From Trophy Wife To Forgotten

Chapter 3

Word Count: 614 | Released on: 02/07/2025

oing to be you, Chloe." "No one understands me like you do." "We're going to build a future together." The words, o

kitchen, making the pancakes I used to love, humming a cheerful tune.

e said, smiling.

hadn't liked overly sweet things for years, a fa

gently. It was a small act of rebellion, a quie

confused, then shrugge

a tangled mess of anger and sadness, but on the surface, I was a

having that big anniversary party next month

lculating, planning. I would go to the party. I would play the par

up his things-the books he'd left on my nightstand, the extra toothbrush in the bathroom, the hoodie he always wore on lazy Sund

for the trash pickup. Just as I turne

his face. "What's all this?"

'm getting rid of," I

life with me, and tossed it into the large trash bin at the end of the driveway. The irony was so thick I coul

few hours later. It was a large, potted orchid, elegant

ait to fill it with more b

ne, laughing at something on the screen. He was a complete stranger to me. The person I had loved, or the person I thought I had loved, was gone. Maybe he never existed a

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From Trophy Wife To Forgotten

Estelle Cramail Romance

“I decided to leave him on a Tuesday, not with a bang, but with the quiet, chilling certainty that settled in my bones as I watched him sleep in our bedroom doorway. For seven years, our life together had been a carefully constructed epic, built on shared apartments, inside jokes, and intertwined lives, a foundation I believed was unshatterable. Then, he walked in from a "work trip," a charming smile plastered on his face, attempting to pull me into a hug as if nothing had changed. But something had; a faint, almost imperceptible smudge of pink on the white collar of his shirt-a shade that wasn\'t mine. My world shattered as a brutal text arrived from an unknown number: a picture of his car, a fluffy pink charm in the rearview mirror, and a taunting message, "He likes my taste, doesn\'t he?" The cold, hard truth clicked into place: not only was he cheating, but his mistress, Sophia, was flaunting her triumph, confirming she was building a whole separate life with him. The final, devastating blow came at his parents\' anniversary party when I overheard the hushed whisper: "She\'s pregnant." The champagne glass slipped from my fingers, shattering like my heart, a deafening sound in the sudden silence of my mind. Liam, ever oblivious, still tried to parade me around as his trophy, even as Sophia, undeniably showing, called him away with a whimper, "Liam, I want to go home!" leaving me in a sea of strangers to make his choice. He chose her. Again. Seeing Sophia, blatant in her shared future with my long-term partner, filled me with a sickening realization: this wasn\'t just an affair; it was a cold, calculated betrayal of the deepest kind, and I was just an inconvenient obstacle. The next day, as he left on a "work" call from Sophia, I moved swiftly, placing the silver bracelet with the "S" charm from his wallet on the nightstand, along with printed texts from another man to Sophia-proof of her own double game. Then, as the car pulled away, I took out my phone and typed, "It\'s over, Liam. I know everything. About Sophia. About the baby. Have a nice life." And with a final, liberating block of his number, I drove away, leaving him to the wreckage of his own making, finally free.”