Late one night, I came across a post online.
I’ve got a side chick. How do I keep my wife from finding out and get her to agree to a divorce?
The top comment said, easy. Tell her your company has a huge overseas opportunity, but you need proof that you’re single. Convince her to get a fake divorce. Tell her it’s just on paper. Then you can enjoy yourself abroad with the mistress while your wife stays home taking care of your parents.
It made me sick.
What made me sicker was what happened the very next day.
My husband came home from work, loosened his tie, and looked at me with that practiced, gentle expression he used whenever he wanted something.
“Honey,” he said, “my company is offering me a training program overseas. It’s a huge opportunity. But there’s one condition. They need proof that I’m unmarried.”
Then he looked me straight in the eye.
“Let’s get a fake divorce.”
The second he said it, my whole body went cold.
The post from the night before flashed through my mind so hard it felt like someone had dumped ice water down my back. I pressed down the disgust twisting inside my stomach and decided to test him one more time.
“Can’t you turn it down?” I asked softly. “Our daughter is still little. And your parents haven’t been doing well these past two years.”
“No.”
The word came out so sharp it cut through the room. He must have realized how harsh he sounded, because he immediately softened his voice and reached for my hand.
“This chance is once in a lifetime, Emma. Two years overseas, then I come back and I could get promoted straight to manager. My salary could double. I’m doing this for you. For our family.”
He squeezed my fingers like he was the devoted husband of the year.
“It’s just company paperwork. My boss says unmarried employees are seen as more stable for assignments like this. We’ll divorce on paper, but we won’t really separate. I’ll still send all my salary home every month. Once I finish the program, I’ll come right back and marry you again.”
He smiled at me like he thought I was stupid enough to be grateful.
“Trust me.”
Trust him?
There was no such thing as a fake divorce. Once the papers were stamped and the certificate was issued, it was real. Legally real. Final. Permanent unless both people chose to marry again.
And looking at the confidence in his face, I felt the last shred of trust I had in him disappear.
So I lowered my eyes, nodded, and said exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Okay, baby. I’ll do whatever you think is best.”
The relief that flashed across his face was instant. He was so happy he could barely hide it.
“Then let’s do it as soon as possible,” he said. “Tomorrow we’ll start the process.”
That night, after he fell asleep, I wanted to check his phone and see who the woman was. But Brandon had gotten careful. He slept with his phone tucked under his pillow like a dragon guarding treasure.
So instead, I opened that post again.
The original poster had updated.
Got my wife to agree to the divorce. Once I’m abroad, I’ll fake my death and disappear. Then I won’t have to send money back. After a few years, when my parents are gone and the kid is older, I can go back and enjoy life.
The comments under it were full of praise.
Smart move, bro.
That’s how you do it.
Home flowers can’t compare to wild ones.
I stared at the screen so long my eyes started to burn. Finally, I used a throwaway account and typed one sentence.
Aren’t you afraid karma will come for you?
The replies came fast.
Living with an old wife is the real karma.
You must not be married.
You’ll understand once you are.
I deleted my comment in disgust and turned to look at the man beside me.
He was sleeping peacefully, breathing through his open mouth like he didn’t have a care in the world.
For one wild second, I wanted to smack him.
So I did.
My palm cracked across his face.
He jolted awake, stunned and disoriented, and I immediately threw my arms around him.
“Baby, did you have a nightmare?” I whispered, patting his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
He touched his cheek, confused, but didn’t seem to notice anything strange. Within seconds he flopped back down and started snoring again.
I stared into the darkness, teeth clenched.
Go ahead, Brandon.
Leave.
But once you’re gone, don’t expect to come back and find anything waiting for you.