Homewrecker

On my 16th birthday, I treat myself to the most delicious cake I can find. On that day, before I can even take a bite, my parents, who are always at odds with each other, sign their divorce papers right in front of me. So, on my wedding day, I tell my wife, Keira Jarrett, "If you ever want a divorce, just get me a birthday cake." She hugs me tightly and promises me."Don't worry. 'Birthday' won't even be a word in our home anymore." Seven years later, on Keira's birthday, her assistant, Jackson Price, throws her a surprise party. She slaps him across his handsome, gentle face and kicks him out of Jarrett Group. That day, I am convinced I have chosen the right woman for life. But three months later, on my birthday, I find out the supposedly fired Jackson has been promoted to Keira's personal secretary. He personally delivers a custom-made birthday cake to me. I call Keira to demand an explanation, but her voice on the other end is cold and distant. "Jack meant well. Don't be a spoilsport." I freeze for a moment, then hang up. It turns out my parents are right all along. The only way a birthday cake tastes right is when it's served with divorce papers.

When I had just received an offer from a French ballet company, my right leg was amputated due to a car accident. My fiance could not accept my disability, so he married my competitor, Gabriella Smith. I was about to have a meltdown when my childhood best friend, Joe Anderson, carpeted my hospital room with roses and proposed to me with a diamond ring. Throughout our five years of marriage, he treated me extremely well and loved me as he did the very first day we married. I thought that he was a gift from God to compensate for my tragedy until I accidentally overheard his conversation with his friend. “Joe, I heard that Gabriella is the principal dancer of the top ballet company in Paris. If only you hadn’t turned Fiona into a cripple for her... Do you feel guilty?” “I feel guilty about it, that’s why I married her and treated her well. I’ll repay her with my life.” I grabbed the armrests of my wheelchair as I held back my sobs. The happy marriage that I thought I had was just a lie. The husband whom I thought loved me was the culprit behind my plight. He only loved Gabriella. If that were the case, I would give my blessings for them to be together!

My wife, who had always despised lugging around keys, ditched our modern smart lock for a clunky old-school key version. She even bolted it shut during showers. Every time I returned from work, I'd have to ring her up first. Fed up, I slapped the divorce agreement on the table during a family get-together. Everyone assumed I was drunk and joking. My wife hauled off and cracked me across the face. "Am I asking too much? You promised you'd indulge me forever." I met her glare with icy indifference and let out a bitter scoff. "Aren't I divorcing you and never returning the ultimate indulgence?"

I'm on my way to get married when a truck slams into my car from behind. After being unconscious for a long time, I hear the doctor telling my fiancee that I might lose my memory. I decide to have a little fun and open my eyes, pretending to be confused. "Who are you?" My fiancee goes completely still. I'm about to admit I'm only teasing her, but before I can, she grabs my best man's hand without a second thought. "I'm Janice Lloyd, your best friend's fiancee. You got into a car accident on your way to our wedding."

At the company's celebration dinner, the new HR guy slapped a bill on the table—$860 for A/C and venue costs from our last all-nighter. I shot a look at Sherry—my girlfriend, my boss—thinking she'd have my back. Nope. She latched onto HR's arm and said, "Quentin, this isn't your daddy's company. Quit freeloading." And just like that, nine years of busting my ass for this company, and turns out—I was the discount item on the menu.

On Valentine’s Day, someone stabbed my mother-in-law twenty times until she died. So, I took the murderer to court. My wife was a renowned lawyer, but she decided to defend him. I confronted her in anger, but she casually replied, “Derek’s younger brother is still a college student. Can’t you be a little more forgiving? “I’ll bring Derek and his younger brother along to visit your mother’s grave. Drop the charges. Don’t let this go to trial and embarrass me when you lose the case.” Looking at the mangled corpse full of stabbing wounds, I could not help but let out a bark of laughter. It looked like she was still unaware that the corpse was actually her own mother.

When I woke up that morning and happened to glance at the mirror, a scream tore from my throat before I could stop it. Because on the face I had always taken such pride in, there was now a jagged, horrifying scar. As terror gripped me, a cool, detached female voice cut through the air beside me. "What are you shrieking about so early in the morning? Scared by your own ugly face?" I looked up in shock and realized the voice belonged to my girlfriend, Alicia. Only—she wasn't the same girl from yesterday. Gone was the youthful innocence I remembered. In its place, every movement, every glance radiated the allure of a mature woman. The words slipped out before I could hold them back. "Babe… you're gorgeous…" But Alicia's brows knit together, her gaze colder than ice. "Kurt, drop the act!" Act? I was at a loss. Why would she accuse me of pretending? "Don't call me the way you used to five years ago. It's disgusting." Five years ago? But… I'm still twenty-three… am I not?

Fresh out of the National Research Institute, I loaded up on my wife's favorite snacks and ordered a vibrant bouquet of roses, eager to surprise her. I stashed the treats in her office, then stepped out to grab the flowers. But in those fleeting minutes, a stranger had ripped open every package and devoured everything. I glared at him. "Who gave you permission to touch those?" He shot me a look of pure disdain. "Buzz off, flower boy. Drop your crap and scram!" The secretary at the door snickered. "You heard the man. He's Ms. Bowman's husband. Better run before he leaves a bad review." I pulled out my phone and called my wife. "Who is this guy in your office?"

On our wedding day, my fiancée humiliated me in front of everyone. She postponed the ceremony, not for an emergency, but to throw a lavish wedding for her childhood friend's pet hamster. Dressed in my tailored suit, I got shoved off the stage and was laughed at by everyone. My mom couldn't take the humiliation. Her heart gave out, and no ambulance could save her. Days after we buried her, my fiancée reappeared, demanding that I donate a kidney to that friend. The surgery nearly killed me, leaving me broken and betrayed. It prompted me to end things with her. She spiraled into regret, tormenting herself to win me back.

A week before our wedding, my fiancee announces that she is pregnant using my younger brother's frozen sperm. "I'm grateful that our love can carry on in another way," she gushes on social media, showing off the test results. My brother replies, "Meeting you was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me." Then Mom chimes in. "Jenny, you've been through so much. Nathan's apartment should be under your name alone." I don't argue and simply reply with a single word—"Congratulations". My phone rings almost seconds later. "Your brother can't have kids anymore. It's just one child, and it's still related to you. Why are you being so petty?" she snaps. I laugh under my breath, hang up, and dial another number. "Want to get married?"