Her Open Betrayal

Summary

On our seventh anniversary, police called. A couple claimed my company's product poisoned their child. At the station, I saw Tristan—her ex—filing the report, with Vivienne, my wife, beside him as his "wife." She looked at me coldly, stating, "We have a three-year-old. That's how it is." We'd reconciled four years ago. I pulled out the divorce papers I tore up back then, now reprinted, and said, "Let her be with him openly."

I thought back four years, after three years of marriage. To protect Tristan, she falsely reported me ten times. Each release led to fights that put me in the hospital—eleven times total. Then, on a Middle East trip, our hotel was hit. She shielded me from debris; I shielded her from bullets. In hospital beds, holding hands, she tearfully promised to send him away for good. I tore up the divorce papers, saying we'd try one last time. She erased him completely, even tattooed my name over her heart, vowing I'd never regret it. Now, it all felt like a sick joke.