My Wife Ruined Our Wedding Anniversary Just To Please Her AssistantChapter 1

We had been married for three years when my wife’s assistant, Darren Gross, posted a photo on social media flaunting a lavish 20-layer cake.

The caption read.

[Girlfriends can’t compare to the boss!]

I simply left a comment ‘Nice cake’ and that was enough to set my wife off.

She called me, furious.

“What is wrong with you? I was just celebrating his birthday. Are you crazy to scold him like that?”

“Call and apologize right now. Just because I’ve tolerated you doesn’t mean you can act recklessly.”

Shortly after, the assistant posted another photo—him and my wife, smiling as they toasted with wine.

I knew exactly what it meant. A guilt-offering. Compensation from her to him.

But this time, I didn’t care anymore.

——

When Bianca Lawson walked through the door that evening, I had just thrown away the candles I’d bought.

Because today was our third wedding anniversary, I left work early, picked out the candles, cooked a nice meal—planned a quiet, romantic dinner just for the two of us.

If I hadn’t gotten bored waiting and checked my phone, I might’ve sat there all night like a fool.

She glanced at the bare table and frowned.

“Why isn’t there any food?”

I looked at her and asked quietly, “Didn’t you already eat?”

There was a time, not so long ago, when I’d cook and wait for her every night, no matter how late she came home—even when she said she’d eaten out.

“I don’t want to argue,” she snapped, brushing past me.

She tossed a small, gift-wrapped box on the table.

“A present, just for you. Didn’t you say you wanted a watch?”

She opened the box herself. Inside was a watch—its dull face and worn band betraying its age. It was secondhand.

I didn’t say anything. Just looked away.

Her impatience flared.

“Kevin Scott, what’s your problem now? You’re the one who said you wanted it. Why are you throwing a fit again?”

I finally looked up at her and spoke softly.

“I don’t want something that’s already been used. It feels... dirty.”

“You—”

She was about to lose it when her phone chimed with a message.

She checked it and smiled without thinking. A bright, happy smile. Then she looked at me.

“You’re such a pain. Everything has to be a big deal with you. I must’ve owed you something in a past life.”

She slipped on her shoes. “Wait here. I’ll go buy you a new one.”

“How long will you be gone?” I asked.