Without a choice

Today was our fifth wedding anniversary.

My husband, Mark, walked in with a woman who was young, Chinese, and very pregnant.

He introduced her as his assistant, Mei, as she surveyed our home with an air of ownership, her eyes pointedly avoiding mine.

Mei' s gaze finally landed on me, laced with cold condescension.

"Sarah, right?" she purred. "Hand-wash my lingerie. And later, when Mark and I are together, you can kneel and serve us."

My heart turned to ice as Mark just smiled, seeing nothing wrong.

I saw the tech-neck, the calculated cruelty in her eyes - this wasn' t just an affair; it was a deliberate humiliation.

Then, Mark scoffed, "Oh, here we go again. This tired act. Honestly, Sarah, I' m more bored of this than I am of sleeping with you."

Their cruel laughter echoed, and I knew: something inside me had finally snapped.

I walked forward, took their hands, forced them together. "For people from such a 'cultured' background," I said, my voice low and clear, "you both sure act like animals."

"Since the 'Mrs. Miller' title is so great, you can have it. You two enjoy your happily ever after. Just leave the rest of us out of your mess."

I turned my back, walking out, remembering my father' s forgotten warning: Men change, Sarah. Be careful who you give your heart to.

I barely stepped onto the cold pavement when Mark' s voice cut through the air. "Come back here and sign the divorce papers."

He thrust them at me, demanding I sign for Mei' s peace of mind, promising to remarry me later.

His words were hollow, a broken record of lies.

Then, his eyes landed on my jade pendant, a gift from our first anniversary. "Mei has been having nightmares," he said, demanding it. "She needs it."

I hesitated, clutching the last symbol of the man I thought I married.

"What, you can' t even pretend to be composed now? It' s just a necklace."

With a sharp movement, I tore it off. Mei snatched it, her triumphant glint turning to feigned clumsiness as she let it shatter at her feet.

"Oh, dear," she cooed, then gasped, pressing her leg. "Ouch! A shard… it cut me."

Mark panicked, fumbling for his phone.

Mei looked up at me, her voice just loud enough, "Sarah… I know you' re upset. But you didn' t have to do that. I know you weren' t trying to curse my baby on purpose… right?"

Mark' s head snapped up, his fury now blazing at me.

"What did you say?" he snarled.

"It' s nothing, Mark," Mei sobbed, clinging to him. "Sarah didn' t mean it."

His hand swung through the air. SLAP.

I stumbled, falling onto the shattered jade. A sharp pain shot through my hand as green shards embedded themselves in my palm.

Blood welled. Mark stood over me, chest heaving. "Apologize! What the hell is wrong with you, Sarah? You were never like this!"

He roared for an apology, for a crime I didn' t commit.

The man who once defended me was now a stranger, consumed by hate.

I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. Slowly, I pushed myself up, ignoring the intense pain.

"I can' t do it," I said, my voice steady. "I can' t apologize."

His face turned a dangerous red. He grabbed my other arm, fingers digging in. "Fine! If you won' t apologize, then you' ll compensate her. Give me that bracelet."

It was my mother' s, my last connection to her.