The Marriage I left Behind After My Husband Ruined MeChapter 1
I was in the hospital bed, still weak from the miscarriage, when I saw images of my husband, Brandon, kissing a girl. I thought I was imagining things until I caught him in our own house, tangled in bed with his best friend’s sister, Denise.
“Ssh, Brandon, be gentle will you?” Denise whispered, her voice breathless and teasing. She ran her hands down his back, her nails digging into his skin. “What if she wakes up and then sees us?”
“No, she’s not gonna wake up,” he replied, his voice low and rough. “I knocked her out using the medicine she was drinking,” Brandon said casually, as if he were talking about putting a dog to sleep. “That is why she won’t wake up till morning.”
The world tilted on its axis.
Denise paused, her hands stilling on his shoulders. “You’re still doing that? Maybe that medicine was the reason why she got the miscarriage.”
My hand flew to my mouth. I bit down on my knuckle to stop the scream that was clawing its way up my throat.
Brandon laughed.
It was a cold, heartless sound. “Well, I guess so,” he said, shrugging as he settled deeper between her legs. “But who cares about it? I don’t really care about the baby. She was the one who wanted it and kept begging for it. It was annoying.”
Annoying. My dead child. My grief. My love. It was all just an annoyance to him.
Denise pouted, tracing his jawline. “But do you love her?”
“Of course, I love my wife,” Brandon said instantly. The lie rolled off his tongue like honey. “So she cannot know about this. And your brother, my best friend, too? Got it?”
And then they kissed again, wet and hungry, devouring each other while I stood in the shadows, shattering into a million jagged pieces.
I couldn't help but laugh.
How could he say he loved me while fucking another woman?
I backed away, leaving them to their filth. The next day, I waited until Brandon left for work, kissing my forehead with that same treacherous mouth, telling me to rest, telling me he loved me. I waited until the sound of his car faded down the driveway.
Then I dressed. I put on my coat, hiding my trembling hands in my pockets, and walked out the door.
I went straight to Mark’s office. Mark was an old friend, a lawyer who knew me before I was Mrs. Brandon Miller.
“Draft the divorce papers,” I said.