Her First Love Stole My Masterpiece

At the end of the year, my wife dragged me to her high school reunion. While she was busy playing the part of the successful CEO, I found myself scrolling through a viral thread on a popular forum.

[My first loves husband is terminally ill. What should I do?]

The top comment read: [What does her husband being sick have to do with you?]

The original poster (OP) replied: [Because Im planning on taking his place.]

The comments section exploded.

[What kind of homewrecker logic is this?]

[Wait, I just checked OPs profile... are you the designer behind 'The Dying Star'?!]

My fingers trembled against the screen.

The Dying Star. It was a piece I had sculpted when I was eighteen.

The OP replied below: [Oops, caught me. I designed it for my first love, but she got married while I was studying abroad.]

The tone of the thread shifted instantly to one of tragic romance.

[Im at her reunion today. Her husband is here, but I managed to text her and get her alone. Shes had a little to drink and shes crying in my arms right now.]

Attached was a photo. A woman was clinging to a mans waist, her face buried in his chest. She was wearing a custom-tailored suitthe exact one my wife, Victoria, had put on this morning.

...

I reached for a glass of red wine on the table and drained it in one gulp.

A former classmate sitting next to me noticed my sudden pallor and waved a hand in front of my face. "You okay, Miles? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I exhaled slowly, forcing my heart to stop its frantic hammering. "I'm fine. Just need some air."

Once I stepped out into the hallway, I opened the app again. The sentiment had done a total 180.

[Such a tragedy. OP and his first love were clearly meant to be.]

[Ive seen 'The Dying Star' in person. I never knew jewelry could hold that much pain.]

[I heard that design won a dozen international awards. OP is a literal genius.]

When I was in school, I had designed The Dying Star for my secret crush, Victoria Beaumont. Now my wife.

She told me she had locked it away in a private vault, too precious to wear.

Aside from her, no one knew it was my work.

Who was this "genius designer" claiming my life?

I walked toward the stairwell, and as I rounded the corner, I heard voices coming from behind the heavy fire door. I hesitated, then pushed it open just a crack.

"Her husband is dying," a mans voice whispered, thick with a smug sort of pity. "What are you going to do about him, Victoria?"

"Why? Are you looking for a promotion to 'husband' already?" Victorias voice followed, light and teasing.

"Don't be mean. You were literally crying two minutes ago because you missed me so much. Now you're picking on me?"

"I'm picking on you? Fine. I'll show you what picking on you really looks like."

The man let out a small, playful gasp.

Then came Victorias low, melodic laugh. The sound made the blood in my veins turn to ice. After ten years of marriage, I knew that laugh better than my own name.

I pulled my hand back and walked blindly down the hall. I clicked on the OP's profile. Most of his posts were from international IP addresses, and every single one was about his "first love."

[Year one apart: She told me shed never love anyone else.]

[My Victoria got married today. But she came to see me on her wedding night. She flew ten thousand miles just to spend it in my arms. She brought me a five-carat ring. How is this not our wedding night?]

So that was it. That night ten years ago, Victoria had claimed there was a "corporate emergency" right after the reception. She had left in such a hurry she hadn't even taken off her veil.

My vision blurred.

[She came to see me again. She brought lilies her husband grew in his garden and put them on our nightstand. Victoria, is this our version of 'happily ever after'?]

The comments were a sea of heart-eye emojis.

[The way he writes about her... you can feel the soul in every word.]

[First loves always win.]

She told me she loved lilies. I had spent months tending to our greenhouse, hand-picking the best blooms for her to take to her office. I never imagined they were being used as decor for her trysts.

I scrolled through years of his updates. Inside the ballroom, the old class was laughing and drinking. I stepped into a quiet corner and FaceTimed my best friend, Jordan.

"I thought you were at the reunion with the Ice Queen?" Jordan said, his brow furrowing at my expression. "Miles, what happened?"

I let out a ragged laugh. "Jordan, Im done. I want a divorce."

Jordan slammed his fist onto a table. "Finally! Thank God. I'll have the papers ready by morning. You're finally coming to your senses."

"And... I'm going back," I whispered. "I'm going back to the St. James estate."

The door to the lounge swung open. Victoria and a man named Sebastian Cole walked in, one after the other. I hung up the phone.

The room went quiet for a second before a few women started giggling.

"Look at that. Sebastian still has a thing for the Queen Bee."

"Can you blame him? They were the 'it' couple back then. No one expected Victoria to end up with someone as... unremarkable as Miles."

Victoria walked over and sat beside me. Noticing my red eyes, she reached out and cupped my face with practiced concern. "Whats wrong, honey? Did someone say something to you?"

I thought of the "picking on" I had just heard in the stairwell. My heart felt like it was being shredded.

"Victoria," I said quietly. "Do you remember The Dying Star?"

She stiffened. Her eyes instinctively darted toward Sebastian.

"Its in the family vault, Miles. Its too special to wear out. Why are you bringing that up now?"

"I designed it specifically for you," I said. "Its a brooch. Ive never once seen you wear it."

Her smile faltered. She looked away, smoothing her skirt. "You know I don't like flashy things. It's too loud for my style."

"Besides," she added, "it's your masterpiece. It belongs in a safe where it can be preserved forever."

Not your style?

Then why was it pinned to her lapel in the photos Sebastian posted on his profile?

In our home, Victorias wardrobe was a desert of black, white, and grey.

But on Sebastians feed, she wore vibrant colors. She went deep-sea fishing with him, caught crabs, and stayed out until dawn laughing under the sun.

Victoria and I had traveled together exactly once. Our honeymoon.

It had been a miserable, lonely month.

"Do you remember," I asked softly, "when I asked to go see the Northern Lights for our honeymoon?"

Sebastian, who was clinking glasses with a guy next to me, suddenly slid into the seat across from us. "Did you guys go to see the Aurora? What a coincidence! I went with my girlfriend too!"

"She chartered a private yacht. We huddled together on the deck under the lights. It was the most romantic thing I've ever experienced."

I forced a smile. "What a shame. We never went."

"My wife said she hates the cold. Said high latitudes were depressing."

Sebastians eyes locked onto Victoria, his grin widening.

"Thats too bad. You really should go. Legend says couples who see the lights together stay together forever."

"My girl is terrified of the cold too, but the second I told her about the legend, she was the one who planned the whole itinerary."

"She took care of everythingthe food, the drinks, the gear. Me? Im lazy. I like the fun, but I hate the logistics."

The men around us cheered.

"Man, your girl sounds like a saint."

"How do you get this lucky, Sebastian? When is it my turn?"

Sebastians cheeks were flushed with wine and triumph.

"Ive got a weak constitution," he bragged. "I get sick easily, so she had every possible medication ready for me. If I even leaned too close to the railing, shed grab me, terrified Id fall in."

The table erupted in laughter.

"But Im stubborn," he continued, glancing at Victoria. "I wanted to see the ocean. So she just kept one arm around me the whole time while she took photos with the other. Shes clingy like that."

Beside me, Victoria looked down and chuckled softly.

I remembered our honeymoon. She spent every day on "conference calls."

We barely spent two hours together.

When I wanted to take a photo, she said she wasn't good with cameras.

When I wanted to walk on the beach, she said the tide was dangerous.

Our one-month honeymoon ended ten days early.

I ended up in a hospital with acute gastritis from a bad meal, lying in a sterile bed for a week.

She told me she had an "emergency board meeting" and flew home two days before I was even discharged.

A few classmates noticed the tension and shouted, "Sebastian, you were the star of the school. How did we not know you were seeing someone?"

"Come on, spill. How did you two meet?"

Victoria leaned back against the leather booth, casually draping an arm over my shoulder, watching Sebastian with an indulgent smile.

Sebastian twirled a strand of his hair.

"Weve known each other forever. Longer than Ive known any of you."

"She was my first love. Weve had our ups and downs, but we always find our way back."

Ooh

The crowd started whistling and catcalling.

Several meaningful glances were thrown Victorias way. People started sizing me up, whispering.

"His first love? Thats definitely Victoria."

"Miles wasn't even in our social circle back then. Marrying her was the ultimate social climb."

"Hes nothing compared to Sebastian. Sebastian has the pedigree. He actually fits her world."

I thought about the year I spent carving The Dying Star. My mother had given me a raw blue diamond.

I spent months in the studio, my hands covered in nicks and cuts.

That brooch was literally stained with my blood.

And she had handed it to a charlatan so he could play the part of a tortured artist.

I shrugged Victorias arm off my shoulder and stood up.

"I don't feel well. I'm going home."

Victoria reached for my hand. "Honey, I'll drive you."

Sebastian pulled her back by the arm. "Don't go yet, Victoria. Let Miles take an Uber. Hes a big boy; he won't get lost."

Someone else chimed in, "Yeah, we missed you, Vic! Sit down, lets catch up properly."

Victoria looked at me with a performative sigh of helplessness. "Fine. Be careful on the way home, Miles."

The second I got into the car, I sent her a text: Victoria, I want a divorce.