Love Sank In Marriage

On our fifth wedding anniversary.

I reheated dinner three times. He never showed up.

But there he was, plastered all over my Facebook—his high school sweetheart by his side.

The post read: [The family I've always dreamed of.]

Aaron was there, clutching his old flame with one arm and our child with the other.

I couldn't help but comment: [What a charming little family!]

——

Aaron's grin was full of smug satisfaction.

Tears welled up, and I quickly wiped them away.

I threw out all his favorite dishes—one after the other, right into the trash.

When Aaron finally stumbled in at dawn.

He whispered, "Honey, I'm starving."

I shifted away, "The leftovers were fed to the dog. Make your own food."

He reached out, but I pulled back before he could touch me.

Holding back his anger, he leaned in, "We had to be there—we're the godparents. And since you didn't come, I gave out an extra large envelope."

"The photos? Just us old friends goofing off. Don't think too much of it. If she and I were a thing, we'd probably have a second kid by now."

His excuses chilled me to the bone.

Five years in, and he's never really seen me as part of the family.

Not a single photo of us together.

And certainly no playacting for a crowd.

I snuggled deeper into the blankets and murmured, "Sure, childhood friends, nothing more."

He seemed pleased with that and lightly patted my head, "You always get it, don't you?"

Just friends?

I've never bought that line—not for a second.

It's like the storm that brews beneath a calm lake.

Like the secrets in the box Aaron keeps in our closet.

Hidden away, but causing havoc the moment it's opened.

His phone rang before I could say another word.

"Aaron, darling, Emma's inconsolable. Can you come over?"

"You have a way with her. She'll calm down if you're there."

With a grin, he agreed immediately.

I turned away, indifferent.

Noticing it, he approached, "Babe, Emma's been tough tonight, and I don't want Lily dealing with it alone. Go to sleep; no need to wait up."

He kissed my cheek and hurried out.

Who knows how many nights he's called away by Lily.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm the outsider tearing apart their perfect little world.

The next day, I skipped making breakfast for the first time ever.

I despise cooking, honestly.

I only learned because Aaron insisted homemade was healthier than any takeout.

Five years of daybreak devotion, all for him.

But I'm done.

Five years and his heart's still not in it? I'm out.

I took my time getting ready and stepped out.

Saw Lily's latest post in the elevator: [True love shows up, no matter the hour.]

It was a shot of Aaron cradling their child.

Endless tenderness was shown in his eyes.

I hit "like" almost mechanically.

Then Aaron was on the phone in a flash.

"Come on, Jane, why stir up drama? It's just a post. Can't you just let it slide? How am I supposed to smooth things over when you act like this? You know she's been on edge since the baby."

I laughed off his flurry of questions, "If I'm such a bother, just block me."

His tone hardened, "Stop being so petty, Jane. Jealous of a baby, really?"

No patience left in him—that was clear.

But that's just who he is around Lily.

She's always been his priority.

I responded coldly, "A 30-year-old baby, you mean?"

His voice rose as he cursed, "Jane, that's enough. How many times do I have to explain? You're just cruel."

And with that, he hung up.

As Aaron always says—being the bad guy isn't so bad sometimes.

Aaron popped up at the florist's while I was busy setting up a proposal bouquet.

He hung back by the window, too cool to come inside, just motioning for me to step out.

Flowers were never his thing, nor was he thrilled about my little shop—defiance of his wishes post-marriage.

The compromise? Playing along with a ruse that we couldn't have kids.

I agreed, and that got his reluctant nod.

As I approached him, Aaron passed me a bag, saying, "Check this out—Lily and I picked something out for you."

I hesitated to accept it.

Lily, unable to sit still, leaned out from the passenger side with a smirk. "Don't sweat it, Jane. Aaron's just been a lifesaver to us single moms lately."

Aaron gestured for me to take the gift.

As he stepped closer, I noticed a subtle blush on his neck.

And there it was—a lipstick mark on his collar, identical to the one Lily was wearing.

Images of Lily's last message flashed through my mind—Aaron consoling a crying woman in his arms.

I could easily imagine how intimate they were when they were alone.

I stood resolute against the cold wind, quashing any last shred of peace Aaron might have hoped for.

In frustration, he dropped the bag at my feet.

Contents scattered—a purse, identical to the one Lily carried, in my favorite brand but the color I despised.

"No thanks, I don't like it."

Five years of marriage boiled down to being nothing more than someone's stand-in.

Lily had his devotion; I was left with hollow gestures.

Gifts from Aaron were rare, usually just token anniversary offerings.

For the past four years, I'd accepted them, whether I liked them or not, convinced they were tokens of his affection.

Now, I expected nothing.

No longer eager to measure my worth through his eyes.

Nor was I interested in dissecting his relationship with Lily.

When love fades, clarity arrives.

I met Aaron's detached gaze, and said plainly, "Aaron, let's get a divorce."

"Stop with the drama, we've got a reunion and you're coming. Let's go," he scoffed.

He noted my chilled, pale face—his eyes briefly showing concern.

He didn't wait for a refusal, just pulled me into the car.

Lily offered a guilty smile, "Oops, didn't realize you were coming, Jane. Took your spot."

Aaron glanced at me in the rearview, nonchalant, "No worries, she prefers the back anyway."

I was always the one who sat in the backseat of our relationship.

In the pecking order of Aaron's affections, I was also always an afterthought.

His life, his priorities, revolved around Lily.

He told me not to mind.

So, I didn't.

Yet, Lily had stood between us like a gap for many years, unbridgeable and unfixable.

I remained silent, simply gazing out the window.

Their laughter and reminiscing filled the car.

We stopped at a restaurant, and the teasing started as soon as we walked in,

"Man, Aaron, you two are thick as thieves. Maybe ditch the wife and marry Lily?"

"Seriously, you could be a dad without the hassle!"

"Emma is too cute. If you don't step up, I might!"

...

Lily's cheeks turned pink.

"Cut it out, guys, Jane's right here," she said, linking arms with me, all smiles. "It's just a joke, we've always ribbed them like this."

Aaron intervened, half-heartedly, "Alright, enough."

Inside the private dining room, his friend Greg called out, "Aaron's late, that's three shots as a penalty."

Lily reached for a glass but Aaron tenderly took it from her, admonishing gently, "Remember your allergy."

Greg added, "Yeah, wasn't it you who ended up in the hospital trying to stop him from drinking?"

Aaron just smiled and downed the shot in one go.

He then thrust the glass towards me, his look stern, "Jane, since you're finally out, have a drink and fit in a bit."

It was Aaron's first time introducing me to his circle after years of excuses for not taking me out to meet his friends.

I put the glass down on the table, smiling politely, "Sorry, guys, I'm allergic too."

Aaron's face fell immediately.

"Jane, you pleaded to be here, and now you pull this?"

"If you won't drink, you can just get outta here."

I heard it before, and it echoed a night six years back when I found him drunk, heartbroken over a past love.

I'd grabbed his drink, unwilling to watch him spiral.

His drunken gaze fixed on me:

"Drink this, and I'll go with you. If you won't drink, you can just get outta here."

Without hesitating, I drank it, and darkness followed.

I awoke in a hospital.

I confessed, and he accepted.

A year later, we were married.

I thought it was the culmination of four years of unspoken love.

Now, I realized I might have just been a familiar face from his past.

My voice empty, I told him, "Have fun tonight."

Lily hugged Aaron, challenging me with her eyes,

"You really should adjust that attitude, Jane. Aaron apologized, why the fuss? No wonder people don't respect you. Always jealous, that's not what Aaron wants."

I looked away, indifferent,

"If that's the case, we should just get a divorce."

As I turned to leave, Aaron's voice thundered behind me,

"Jane, if you walk out, don't bother coming back."

That sentence felt like a release.

I had always feared solitude.

But during our six years together, that fear was overshadowed by the dread of losing him.

I had thought I couldn't handle the weight of those words, yet, hearing them now, I felt liberated.

I no longer needed to cling to a man who didn't love me.

I no longer feared the loss of something I never really had.

...

I remained silent.

Cautiously not to disturb anyone inside.

I gently opened the door, then quietly closed it.

The room buzzed with noise.

"Go after her, Aaron!"

"We may not like her much, but you're still married."

"She's too petty. You need someone classy like Lily."

"Forget her, let's just drink!"

...

On my way home, Lily texted me a picture of them all having a blast.

[Better off without you.]

[Jane, Aaron has always loved me. You were always the odd one out.]

[Take the hint already.]

Her message dripped with scorn and triumph.

I texted back: [No need for advice, trash belongs in the trash.]

Then I blocked her.

This marriage was a mistake from the get-go.

Five years of trying too hard to please.

I was done playing the fool.

Once I got home, I didn't waste a minute before I started packing.

Five years in this house was five years too many.

I had once dreamt of a life here, filled with love and partnership.

That dream had me leaving my doting parents to build a home with him in Portland.

I had put my soul into decorating every corner of our home.

Whenever I sought Aaron's input, his response was always, "Whatever makes you happy."

He treated our home like just another temporary stay.

I left a signed divorce agreement on the kitchen table.

Then, I moved back to the loft above my flower shop.

In hindsight, I'm grateful I fought for my career—it gave me a refuge when I needed it most.

By the time I was done, the morning had fully broken.

Since I had a wedding to set up that day, I decided to just head straight to work.

After I left, Aaron didn't bother to contact me.

Life without him suddenly opened up more free time than I'd ever had.

I used to split my days between taking care of him and managing the shop.

It was always a struggle.

Now, I could pour my energy into the work I loved.

That brought me a strange peace.

Until that peace was disrupted a week later.

At a client's wedding, I ran into Aaron, Lily, and her child.

Aaron spotted me and quickly pulled me aside.

He scrutinized my outfit.

"Jane, you showing up like this, are you trying to make me look bad?"

"If I'd known you'd let yourself go, I never would've agreed to your little flower shop venture."

Lily, clutching her child, joined in,

"Can you believe her? Showing up like she belongs? With Aaron's reputation on the line?"

"Tell you what, marrying her was his biggest mistake. She's even threatening him with divorce now. If anyone knows a sharp lawyer, hook us up. I'm not letting her walk away with his money."

In Aaron's eyes, I was nothing more than an embarrassment.

And as Lily spoke ill of me, Aaron's silence was his agreement.

He never stood up for me.

Never really stood by my side.

I yanked my hand free from his.

"Aaron, once you sign the divorce papers, there'll be no more embarrassment."

Aaron looked down at me, his expression one of pure condescension.

"Jane, do you really think these stunts are necessary? Running away, throwing divorce papers around? Do you think you can actually live without me? I'm tired of your games. They're just a waste of my time."

He tried to pull me into the crowd, but I resisted.

Suddenly, I felt weak and collapsed.

I woke up in a hospital.

Aaron was there, looking worried.

"Honey, are you alright? Tell me where it hurts, I'll get a doctor."

His concern seemed genuine, but I was skeptical.

It wasn't until the doctor announced I was pregnant that I understood the charade.

Aaron had always said he didn't want kids.

Our pretend play in front of his parents was based on that lie.

Watching him dote on Lily and her child had always hurt.

I had even considered breaking our pact because I wanted a child with him.

I had been secretly preparing my body, waiting for him to change his mind.

When he found out I was taking prenatal vitamins, his cold response confirmed my fears.

"Jane, I won't have kids with you."

It was clear then—he didn't dislike kids, just the idea of having them with me.

What then was his sudden tenderness at the hospital?

He gently touched my stomach.

"Jane, we're having a baby. I'm about to be a dad."

I watched the IV drip emotionlessly.

"Aaron, it's just my baby."

Divorce was still on my mind; this child wouldn't change that.

"Jane, let me explain..."

He looked at me earnestly, but his phone interrupted us.

It was Lily, panicking, "Aaron, Emma's got a fever, and I'm really worried. Can you come over?"

He stood up without hesitation.

As he reached for the door, I stopped him.

"Aaron, please, just let me be."

He paused, not turning around, and said, "Jane, I'll be back."

Clearly, his priorities were still with Lily and her child.

After the IV, the doctor cleared me to go home.

I stopped by a bakery for some sweets.

The rain gently patted the windows, and I found solace in the sound.

That night, I slept more soundly than I had in years.

But the next morning, as I descended the stairs, I was stunned by what I saw.