next morning. "When are you leaving?" my assistant asked. I replied, "On Thanksgiving."

That night, I got off work early and brought home some late-night snacks. When I opened the door, I saw a pair of high heels carelessly tossed in the entryway and Gregory’s blazer thrown over the couch. His heavy breathing and the woman’s moans could be heard through the gap between the door and its frame. I was all too familiar with this sight. This time, I did not storm out like I used to. Instead, I sat quietly at the dining table and finished my cold pizza.

Jasper Cole’s first love accused me of kidnapping her on my anniversary with him. I was mute—I couldn’t even defend myself. He held his "damsel in distress" and demanded I donate my blood to her. "If you still want next month’s tuition and living expenses, you’d better cooperate," he threatened. I obeyed in silence. Later, I met a police officer and ran away with him. Jasper lost his mind.

The wedding had barely started when the lights went out. Then came the moans—from the giant screen behind the altar. Hailey froze. Her skin went ghost-pale. Her whole body shook. A beat later, the doors slammed open. Leading the charge? Nolan. Cold eyes, sharp suit, and bodyguards in tow. He stormed the stage. The groom tried to stop him. Big mistake. Nolan's guys dropped him in seconds. Nolan grabbed a fistful of the groom's hair and yanked his head back. "Heh. I've slept with Hailey hundreds—maybe thousands—of times. Used condoms alone could fill your house. Wanna see the HD vids?" Hailey's eyes locked on Nolan, pure hate. She'd been his kept woman for eight years. He loathed her family. He loathed her. Swore she'd never know peace. Then she disappeared—and he lost his mind.

I was with Marco, the New York Mafia heir, for seven years. He never told his family about me. But when I walked in on a wedding rehearsal and saw the groom embracing the bride-to-be. It was Marco! "Her fiancé's held up in Italy. I'm just a stand-in," he told me, but his eyes never left her. "You're the best wedding planner in New York. This wedding has to be flawless." But I saw something in his eyes I'd never seen before. A possessiveness that bordered on resentment. Isabella, the bride, hated every idea I had for her. In the end, Marco told me to give her the wedding I'd spent five years designing for myself. "Our wedding can wait. I'll give you something bigger, I promise. It's just a plan, Sophia. It's what you do. Giving it to a client should be easy, right?" He didn't know. It wasn't just a plan. It was my dying wish. In the end, I gave him what he wanted, quietly preparing to die. Later, he went mad, kidnapping the world’s best doctors—risking a global manhunt—all to save me.

On the day of my birthday party, I wait for my boyfriend to arrive so we can start the celebrations. To my surprise, all I get is a challenge from his true love. "I'm sorry that Harv can't be with you today, Sammy. He's getting engaged to me! Don't worry, though. It's just a formality—this is the 100th wish he's helping me fulfill. I hope you don't mind!" Tiana Lowe sends me a video along with that voice message. My boyfriend exchanges rings with her before kissing her passionately. I immediately call him and snap, "What the hell do you mean by that, Harvey Linton?" He gets angry. "Can you stop being so jealous all the time? I can celebrate your birthday with you every year, but Tiana only has 100 wishes. I have to help her fulfill them!" I snap, "Fine, then. I wish you two will be together forever!"

Before the wedding, my fiancé, Alpha Jay, stood in front of me. Hesitation flickered in his eyes, but so did hope. “Can you give me a month?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. A month. Time to see if he could patch things up with Linda Manwaring—his ex-girlfriend. His fated mate. “If it works out,” he continued, the words deliberate, like he was convincing himself as much as me, “then it’s the Moon Goddess’s blessing. But if it doesn’t… I’ll come back. I’ll marry you. And I’ll leave her behind—forever.” He meant it. He truly believed this was the honorable thing to do. I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry. Instead, I let a small, knowing smile tug at my lips. “Go ahead,” I said, my voice calm and steady. “Give it a try. Life’s too short for regrets, right?” Relief broke over his face like a wave, as though I’d just untangled him from a chain he hadn’t known how to break. That night, he drove off, lighter than I’d seen him in months. Meanwhile, I packed my bags in silence. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Once I was done, I picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. “Mom,” I said, my voice even and unwavering. “The wedding’s off. I’m coming home to help you handle the Shadowfang Pack.”

After five years of marriage, I received a wedding invitation from abroad. The groom is my husband, Arnold Willowstream. The bride is my younger sister, Yasmine Cooper. In disbelief, I decide to fly to Ainland and witness the wedding for myself. But the moment I see Arnold holding Yasmine and kissing her deeply, my heart shatters completely. Fireworks explode in the sky, and glowing words appear above—"Happy Marriage, Mr. Willowstream and Ms. Yasmine." In that instant, it feels like a blade piercing straight through my chest. Watching them look so happy together, I feel like I'm the one intruding on someone else's marriage. Love is a game for two—there's no room for a third. If he's already gotten married to someone else, what place do I have left in his life? Rather than waiting to be pushed out, I choose to walk away on my own and at least keep the last shred of dignity.