Tenth Anniversary, Getting DivorcedChapter 1
At the company's tenth-anniversary banquet, my husband's childhood sweetheart made an unexpected entrance. Without hesitation, she walked straight up to him, throwing her arms around him and handing him a bouquet of bright red roses.
To my disbelief, my husband didn't pull away—he hugged her back, tightly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The crowd erupted in cheers, calling for them to kiss, as if I was the outsider and they were the true couple.
My chest tightened; the pain unbearable. Without looking back, I turned and left the room. Goodbye, Zane. You didn't deserve my love.
——
Once again, Zane came home reeking of alcohol, the heavy scent filling the air as soon as the door creaked open. He staggered in like he owned the place, his posture demanding attention. "Bring me my slippers!" he barked, his voice laced with the entitlement of a king addressing a servant.
I sat quietly on the sofa, a half-full glass of champagne in hand, my gaze distant. The sound of him fumbling with his shoes reached my ears, followed by an annoyed huff. When I didn't move, he glared at me from across the room, his brow furrowing.
"You're just going to sit there?" Zane snapped, his voice cutting through the silence. "And you're drinking? At this hour?"
I glanced at him, my expression cool, the glass lightly tapping against my lips before I spoke. "You've got hands, don't you? Or did you suddenly forget how to use them?"
Zane's face hardened, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes. "What's gotten into you today? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"
He stood there, looking genuinely perplexed, as though he had no idea what I was upset about. As if just a few hours ago, he hadn't blatantly disrespected me in front of everyone at the company banquet. He had wrapped his arms around Maeve, his childhood sweetheart, as if she was his wife, not me. The crowd had cheered like it was all part of some romantic comedy, leaving me standing there, a silent bystander. CEO or not, did that give him the right to treat me like I was invisible?
Ignoring him, I kept my focus on the bubbles rising in my champagne glass, their slow ascent oddly calming. Zane, undeterred by my coldness, placed a small, elegant jewelry box beside me. "Here," he said, his voice softening. "I got you something. Open it."