Eight Years of Passion Can’t Compete with First Love

On the day of our eighth anniversary, I reached into the inner pocket of Sam's coat, only to find a piece of lingerie that wasn’t mine.

When I showed it to him, his response was cold and dismissive.

“I accidentally bought the wrong size for you. I knew you'd get suspicious, should’ve thrown it away.” He defended himself

I stood there, silent, letting his words cut through me. Without saying anything, I walked over to the perfectly prepared anniversary dinner and threw it all in the trash.

Later that night, I checked my phone and there it was—her post. The one who had always been in the background, his perfect first love from abroad. In the photo, a man’s hand gently massaged her and on his rough ring finger was the wedding band that matched mine.

Her caption stung as much as the image itself: "No matter how far away I am, my Superman always comes for me."

I smiled faintly to myself, though the bitterness inside churned like a storm. I picked up an old business card and dialed the number of my ex.

"Are you still looking for people? I’m ready to leave... anytime."

——

His voice was soft, almost soothing. “I’ve been waiting for you, Mia.”

I didn’t respond. My heart twisted with the weight of my past choices. Years ago, after Sam helped me out of a tough situation, he had a falling out with my ex, Tom. Eight years had passed and here I was, crawling back, feeling like a clown. But I had nothing left to hold onto. Sam had drained the last bit of love from me.

After hanging up, I stood up and began the process of applying for my passport. I was ready to leave. Sam called me minutes later, his voice laced with impatience. He didn’t care why I was upset. He just barked orders.

“It’s just a social media post, Mia. What’s your problem now? Are you looking for trouble?”

I stayed silent, my pen scribbling as I filled out the passport forms. Sensing something off, he asked, “Where are you? You’re not home?”

I casually lied. “Getting the car inspected.”

“Oh good. I’m headed over to get a license plate for Wo’s car. Help me get in line before I get there.”

I opened my mouth to refuse, but he hung up before I could say a word. As always, he didn’t care about what I had to say—only his own agenda mattered. I sighed quietly, humbling myself one last time before walking out the door, off to run an errand for her, like the loyal dog he expected me to be.

As I stood at the registration, I saw the number on the plate: 795254. The string of numbers hit me hard. It was the same combination Tom used as his password for years. I’d asked him about it once, but he’d always brushed me off, growing frustrated when I pushed.

“It’s just a random string of numbers, Mia. Why do you care so much? It doesn’t mean anything. Either you trust me, or you don’t.”

At the time, his anger scared me. He even made me change all my passwords to match his to show "trust." I hadn’t questioned it—until now.

I stared at the number on the plate and punched it into my phone’s keypad. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. It spelled out "Tom loves Jane."

I had been living in denial, believing that maybe Tom’s anger stemmed from a breakup with someone the year before. But now, I understood: I had never been the one in his heart. Not from the very beginning. I had no reason to stay. I handed my passport application to the clerk and when Tom called to say he would personally come to pick me up, I hesitated for a moment.

“You’re a woman, Mia. You can’t just travel alone—it’s too dangerous,” he said. “And besides... I want to see for myself how far your Superman has fallen.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I fought back the lump in my throat. I forced myself to think back to the darkest moment of my life—when I lost our baby.

I had been pregnant and bleeding, needing to get to the hospital. But Sam had gotten a call from Jane and without a second thought, he left me.

As he pushed me out of the car, I had fallen into the mud, helpless and crying. But all he said was, “It’s just one intersection to the hospital, you can walk. Jane’s terrified of thunderstorms overseas and I need to get to her right away.”

"You’ll be fine. If you bleed out... well, that’s on you.”

I had watched the taillights of his car disappear in the rain, my heart shattering as I crawled to the hospital, but it was too late. The doctor told me that if I had arrived five minutes earlier, I might have saved my child.

Sam wasn’t willing to give me those five minutes. When he came back, he had coldly tossed aside the baby clothes I had prepared and looked at me with disgust. “What a waste.”

The memory cut deep, but I had no more tears left to cry. I whispered a thank you to Tom before hanging up the phone. That’s when I felt it—the familiar touch of Sam’s hand behind me.

“Who were you talking to on the phone?”