A wave of heartbreak washes over me as I witness George's instinctive protection and unwavering focus on Megan. The depth of his care and affection for her becomes painfully apparent, highlighting the place she holds in his heart. It is an undeniable truth that leaves me feeling shattered and insignificant in comparison."What are you doing there?" Grandma's loud voice cut through the air. "Can’t you see your wife is in trouble? Why aren’t you helping her?"His defensive stance wavers momentarily as if Grandma's words caught him off guard. A flicker of remorse flashes across his features when his eyes landed on me.The sudden change in the atmosphere prompts the curiosity of the guests nearby, who quickly turn their attention to me. Their surprise is evident in their widened eyes and hushed whispers. At that moment, my identity as George's wife, long hidden from public knowledge, is laid bare before them.I sneer inwardly. No one knew that I was George’s wife when I was married to him
I hastily take off the wet clothes and place them in the laundry basket. I stand under the shower, the warm water calming my mind. But then I suddenly realize that I haven't brought fresh clothes with me.A tinge of panic courses through me as I contemplate my next move. It is then that I recall George's words and his promise to be there if I needed anything. Curiosity and a flicker of hope guide my actions as I decide to reach out to him.With a determined resolve, I turn off the shower and make my way toward the door, water droplets cascading down my body. Nervously, I push it open, revealing the room beyond. My eyes scan the space, searching for any sign of George's presence.I realize he is standing outside the room, my gaze moving to the door."George?" I call out his name, my voice laced with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.And then, as if conjured by my plea, he enters the room, silently responding to my summons.My breath catches in my throat as I take in the sight befo
Vivian’s POV…Even though he told me not to come to the hospital, I still came. I love Grandma and am worried about her. No one can stop me from being with her, at least not at this moment when she is not well.Even though George didn’t love me, his family members never treated me badly. They always loved me as their daughter.I cannot walk away when they are in trouble. I stood away from them, but I could see all the activities in front of the emergency room.I see a doctor emerge from the room and talk to George and his parents. I want to go there and ask about Grandma, but I remain standing here, fearing George will get mad at me.Then I see them going away with the doctor.I don’t know what is happening, and I start pacing nervously.After some time, George appears suddenly."Grandma wants to see you," he says, his tone low and serious.I hurry into the ward and find Grandma lying on the bed. Her condition is not as bad as I imagined. I am relieved and walk over to her."Grandma…"
The next day…I am staring at the notification on my phone. The screen displays a significant sum of money credited to my account, and I instantly recognize it as the alimony transfer from George.Mixed emotions wash over me as I contemplate this unexpected development. On one hand, the monetary support offers a sense of security in this new Chapter of my life. It provides a cushion that allows me to focus on rebuilding and finding my own path. Yet, on the other hand, accepting this money feels like a reminder of the broken promises and shattered dreams that accompanied my marriage.With a sigh, I set the phone aside, my heart heavy. Returning the money is not an option I am willing to entertain. As I reflect on my current situation, realization dawns upon me.I am jobless, without a steady source of income. While I am a qualified fashion designer, my career path has taken a different turn.I don’t work for any firm, despite the fact that I was a topper in fashion design in college. I
I am shocked and terrified, thinking about who is trying to violate me. The smell of alcohol and the sudden attack makes me dizzy. I try to look at the man who is pressing me.It is George.My fear lifts, and irritation grips my heart. I push him away hard and slap him.The impact of the slap hangs in the air, a sharp crack echoing in the room.He steps back a little and looks at me, seemingly shocked. His presence looms over me, his disheveled appearance and the pungent smell of alcohol emanating from him adding to my growing sense of discomfort.I can see the glint of aggression in his eyes; his intentions are veering into dangerous territory."I am not Megan!" I exclaim. "You can’t come into my house without an invitation and try to harass me sexually. I will call the police."My trembling body bears witness to the rush of adrenaline coursing through me, heightening my senses.George's sneer twists his face into a mask of anger and bitterness. He lashes out, attempting to twist my
Vivian’s POV…I sink into the sofa, feeling the frustration and disbelief coursing through my veins. My gaze remains fixated on the closed bedroom door, where George has seemingly barricaded himself. The audacity of his actions leaves me dumbfounded and bewildered.‘Why is he doing this? Why is he here instead of being with Megan?’ I can’t help but wonder.Ding-Dong…The sound of the doorbell shatters the tense silence, jolting me out of my thoughts.I hasten to answer the door, half expecting to see Michael standing there. He might be worried. But my expectations are dashed as I come face to face with Megan, her eyes blazing with anger."You… Why are you so shameless?" She starts accusing me, her voice filled with venom. "How dare you seduce George even after the divorce? Are you not ashamed of yourself?"I furrow my brows, taken aback by her aggressive stance. "Excuse me… Stop accusing me when you know nothing," I retort, my voice laced with frustration. She deliberately angers me.
With determination coursing through my veins, I wipe away the lingering tears and retrieve a familiar folder containing my design drawings. As I flip it open, memories of my aspirations and dreams flood back to me.My main focus was on the design of the bridal gown. I had planned to design my own wedding gown at the time. But I never got the chance.George offered a contract marriage to me, and I quickly signed it. The wedding never happened.When I look at the design drafts, my eyes well up with tears once more. Among the neatly organized pages, my attention is drawn to a particular design, one that holds significant meaning.It is the very design that earned me the championship in a prestigious design competition during my university days. A photograph of myself with the trophy in my hands, adorned with a proud smile, is affixed to the corner of the drawing.For a fleeting moment, I allow myself a small smile, reminiscing about the confidence and hope that once radiated from within
George’s POV…As soon as I enter my office, my attentive secretary approaches me. With a composed demeanor, she informs me that Megan has been waiting for me.I squint a little at her and ask, "When did she come?""An hour ago."I nod and sit down in my chair. I know her visit is not solely driven by personal reasons but rather by a professional aspiration to become the brand ambassador for our company's clothing line.Megan is a model, and she looks stunning. I have no objections to her becoming the brand ambassador. But I haven't responded to her yet.The company can find other models, but the management wants to know my thoughts first since Megan is my girlfriend before making any decision.The secretary then narrated to me about the new product line, the wedding dress market. This is an area our company has never tried before."A famous design company has already approached us and expressed their desire to collaborate with us," she says.My curiosity is piqued. I think it is worth