Second-Rate Love

The day Adrian Cavagin proposed to me, marking twelve years together, was the day he confessed to cheating.
Just like that. No warning.
Marry me or leave me. The choice is yours.
He casually flicked a petal from the bouquet of roses I was holding. He told me he'd gone on a little date with the new intern at his company, right before coming to propose.
"The florist said ninety-nine roses for a proposal. Not one less. It's meant to symbolize forever," he said, a faint smile on his lips. "But the girl said she liked them, so I gave one to her. Didn't even think twice."
The tears of joy from his proposal were still wet on my cheeks. I stared at him, my mind refusing to process his words. "You like her that much?"
He shook his head, his gaze light and airy as it drifted over my face. "Eh, it was what it was. I just suddenly realized thats all I feel for you, too. Just what it is. Trying something new now and then, its refreshing."
He shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. "But we've been together for so long. It's a habit. So, really, its up to you."
I stood frozen.
Suddenly, the ninety-eight roses in my arms felt heavier than lead, crushing the air from my lungs.
Adrian lit a cigarette, blowing a plume of smoke directly into my face.
"Even last month, when you called me from the hospital after your ulcer surgery, I was with her. We were skiing in Iceland."
His voice was conversational. "Extreme sports I'm getting too old for them. But when she grabbed my hand, squealing with excitement it felt new."
I stared at him, numb. I remembered last month. Years of entertaining clients with him at lavish dinners had finally caught up to me, the gastritis flaring into a bleeding ulcer that landed me in the ER.
I called him, my voice weak and hazy with pain. Hed sounded groggy, mumbling something about a difficult client. Not wanting to worry him, I swallowed the tremor in my voice and told him I was fine, just to take care of himself, to get some rest.
He paused now, taking another drag from his cigarette. "I knew something was wrong. I could hear it in your voice. I hesitated, but she can be very persuasive."
Silence stretched between us. He tapped the ash from his cigarette onto the polished floor.
"If you want to break up, you can have five of the nine properties." His tone was flat, business-like. "The company shares are off the table, but I won't short you on the money. Or we can get married. You'll always be Mrs. Cavagin."
Thirty minutes ago, surrounded by a sea of roses and the soft flicker of candlelight, with him on one knee and a universe of promise in his eyes, I thought I was the happiest woman in the world.
A tear hit the floor with a soft splash. I looked at him, lost. "Why? Why today of all days?"
Adrian sighed, reaching out as if to wipe my tears. "I didn't want to. But I'm tired of lying to you, Clara. We're not even thirty. The thought of being tied down for the rest of our lives its terrifying."
I slapped his hand away, a raw scream tearing from my throat as I began to destroy everything. The vases of roses, the carefully arranged candles, the whole picture-perfect sceneI smashed it all to pieces.
"Don't you come near me!"
The thorny stems of the roses scratched my hands, drawing blood. His expression hardened, and he grabbed my wrist. "Don't be like this. I gave you a choice. I'm not forcing you to accept"
I recoiled, my entire body trembling. "Don't touch me! Please just let me think!"
He shoved me away in frustration and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. "Fine. Think all you want."
I collapsed to the floor, a long, bloody gash marking my leg where a rose stem had caught me. The reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window stared back at me: a wild-haired, mascara-streaked monster. A madwoman.
I don't remember how I got home. It was the middle of July, but I was so cold my teeth were chattering.
After swallowing a handful of pills from a bottle, I fell into a dream of the past, of a time when Adrian and I were just two unwanted kids in an orphanage.
The director was trying to sell me to a crippled old man. Adrian grabbed my hand and we ran.
"If you care so much, why don't you take care of her for the rest of your life?" the director had shrieked after us.
The boy turned back, his eyes burning bright. "I will! I damn well will!"
He worked under the table, entertained sleazy businessmen, and clawed his way up from nothing. Life bore down on his spine until it groaned with the strain, leaving him with a body full of stress-related ailments, but he always, always took care of me.
The night I graduated, he nearly drank himself into a hospital bed at a business dinner. But he still showed up late at night with a bouquet of flowers, asking if he had made me happy. Id nodded through my tears, and he held me so tight I could barely breathe.
"I will love you, Clara. I'll always make you happy."
It was a beautiful dream, shattered by the violent buzzing of my phone. News alerts were flooding my screen. Tech Mogul Adrian Cavagin in Fender Bender with Mystery Woman.
In the accompanying video, he was smiling, handing a business card to the paparazzi. "You want a statement? Call my fiance."
My phone exploded with calls from reporters.
My hands shook as I dialed Adrian's number, demanding an explanation. His voice was lazy, unconcerned. "Clara, if we're going to be married, this is part of the package. Welcome to the big leagues. You need to learn how to handle these things."
The vultures were already circling our house.
I slammed my foot on the gas, peeling out of the driveway. I remembered three years ago, when the paparazzi had surrounded us for the first time. Adrian was just starting to make a name for himself, and an old-money tycoon wanted him for a son-in-law. It was a shortcut to the top.
But Adrian, facing the threat of being blacklisted, had refused. He smiled for the cameras, his arm wrapped gently around me. "Everything I have, I owe to the woman I love. Without her, what's the point of all this fame and fortune?"
Everyone had wondered what our fairytale romance was really like.
Three years. It felt like a lifetime ago.
The moment I stormed into his office building and saw the looks of pity and sympathy on his employees faces, I knew. I shoved open the door to his office.
The scene inside ripped through my rage and left only a shard of ice in its place.
The choice Adrian had given me suddenly had its answer.
The faint, sour smell of sex hung in the air. Used condoms were scattered on the floor.
A framed photo of us from years ago was lying face down on his desk. On the glass over my smiling face, a clear handprint.
I leaned against the wall, dry-heaving until my stomach cramped.
The girl on the couch dressed herself with unhurried grace. "So this is the wife. She's not much to look at, is she?"
Adrian's gaze was heavy on me. "Get out. For now."
The girl pouted. "But you said we could continue"
His jaw tightened with impatience. "Just listen. We'll talk tonight."
She smirked, deliberately pulling a pair of lace panties from his pants pocket and dangling them in my direction. "Fine. Ill be waiting. We still have that new move to try, remember?"
She sashayed out.
Adrian offered no explanation. He just poured me a glass of water and gently patted my back. "You did well just now. Didn't make a scene."
His tone was calm, almost approving. "Does this mean you've made up your mind? Starting to act like a proper wife."
The glass shattered in my hand. I started to laugh, a broken, hollow sound. "Adrian, I choose neither."
I made a scene. A huge one. I demanded he fire his new "assistant." He looked at my tear-streaked, bloodshot eyes and soothed me with gentle words. "She's just an assistant. It's done. Don't ruin your health over it."
Maybe it was pride, maybe it was resentment, or maybe I just couldn't let go. I clung to our rotting relationship, believing that as long as I held on tight, we could go back to the way things were.
On our anniversary, I cooked a feast, a desperate attempt to mend the chasm between us. But what I got instead were photos of him in bed with the latest influencer, spreading like wildfire through our social circle.
I flipped the table, sending food and porcelain crashing to the floor.
I went to the media. I went to his business partners. I tried to teach him a lesson.
But reality taught me one instead.
With a single phone call from Adrian, the media wouldn't touch the story. Instead, they painted me as a paranoid, jealous shrew. He even put out a word to his contacts to throw more advertising deals the influencers way, offering to negotiate his own partnership costs to make it happen.
I became the laughingstock of the city.
He didn't even like her that much. It was just a lesson, a way to force me to accept my new reality.
"Clara," he said, his voice patient, as if explaining something to a child. "You didn't like the last one, so I got rid of her. This new one shes a bit more tenacious, but I can get rid of her too. But you have to tell me, when does it end?"
He rubbed his temples. "We have twenty years between us. I'm willing to be patient with you. This time, let me teach you how its done."
He transferred the deed of the first apartment we ever bought to the influencer.
The year he started his company, we were broke, living in a cramped, fifteen-square-meter basement apartment. The window was drafty, and in the winter, it was like living in an icebox. I remember being delirious with fever on our lumpy, second-hand mattress. He just held me, his own body shivering. The moment his business took off, he spent every penny we had on that apartment.
His eyes were red with emotion that day. "Clara," he had said, his voice thick. "I can finally give you a home."
Two flightless birds, abandoned by their parents, finally had a nest.
I cried until I had no dignity left, but the apartment was still gone.
The influencer was replaced by a starlet, the starlet by a fresh-faced model. One time, I came home from a physical therapy appointment to find him with someone in our bed.
Thats when I started to unravel.
Every time I closed my eyes, I was haunted by the jeering faces of the world. Your father didn't want you, your mother didn't want you, and now Adrian doesn't want you either.
I didnt know what I was trying to hold onto anymore. I put cameras in our cars, in our rooms. I stalked him, hiding in places I thought he might appear. I took pictures of his affairs, one after another.
And what did I get for it? A restraining order.
Adrian filed for a protection order against me. The police got involved. I was forced to undergo a psychiatric evaluation.
The night I was released, I mechanically dialed his number over and over. A woman finally answered, her voice laced with a post-coital breathlessness. "Looking for Adrian? He's a little busy right now."
The pain was a physical thing, a blade twisting in my chest. I found a knife and held it to my heart.
Our housekeeper found me and called Adrian.
He looked at me with a complicated expression, a long sigh escaping his lips. "Okay, maybe I've taken things too far these last few days. I gave you a choice, Clara. If you can't take it, you can leave. I never wanted to hurt you."
Back in college, Adrian had to support us both. He worked multiple jobs, living on two bread rolls a day just so he could pay my tuition. The severe malnutrition landed him in the hospital. I remember tracing his sharp, protruding ribs, begging him through my tears to just leave me, to save himself.
It was the first time he ever got angry with me. "Clara Reed, we've been together since we were seven years old. If you tell me to leave, I won't survive."
I clutched my chest now, my mind a blank. "Adrian why doesn't it hurt you?"
His face darkened. "Don't be ridiculous. This isn't easy for anyone."
The knife incident made him back off for a while. I spent my days in a daze, watching him, not knowing what I was thinking or feeling. But one scar wasn't enough to chain him down.
He found a new girl.
This one was different. She was timid and mousy, with dark, sallow skin. The moment she saw me, she would tremble and apologize. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. I really didn't know."
She looked familiar, but I couldn't place her.
For the first time, Adrian stood between me and one of his women, his eyes dark with a silent threat. "Nina doesn't know anything. I'm the one who lied to her. Clara, you can throw whatever tantrums you want, but if you touch her, all our previous agreements are off the table."
Nina really was different.
Adrian, who was allergic to dogs, got a Pomeranian for her. He would come home on time every single day to walk it with her, his face covered in red, itchy blotches.
For her birthday, he bought an entire amusement park.
I doubled over, a sudden, sharp pain stealing my breath.
My eighteenth birthday. Adrian had scraped together every penny he had to give me a proper coming-of-age gift. I chose a run-down, nearly abandoned amusement park. I told him it was more than enough. The rides were old and creaky. We rode the roller coaster and the carousel, and the whole day cost less than five dollars. I had the time of my life. I remember seeing Adrian watch me, his eyes red.
On the way home, he squeezed my hand. He promised that one day, he would take me to the biggest amusement park in the world. He would buy one just for me.
Later, when we finally had money, I mentioned going to Disneyland. He was always too busy. I understood. I knew how hard he worked. Eventually, I forgot about it myself.
But he hadn't forgotten. He had just given his promise to someone else.
The final straw was the ring he gave Nina. It was a custom design, intricately engraved with her name. Not like the one hed given me, a generic, tacky thing hed picked up on a whim.
He slipped the ring on her finger. His smile was genuine. "I want to make you happy for the rest of your life."
Nina blushed, a shy dimple appearing at the corner of her mouth.
I looked in a mirror and finally understood why she looked so familiar.
She looked just like me, when I was young.
That realization shattered the last piece of me.
I stormed into the amusement park and, in a hysterical rage, I scratched their faces, my nails digging into their skin. "If you don't love me anymore, why did you fall in love with a copy of my face?"
Adrian had his bodyguards drag me away. "She's insane! Get a psychiatrist to the house!"
That night, I smashed every mirror in the house. I couldn't understand. I couldn't accept it.

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