He Married Her, I Divorced Him

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband couldn’t come home because of a hurricane. I decided to fly over and surprise him.

While waiting in the airport lounge, I accidentally came across a wedding post from my widowed sister-in-law.

She was beaming in the photo, though the groom’s face was blurred.

The caption read: “My late husband’s brother insisted on holding this grand wedding. He even had roses flown in. If my husband sees this from heaven, he’ll finally be at peace!”

Just as I was about to scroll away, a pair of cufflinks caught my eye—identical to my husband’s.

I quickly took a screenshot and sent it to my assistant. At that moment, Ryan Walker called.

“Happy seventh anniversary, honey. I’ll love you forever.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, trying to find an excuse in my mind to deceive myself. Then the assistant sent over high-resolution photos: my husband and Sarah Lee were having a wedding.

“Ms. Walker, are you still going to Miami to meet Mr. Walker?”

My eyes instantly burned with tears, and a dull pain gripped my abdomen.

I replied, “No. Book me an appointment for an abortion.”

…

“Sorry, honey. The company was too busy that day, I couldn’t spend our anniversary with you. I’ve been drowning in guilt.”

“I rushed back as fast as I could to at least be here for your birthday today. You must forgive me.”

He had just married Sarah, yet here he was carrying a cake home to celebrate his wife’s birthday.

Ryan’s heart was big enough to fit two people.

Before I could answer, he shifted aside, revealing the person behind him.

Sarah Lee walked in smiling, carrying two bottles of beer.

“Sorry, sis, I forgot it was your birthday and didn’t have time to prepare a gift. I only managed to buy some beer. You’re not mad, right?”

The bottles matched perfectly with the ones in their wedding photos. They wanted me to use my birthday to celebrate their marriage.

I coldly refused. “I don’t drink.”

Sarah chuckled, patting me on the shoulder.

“Come on, it’s your birthday. How can you not drink at least one? If you don’t know how, I’ll teach you!”

The two of them walked in as if nothing had happened, their bodies reeking of alcohol, filling the entire room.

How thoughtful—fresh from their wedding, drunk, yet still showing up here pretending nothing had occurred.

The cake was opened—smashed, messy, with two ridiculous candles sticking out of it.

Ryan glanced at Sarah, pretending to defend himself.

“I accidentally broke the cake, honey. You’ve had plenty of birthdays, one less won’t matter. Next year I’ll get you a perfect one.”

Sarah’s hand brushed against his waist, and the tremor in his body told me exactly how that cake had gotten ruined.

A wave of nausea surged through me.

Just as I was about to slap them both, Sarah suddenly lifted a glass of beer and toasted me.

“Since it’s your birthday, sis, I’ll drink three glasses to you.”

“The first, to you—who cursed my husband to death the moment you joined the Walker family. But I don’t blame you. He simply didn’t have the luck to live longer and see more of this world.”

“The second, to you—for being so generous and skilled in training! Without your blessing, Ryan wouldn’t be taking such meticulous care of me, his poor widowed sister-in-law. He even knows which brand of pads I use!”

“The third, to you—for being such an independent, modern woman. You can live just fine without a man. Not like me—without a man, every day feels worse than the last.”

My mind went blank, as if thunder had struck.

What did she mean I cursed her husband to death?

What did she mean by my “training”?

What did she mean by me being “independent”?

Before I could speak, Sarah wrapped her arms around Ryan and punched him in the chest a few times.