The Price of His Perfect Life

My husband's latest investment went belly-up, and the debt collectors were circling.

I gathered the gold jewelry hed given me for every anniversary, planning to sell it to help pay down what he owed. I was told it was all fake.

I went to get our condo appraised. The real estate agent pulled up the county records right in front of me. The deed was a forgery.

But the condoa five-million-dollar property on the lakefrontwas a wedding gift from Ethan. Hed promised it was in my name, and my name alone.

Was anything real?

With trembling hands, I snapped a picture of our marriage certificate and sent it to my best friend, Chloe, who works at the County Clerks office.

Her reply came back a minute later: Fake.

I looked at the crimson-bordered document, the elegant script, and a laugh escaped my lips. A dry, brittle sound.

Thank God, I whispered. Its fake.

1

Waiting for Chloes text, my stomach had been a knot of acid. In the five years Id been married to Ethan, I had never once doubted his love for me.

His work was demanding, and he was almost never with me on our actual anniversary. But he always made up for it with extravagant gifts and, in the days that followed, a smothering, apologetic affection that I soaked up like a dry sponge.

I never questioned the authenticity of those gifts. He was my husband. I loved him unconditionally. That was the beginning and end of it.

I spent an entire day, from sunrise to sunset, clutching the velvet boxes hed given me, visiting every high-end jeweler in the city. At each stop, I endured the same gentle, pitying looks. With every polite rejection, another layer of my decade-long belief in him was stripped away.

The final, killing blow came at a small downtown shop. To prove his point, the jeweler heated one of the gold bangles over a flame until it blackened and crumbled into ash. The blade Id felt hanging over my head all day finally fell.

I steadied myself against the glass counter. But how could it be fake? I asked, my voice thin. I have the receipt from your store.

The clerk checked the sales record. Maam, the receipt is real. But this bracelet wasnt sold with it.

The meaning was clear: Ethan had purchased the genuine pieces. He just hadnt given them to me.

My hands were shaking as I clutched the equally fake property deed. I called the County Recorders Office.

Id like to confirm the owner of the property at 101 Lakeshore Grand, I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Of course, one moment please, the voice on the other end replied.

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was Chloe, delivering the final verdict on my marriage. Audrey, your certificate is a forgery. But I ran Ethans name. He has an active marriage license on file. The womans name is Aria James.

The voice from the Recorders Office returned. Maam? The registered owner of that property is Ms. Aria James.

Ten years ago, I had defied my parents, packed up my savings, and moved from the warmth of Savannah to the biting winds of Chicago to be with him. Ethans business was just a fledgling startup then, and he worked brutal hours, entertaining clients late into the night. Id wait up for him, a pot of soup ready on the stove to ease his hangovers, never once failing in my duty.

I was grateful for how hard he worked, so I took on everything else. I managed the household, I did the cooking, I did the cleaning. He never once set foot in the kitchen. His business flourished. I, meanwhile, wilted under the endless haze of domesticity, my reflection slowly morphing into the kind of tired, faded woman he clearly disdained.

The constant work left me with a chronic ache in my lower back; if I bent over for too long, I could barely straighten up. Hed say he didnt mind, that I was beautiful to him, but whenever I caught his eye, I saw the flicker of avoidance, the subtle recoil. I told myself it didnt matter. As long as we were together, that was enough.

But all along, the husband I thought loved me to the bone was sharing a life, a real life, with someone else.

Aria James. The girl he never got over from high school. Now, she was a wildly popular influencer, a social media star. Shed built her brand on a risqu, flirty persona in the beginning, but had since pivoted to a philosophy of female singledom is the ultimate luxury. She preached to her legions of devoted followers that she was a proud, unmarried woman, dedicated to living life on her own terms. Just last week, she was trending for an interview she gave about her empowering, marriage-free lifestyle.

2

I opened TikTok and found Aria Jamess profile. A single account had liked every single one of her videos, every day, without fail. A quick search confirmed it. The account was registered to Ethans phone number.

Their profile pictures were a matching set.

I sometimes made silly videos myself, goofy little clips of my day. Id nudge him, asking him for a like the way I saw other couples do online. He wouldnt even look at the screen. Audrey, look at that filter. Its embarrassing. Besides, I dont even have a TikTok account.

But on Arias very first video, there he was, the first comment: Beautiful.

I stared at my reflection in the dark screen of my phone. The woman looking back was a stranger, a ghost of the girl Id been ten years ago. I thought my devotion, my sacrifice, would be seen. I never imagined he couldnt even stand to look.

Just then, the front door opened. Ethan was home.

He dropped his briefcase and sat on the sofa in silence, expecting me to come to him with a warm drink, as I always did.

When I didnt move, he got up with a sigh. He fumbled through the kitchen cabinets for a moment before shouting, his voice thick with irritation, Where are the glasses?

Of course. After all these years, he didnt even know where we kept the glasses. This man, who had never lifted a finger in our home, had meticulously planned and executed a decade of deception, commissioning fake jewelry, fake documents, a fake life.

What was I to him? An unpaid housekeeper? A warm body?

I walked over and tossed my phone onto the coffee table in front of him. You told me you didnt have a TikTok account, Ethan. Then why have you liked every single one of Aria Jamess videos? I checked. The account is linked to your number.

He looked genuinely shocked, as if it had never occurred to him that I might check. That I might ever stop simply believing.

He stalled for a long moment before finally muttering, Its for networking.

Networking? Youre too busy to look at your phone for days when I text you, but you have time for this networking?

Will you give it a rest? he snapped. Her entire career is based on engagement! Whats the big deal if I give her a like?

It was just like before we were married. Aria was a constant, haunting presence. Ethan would remember that she was afraid of thunderstorms and would video call her during every storm, even though Id told him, quietly, that I was scared of them too. He knew all her favorite foods, and over time, they somehow became his favorite foods. After a few explosive fights early in our marriage, hed become more discreet.

I thought I had won. I thought his heart was finally mine. I was wrong. They had just found a different way to be together.

My heart felt like a hollowed-out cavern. I turned without another word and went to the bedroom to pack.

3

Sweetheart, the wire transfer to Ethans company is all queued up. Ive gone through most of the paperwork on my end. Just waiting for your final go-ahead.

It was my father on the phone. I was in the bedroom, folding sweaters into a suitcase.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. Dad, pull it. Were not investing.

What happened? I thought he was out of capital. Tell me, did that boy do something to hurt you? I told you moving all the way up there by yourself was a mistake, with no one to lean on

No, its not that. Im just tired.

My dear girl, if youre tired, you come home. Your father will always take care of you.

Before I moved to Chicago, I had tested the waters with Ethan, suggesting he come visit my parents. He always had an excusea big meeting, a deadline. He never once met them. When my parents and I had our falling out over my decision to move, they didnt come to the wedding. As far as Ethan knew, I was completely alone in the world, utterly dependent on him.

But the rift between a father and daughter can only last so long. Years ago, my dad had secretly flown up to see me. Wed reconciled completely.

When I learned about the depth of Ethans financial trouble, I had prepared a two-pronged solution. First, I would liquidate my own assetsthe jewelry and the condo. Second, I would have my fathers firm inject the capital his company so desperately needed to survive.

Just a few days ago, Ethan had come home ecstatic, telling me a major investor from the South had contacted him, that the company was saved. I had smiled and congratulated him, genuinely happy, believing I was about to see the ambitious, brilliant man I fell in love with again.

I never imagined that in the grand production of his life, I was cast as the most insignificant extra.

When I emerged from the bedroom with my suitcase, Ethan looked up from the sofa, bewildered. What is this? Are you really leaving over a TikTok account? Are you serious? Besides, you dont know anyone in this city. Where are you even going to go?

I didnt answer. I just walked out the door and didnt look back.

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