The Birthday Gift from My Husband

The shoes Guillermo gave me for my birthday were the wrong size.
I was silent for a long moment before I finally asked for a divorce.
He was bewildered. “Over something so small?”
“Getting me size 7s when I’m a 6 is a small thing,” I said, my voice flat.
“Forgetting our anniversary is also a small thing.”
“Losing your wedding ring, another small thing.”
“And you having lunch with your college crush while I was in surgery… I suppose that’s a small thing, too.”
I pushed the shoe box back into his hands.
“Tell me, Guillermo. What exactly counts as a big deal to you?”
My voice was quiet, but it cut through the air between us. “Let’s get a divorce. Please make some time to go to the courthouse this week.”
Guillermo rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, the picture of weary patience. “Honey, don’t be like this.”
We’d thrown the word ‘divorce’ around in arguments more times than I could count over the years. He assumed this time was like all the others—a lot of thunder, but no rain.
He didn't realize the storm had finally broken until I placed the signed separation agreement on the table in front of him.

1
Guillermo and I had been married for seven years.
In those seven years, he’d climbed his way up from nothing, a scrappy entrepreneur who fought through countless setbacks to become the tech wunderkind he was today. Everyone envied me for snagging such a promising stock.
And by all traditional measures, Guillermo was a good husband. He always told me where he was going, and even after making his fortune, his name was never linked to a single scandal.
Logically, I should have been content. Isn't that what they say online? A rich husband who's never home is the dream.
I tried to tell myself that for a long time.
Until I had to be hospitalized recently. It wasn’t anything major, just a small surgery to remove a nasal polyp. But it was my first time going under, and anxiety had been chewing at me for days.
Guillermo was swamped with work, and as I tried to explain my fears, his patience wore thin.
“It’s a minor procedure, Olivia. Don't be so dramatic.”
His words froze me. Of course, I knew it was a minor procedure. But I’m just a normal person, and normal people have an instinctual fear of the unknown. All I wanted was a little reassurance from him.
He must have realized he’d gone too far, because he apologized immediately. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll be there with you tomorrow. I promise.”
But in the end, he broke that promise.
He wasn’t there when I woke up from the anesthesia. He never came.
Instead, his assistant showed up with a bouquet of flowers and an awkward smile. “Mrs. Anderson, there was an emergency meeting. Guillermo had to fly to London.”
I glanced at my phone. The screen was dark, empty. Not a single text.
I couldn't pinpoint when he’d become so stingy with his affection that even a simple message was too much to ask for.
I forced a bitter smile. “Okay. I understand.”
Guillermo knew better than anyone that in this city, he was the only person I had to rely on.
After the anesthesia wore off, a throbbing pain pulsed through my sinuses. I wanted to scream, to sob, but all I could do was bury my face in my pillow and choke back quiet tears.
I didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but when I finally looked up, a figure in a white coat materialized in the doorway, hands shoved casually into his pockets.
My vision was blurry with tears. It was a doctor.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice calm and gentle.
I blinked, my mind slowly clearing. As his face came into focus, a jolt went through me. It was a face I never expected to see again.
A thousand memories flashed through my mind, and a hot blush crept up my neck. “No, I’m fine. Thank you,” I stammered.
He watched me for a long moment, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes, before sighing softly and walking closer.
“Then why are you crying?”
I pointed a shaky finger to my nose. “It hurts.”
I had imagined running into Ethan Cole again a million times, but never like this—a pathetic, tear-stained mess in a hospital gown.
He drew a small penlight from his pocket and clicked it on. “Tilt your head up. Let me take a look.”
Numbly, I obeyed, letting him conduct his examination.
“It looks fine,” he said, his voice reassuring. “I’ll get you some painkillers. Take one if it gets really bad.” He paused, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And try not to cry into your pillow. It’s not good for the healing process. If you need anything, just call. I’m on duty tonight.”
I was completely stunned. All I could manage was a weak nod.
My mind was racing. When had Ethan moved back from abroad? If I had known he was working at this hospital, I would have gone anywhere else.
Thankfully, he was considerate enough to leave after the check-up, giving me space to process.

2
I was in the hospital for three days. For three days, it was as if Guillermo had vanished from the face of the earth.
The next time I saw any news of him, it was on a trending topic on Instagram.
A rising starlet named Alana had posted a photo that set the internet on fire. Her caption was playful: Finally got to have that dinner with my old college mentor! followed by a cutesy, tongue-out emoji.
In the photo, a man’s wrist was clearly visible. On his hand was a ring—the one I had custom-made for him.
The comments section exploded with well-wishes.
Alana had already gained a legion of fans after her private account was leaked. Everyone knew the story: the glamorous actress was secretly just a shy girl, hopelessly in love with an upperclassman from her past. Her private feed was a shrine to him, filled with poetic entries detailing her unrequited love through high school and college.
Even her username, @ChasingTheAura, was a nod to him.
The story had been dormant for years, ever since her private account went public. Now, with this new post, the unrequited love story had a sequel. The internet crowned it the most epic crush of all time.
Her fans, never ones to miss an opportunity, egged her on.
【OMG GIRL, GO FOR IT!】
【Get together! Get together!】
【Alana, follow your heart!】
【Did she finally get her man?!】
The post trended all day. It didn't take long for sharp-eyed netizens to notice the wedding band on the man's ring finger.
A married mentor and the innocent starlet. The story was too juicy to ignore.
The speculation intensified as more details were dug up. The ring's unique design had only been seen on one person: Guillermo Anderson, the celebrated new genius of the tech world.
Soon, Guillermo's bio was all over the web, and he and Alana were trending together. The scandal was so big that the topic was forcibly scrubbed from the trending list.
And through it all, Guillermo—the man at the center of the storm—offered no explanation.
I stared at the circus on my phone, a hollow laugh escaping my lips.
Three days passed. No call from him. No text. No explanation.
A few nights later, he came home as if nothing had happened. He looked exhausted, his usually perfect hair disheveled.
“Babe, I’m so sorry. Things have been insane at work. I haven’t been able to check in.”
He didn't mention the hospital. He didn't mention the scandal.
My eyes fell on his left hand. His ring finger was bare. A surge of cold anger washed over me.
“Where’s your ring?”
He instinctively glanced at his hand, his voice suddenly strained. “I… I lost it.”
Lost it? Or got rid of it? Only he knew the truth.
The rush of emotion made my sinuses ache. I massaged the bridge of my nose, too tired to fight. We’d had this same argument, or variations of it, for years. I was done.
As I turned to leave, Guillermo grabbed my arm. “The stuff online… I can explain.”
“Liv,” he said, his voice earnest. “Alana is just… we knew each other in college. We were both in London at the same time, so we had dinner. That’s it.”
“Nothing happened between us. I swear.”
A cynical smile touched my lips. “Then why not just say that? One press release would have cleared it up. Why kill the story and let the rumors run wild?”
He sighed heavily. “Alana’s career is just taking off. I couldn’t risk ruining it for her.”
I let out a short, sharp laugh. “She’s the one who created this mess, isn't she? If her career gets ruined, she has no one to blame but herself. And besides, how would a simple clarification destroy her career? That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”
“Liv, don’t be so cruel.”
I couldn’t believe those words came from the man I’d been married to for seven years.
For the first time in a long time, I completely lost control. “Cruel?” I yelled, my voice shaking with rage. “You want to talk about cruel? My husband disappears while I’m in the hospital having surgery, only to pop up in London having a cozy dinner with his little admirer, and you have the nerve to call me cruel? You’re disgusting, Guillermo.”
I ripped my arm from his grasp. “Get out. I’m done with you.”
I had become so numb over the years, so emotionally stable. This raw, screaming version of myself felt like a stranger. A deep sadness settled in my chest. When had we become this?
A flash of panic crossed Guillermo’s face. He pulled me into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m so sorry.”
I pried his fingers off me, one by one. My voice was chillingly calm. “I think we both need some space to cool off.”
The ugly, contorted face I had just seen in his eyes was one I never wanted to see again.

3
Following the fight, Guillermo and I entered a deep freeze. We didn’t speak for nearly a month.
It was his mother who finally noticed something was wrong. She arranged a dinner party, using my upcoming birthday as an excuse to get us in the same room.
Guillermo was running late, as usual, so his mother and I sat in the living room alone.
“Olivia, you and Guillermo have been through so much together, from the very beginning,” she said gently. “I know he’s neglected you these past few years while building his company, and I know that’s been hard on you. But I want you to know, that boy has always been stubborn. He’s not good with words, and he never explains himself when there’s a misunderstanding. But, Olivia, he truly has you in his heart.”
Guillermo’s mother was one of those rare, perfect mothers-in-law. She respected boundaries. In all our years of marriage, she never once made a single demand of me. Her philosophy was that a marriage belongs to the couple, and outsiders should stay out. She lived by it.
For her to be playing peacemaker now meant that Guillermo must have gone to her for help.
Her concern felt genuine, so I decided to be honest.
“But, Mom,” I began, my voice quiet, “I got married because I wanted a home. A place where we could eat our terrible home-cooked meals together, read useless books on the couch together, wander aimlessly on weekends together. A place where we could live out all our ordinary, boring days… together.”
My voice cracked. “But what do I have now? I eat alone. I get sick alone. I lie in a hospital bed alone. When I have good news to share, or when I need a shoulder to cry on, he’s never there. What’s the point of a marriage like that?”
I’d asked myself that question a thousand times. What was the point?
Friends told me to hold on tight to Guillermo, this rising star. They said he was headed for greatness, and my status would rise with him. That our future children would have a head start in life that others could only dream of.
“So what if he cheats on me one day?” I asked them. “Am I supposed to just close my eyes and forgive him?”
They’d fall silent, stammering about how marriage eventually becomes about companionship, not passion.
But they forgot one thing: I had a perfectly good career of my own. I didn't need to cling to his tree to survive.
All I ever wanted was a home.
And now I knew, with painful certainty, that he couldn't give me one. I didn't need to console myself with platitudes about companionship when my husband’s heart had already moved on. When the love is gone, it’s gone. Why disguise it as something else?
Guillermo’s mother was quiet for a long time. Finally, she patted my hand. “My dear child, you’ve been through too much.”
Her words were the final crack in my dam. Tears welled in my eyes. Yes, I felt sorry for myself. How had I let my life become this empty?
The family dinner was supposed to start at six-thirty, but with Guillermo’s absence, it was postponed indefinitely.
At eight, Guillermo’s father finally declared, “We’re not waiting for him any longer. Let’s eat.”
The housekeeper reheated the dishes, offering me a placating smile as she noticed my somber expression. “Good things come to those who wait,” she chirped.
At eight-thirty, Guillermo finally arrived.
He sounded genuinely apologetic. “Sorry, everyone. A last-minute meeting came up.”
I smiled, a sharp, humorless thing. “See, Mom, Dad? Everything else always comes before us.”
Guillermo always had another meeting, another conference call. He was never on time for a family gathering. Not even for my birthday.
He walked over, holding a gift bag. “Honey, I’m so sorry I’m late. Happy birthday.” He handed it to me. “Look, they just came in. It’s that pair of heels you love.”
I had mentioned loving those shoes months ago. They weren't available in the States, and every time he traveled abroad, I’d asked him to look for them. He never had.
With his parents watching, I had no choice but to take the box, forcing a tight smile.
The packaging was exquisite. Tucked inside was a handwritten card.
Dear Olivia,
May you be happy every day.
I glanced at the card, then back at him, my smile turning into a smirk. “Who’s Olivia?”
I shoved the card back into his hand. “Give this to your Olivia.”
Without another word, I turned and walked out of the dining room.
From the hallway, I could hear his parents’ hushed voices.
“Guillermo, work is endless. You need to make time for Olivia.”
Guillermo’s low voice replied, “I know. Once the company goes public, I’ll…”
I didn’t bother listening to the rest.
This villa was one Guillermo had bought for his parents after he made his first fortune. I rarely visited, and tonight was the first time I’d really taken in the backyard garden. I sat on the swing, staring blankly at the rows of blooming roses.
My phone buzzed. A link from a friend I hadn’t spoken to in years. It was a post from an entertainment blogger. Her text came with a single, cutting remark.
“Looks like someone else didn’t get their fairy-tale ending after all.”
She used to be my best friend.
I ignored her and clicked the link.
The blogger’s post was pure speculation, written with breathless excitement: “AuraTech’s new drone is being endorsed by Alana! Has anyone considered that Alana might actually be the CEO’s wife? Maybe her Instagram post was a secret announcement!”
Attached was a paparazzi photo of Alana sitting in a car outside the AuraTech headquarters, sunglasses on, laughing brightly at the man in the driver's seat.
The top comment read: 【I SHIP IT! Put me down for a $200 wedding gift, and put it on Guillermo Anderson’s tab!】
I liked the comment, then closed the app.
When I turned, Guillermo was standing right behind me. His face was pale, but his eyes were dark and intense.
“Liv, are you really just going to ignore me?” he asked, his voice low. “Can you give me ten minutes? I can explain everything.”
I looked up at him. “Fine. I’m listening.”
“I asked Alana to buy the shoes for me,” he said, the words rushing out. “She was flying back today, so I had her pick them up. The salesclerk must have thought they were for her and wrote that card.”
A small, incredulous laugh escaped my lips. “And what’s the explanation for the size 7s? Don’t tell me our great CEO doesn’t even know his own wife’s shoe size.”
He looked like a child caught in a lie.
“I’m sorry.”
I stared at him for a long, silent moment. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said again, the words feeling more real, more solid this time.

4
Guillermo looked at me, his face a mask of disbelief.
“Over something so small?” he repeated, his voice strained.
I reached out and plucked a single, perfect rose from the bush beside the swing. It had a faint, sweet scent. My sense of smell had been dull for years, a side effect of the polyps, but since the surgery, it was slowly returning.
Which meant I could now clearly smell the subtle, expensive perfume clinging to his shirt.
And I never wear perfume.
I stated the facts calmly, one by one. “Getting my shoe size wrong is a small thing.”
“Forgetting our anniversary is a small thing.”
“Losing your wedding ring is a small thing.”
“Disappearing to have a date with your old crush while I was having surgery… that is also a small thing.”
My gaze flickered to the shoe box I’d discarded on the grass.
“Tell me, Guillermo. In your world, what counts as a big deal?”
“Let’s get a divorce. Please make time this week to go to the courthouse.”

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