Mortgage Paid, Husband’s First Love Moved In

The day we finally paid off the mortgage, I cooked a lavish dinner to celebrate.

With the paid-in-full notice in my hand, I sat by candlelight and waited for my husband, Mark, for three whole hours.

When he finally came home, he reeked of cheap, cloyingly sweet perfume.

There was no surprise, no hug.

He pulled out a chair and sat, his eyes darting away from mine, but his tone was firm.

Raina, you need to move out of the master bedroom.

The wine glass in my hand froze. I thought Id misheard him.

What did you say?

He loosened his tie, his voice laced with irritation. Serenas back. Shes been diagnosed with severe depression, and shes in a really bad state.

Serena? Marks first love?

Shell be living with us from now on. I need to spend time with her after work every day. The master bedroom gets the best light; its better for her recovery.

A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. A chill ran down my spine.

When did you get back in touch?

He looked up at me then, his eyes holding no guilt, only exhaustion. Remember last year when you were in the hospital, and I went back to my hometown for money?

We ran into each other at the station. She was so thin she was unrecognizable, just shivering on a bench. The moment I held her again, I knew. I knew Id never gotten over her.

I laughed, a laugh so bitter it brought tears to my eyes.

For seven years, I, a senior actuary, had calculated every cent of our mortgage. Id factored in compound interest, inflation, and every single penny we could save by paying it off early.

But I had missed one crucial variable: Marks conscience. Or lack thereof.

I had been with him since we had nothing, eating the cheapest instant noodles, living in a dark, damp basement apartment. I poured every bonus I ever earned into this house, working myself into the ground until my body gave out.

And now, on the very night our mortgage was paid, he was telling me he was moving his ex-girlfriend in.

Mark, what do you take me for? My voice trembled. I was the one who worked until I was hospitalized with a bleeding stomach. Dont you remember that I was in a bad state?

He avoided my gaze, his eyes fixed on the pattern of the rug. Raina, dont bring up the past. You were young then, you were strong. You pushed through it.

But Serenas different. Shes had a rough few years. She just got divorced, walked away with nothing. She doesnt even have a place to stay.

He stood up so abruptly his chair scraped back, his voice turning cold and hard.

Raina, for years, what Ive felt for you is gratitude. I owe you. I know that.

We were poor back then, but all our friends and family knew wed made a life for ourselves in the city. I admit, I was vain. I thought I could just settle, and spend the rest of my life with you. But then she got sick.

I cant just watch her die. Dont you understand?

As he spoke, he walked towards our bedroom and began yanking my things out with brutal efficiency. My skincare products, the scented candle we made together on our seventh anniversaryhe tossed them into the hallway like garbage. A bottle of expensive face cream rolled away, the lid popping off and splattering its contents across the floor.

Are you insane?! I lunged forward to stop him.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Marks expression instantly softened, his eyes filled with a tender, almost desperate urgency. He shoved past me and strode to the door.

Standing on the threshold was a woman in a long white dress, her face pale, a battered suitcase in her hand.

This was Serena. The one that got away, the ghost hed cherished for a decade.

She leaned weakly against the doorframe. Mark, is Raina angry? Maybe I should just go. I can find a spot under a bridge or something. I dont want to ruin your relationship.

Her voice was as faint as a whisper, but it was enough to make Marks face darken.

Right in front of me, he swept her up into his arms.

He carried her toward the bed we had spent three months choosing together. Our marital bed, where I hadnt even had the chance to enjoy a single nights peaceful sleep, free from the weight of our mortgage.

Without a backward glance, he carried her into the master bedroom and slammed the door shut.

I stood alone in the empty living room, surrounded by the wreckage of my life, a piercing pain in my heart.

I gathered my scattered belongings, my hand on the doorknob, ready to leave. But then I stopped.

I had bled for this house. Why should I be the one to run away?

I wasn't going anywhere. I would not surrender my home.

I was going to see just how shameless they could be.

The next morning, I was jolted awake by the acrid smell of medicinal herbs.

I opened my eyes on the narrow sofa, my entire spine aching as if it had been twisted out of place. The sound of clattering came from the kitchen. I pushed myself up and walked over.

The sight that greeted me made me tremble with rage.

Serena was wearing my silk nightgownthe one Id never even brought myself to wear. She was casually stirring a dark concoction in a pot.

Who said you could wear my clothes? I snapped.

She jumped, startled. The spoon slipped from her hand, splattering black droplets of the brew. Raina, Mark said you had so many clothes, and I didnt bring anything to change into. I just grabbed one. It looks pretty old, so I thought you wouldnt mind.

I stared at her pathetic act, strode over, and snatched the spoon from her hand. Take it off. And get out.

Her eyes welled up, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. Im sorry, Raina. Ill change right now. Please dont be angry. My heart starts to hurt whenever I get stressed

As she spoke, she deliberately nudged the bowl of medicine on the counter. It tipped, and the dark, thick liquid spilled all over the designer handbag I had sitting therethe bag Id saved for six months to buy as a reward for a promotion.

My heart ached. I grabbed the bowl and, in one swift motion, flung the remaining liquid at her feet.

Ah! she shrieked, collapsing to the floor.

The master bedroom door flew open. Mark rushed out, not even bothering to put on shoes. He shoved me aside with such force that I slammed into the corner of the refrigerator.

Raina, have you lost your mind?! You know shes sick!

He turned and frantically checked Serenas feet, even though the skin was only slightly red where the liquid had splashed.

Mark, it was my fault. I was clumsy, Serena sobbed, leaning into his arms. I accidentally dirtied Rainas bag She has every right to be angry with me

Mark shot to his feet and slapped me across the face.

The blow was heavy. My ear rang, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

Where are your manners? Shes severely depressed! Are you so cruel you have to bully a sick woman?

I stared at the man I had known for seven years. The man who had warmed my hands and cooked me porridge in our freezing basement apartment now wore the face of a complete stranger.

Mark bent down, lifted Serena into his arms, and carried her back to the bedroom, tossing a final, sneering remark over his shoulder.

Wipe that calculating look off your face. Its disgusting.

I leaned against the wall to steady myself and let out a hollow laugh.

I opened my banking app and checked our recent transactions. The five-thousand-dollar bonus that was supposed to go into our joint account was gone. Mark had withdrawn it.

I pushed open the bedroom door. He was gently dabbing at the stains on Serenas feet.

Where is it? What did you do with my five-thousand-dollar bonus?

Mark didnt even look up. Serena needs money for her treatments and some supplements. Your bonus was for the emergency fund. His voice was casual, entitled. And on your way home from work, pick up some premium nutritional supplements. Shes weak and needs to build up her strength.

It wasnt a request. It was an order.

He was using my hard-earned money to support his long-lost love. And now he was treating me like an errand girl.

What a perfect plan.

I looked at the woman on the bed, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips, and my fists clenched.

Before the sting of the slap had even faded, my mother-in-law burst through the door, carrying bags of groceries.

Mark had never told me she was coming.

She walked in with a wide smile, but it wasn't for me. It was for Serena, who was just emerging from the master bedroom.

Oh, my poor, dear daughter-in-law! Youve suffered so much. She threw her arms around Serena, her voice dripping with affection.

I stood to the side, invisible. An outsider in my own home.

Mom, what are you doing here? I asked coldly.

Her head whipped around, and her smile vanished. She pointed a finger in my face. What do you mean, what am I doing here? If I didnt come, my grandson would be cursed to death by a wicked woman like you! She stomped over to me, spitting as she yelled. Raina, dont think youre so special just because you make a little money. Youre just a useless, barren hen who cant even lay an egg! Mark should have gotten rid of you years ago!

I was shaking with fury. I made the down payment on this house! And I paid the bulk of the mortgage! I turned to Mark. Tell your mother to be clear. Whos the barren hen?

Mark just scowled, shielding Serena behind him. Thats enough. Moms just looking out for me. Does it really matter who paid for the house?

If it werent for me, you wouldnt even have a foothold in this city! Stop making everything about money. Its so crass.

Looking at the ugly faces of this family, the last flicker of warmth in my heart died.

Lets get a divorce, I said, my voice flat.

Mark froze for a second, then sneered. Fine. Get out. You wont get a single penny.

He was sure I wouldnt dare leave him. In his eyes, I had nothing and no one but him.

I didn't say another word. I walked into the study and locked the door.

With trembling hands, I turned on Marks old phone, the one Id given him when I upgraded. He hadn't logged out of his social media. Message after message popped up from his family group chat.

Skimming through, my blood ran cold.

Mark had posted a photo of Serena with a slightly rounded belly. The caption read: Were finally going to be parents.

Below, a chorus of relatives cheered. His mother had sent several large digital red envelopes.

So-called severe depression. It was all a lie to cover up a three-month pregnancy.

They wanted me to keep slaving away, to pay for the upbringing of their illegitimate child.

Just then, a violent wave of nausea hit me.

I ran to the bathroom and was violently sick. A strange, sinking feeling washed over me.

I put on a mask and went to a nearby private clinic alone.

Two hours later, the doctor looked at my test results.

Ms. Reed, youre two months pregnant. Your hormone levels are a little unstable, though. Youll need to rest.

I walked out into the long hospital corridor, the flimsy piece of paper clutched in my hand.

And there, just down the hall, outside the obstetrics clinic, I saw him.

Mark was tenderly peeling a grape and placing it in Serenas mouth.

His mother sat beside them, beaming. Once we get that Reed woman out of the picture with nothing, well have the wedding, she schemed. We need to do it soon. Serenas belly will be showing, and it wont look good in a wedding dress.