My Wedding Gift Was His Wife

The wedding was less than twenty-four hours away, but there I was, standing in the hallway of a luxury condo Id found through a last-minute listing. The price had just plummeted, and in this market, I couldn't afford not to look.

The door opened to reveal a woman who was young, radiant, and glowing with a flush that hadn't come from a bottle.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said, smoothing her silk robe. She offered a small, knowing smile. "My husband insisted on a FaceTime call. We got a little distracted."

She led me into the living room, her voice a steady stream of sweet, casual complaints about him. She told me how hed just bought a massive penthouse uptowninsisting they needed floor-to-ceiling windows for "the right romantic atmosphere"which made this place redundant. That was why she was selling it so cheap.

I was about to offer a polite compliment about how attentive her husband sounded when my breath caught. My entire world narrowed down to a single point on the gallery wall.

There, framed in heavy gold, was a wedding portrait. The man in the photo, wearing a smile I had woken up to for seven years, was Simon.

The same Simon who was supposed to stand at the altar with me tomorrow.

In that heartbeat, the blood in my veins turned to ice. My hands went numb, the keys in my pocket feeling like lead.

She noticed me staring. A prideful, shimmering laugh escaped her lips.

"Hes handsome, isn't he? Simon practically chased me for six months before I said yes." ChloeI remembered her name from the listing nowstroked the edge of the frame. "He bought me this place as a 'thank you' for finally agreeing to be his. The deed is entirely in my name. Cash closing."

I nodded, my brain stuttering.

I remembered a stretch of time last year when Simon, a man who usually lived in wrinkled flannels, suddenly started obsessing over his skin-care routine and tailored shirts. Id teased him about having a mid-life crisis. I didnt realize he was playing the role of the smitten suitor for a girl ten years younger than me.

I didnt realize hed already walked down an aisle.

Chloe adjusted her robe, but not before I saw the dark, blooming bruises of love bites across her collarbone.

"Don't let the suit fool you," she whispered, her eyes dancing with a cruel sort of intimacy. "Hes a beast in bed. Half the time, I cant even make it out of the house the next morning."

I blinked, my eyes stinging. I looked around the room. It was filled with ghosts of a life I thought was mine. The plush velvet sofa was the exact model Simon and I had looked at, the one he said was 'too expensive' for our tiny rental. The espresso machine, the organic linen throwseverything in this high-end condo was a premium version of the life we shared in our 500-square-foot walk-up.

It hit me then, a dull ache behind my ribs: my life was just the low-budget rehearsal for this.

While I was staying up late worrying about his "business trips" and "overtime shifts," he was here, cocooned in luxury with his secret bride.

"Here," Chloe said, handing me a folder. "You can check the title. Simon said he wanted us to have a 'real' marital home, but he knew I needed to feel secure, so he put his savings into this for me."

I opened the folder. The date on the purchase agreement felt like a physical blow to the stomach.

Two years ago.

Right after our engagement. We had saved every penny for a down payment. Then, Simon had come home looking devastated, telling me a "crypto investment" had wiped him out. I didn't hesitate. I gave him my entire savings to help him "settle the debt." I worked three jobs to make up the difference. I worked until I was so exhausted I miscarried our first child at eight weeks.

And all that time, my moneyour "future"was paying for Chloes security.

Two years. Seven hundred and thirty days of lies. Enough time for a child to have been born and taken its first steps.

"Ma'am?" A housekeeper appeared at the kitchen island, her voice soft. "Mr. Sterling insisted you eat before he gets back. For the baby."

Chloe turned to me, a dainty, apologetic smile on her face. "Sorry. Im three months along, and Simon is absolutely neurotic about my nutrition. Hes obsessed."

My voice came out like gravel. "Youre pregnant?"

She rubbed her belly, her expression softening into something genuinely maternal. "Thirteen weeks. He cried when I told him. Hes already picked out a nickname. Peanut."

Peanut.

When I was pregnant, Simon had spun me around the kitchen, crying with joy. Hed spent nights scrolling through baby name sites. When I lost the baby, hed held me in the hospital bed, sobbing that "wed have another chance."

He wasn't wrong. The chance had come. It just wasn't for me. Hed even stolen the nickname we had picked out in the dark of our bedroom and gifted it to her.

The front door clicked.

"Chloe? Did Peanut let you sleep in today, or was he"

Simon stopped dead.

The color drained from his face, a flicker of raw panic crossing his features before his mask slammed back into place. He walked right past me as if I were a shadow, sitting down next to Chloe and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"We have company?" he asked, his voice tight. "I told you not to open the door to strangers."

Chloe giggled, looping her arm through his. "Shes here about the listing. See? I told you I could handle the sale myself."

Simon forced a laugh, his eyes never meeting mine. "My girl is the best."

A hollow, echoing void opened up in my chest. Just yesterday, Id told him I found a great deal on a condo and asked if he wanted to see it. Hed snapped at me, telling me he was too stressed with work to deal with my "fantasies."

I turned and walked out. I didn't say a word.

The winter air hit me like a physical blade. I walked until my face felt frozen, the tears turning into a mask of ice on my cheeks.

When I finally got back to our apartment, he was there. Waiting.

He stood up as I entered and reached for my hands, trying to tuck them into his chest the way he always did when I was cold. "Maya, you're freezing. Where have you"

I wrenched my hands away.

Looking at the "worry" in his eyes, I started to laugh. It was a jagged, ugly sound. Tears began to splash onto the hardwood.

"Maya, don't," he whispered, reaching out to wipe my face. He pulled a small box from behind his backa matcha cake from the bakery I loved. "I only married her because of the baby. Youre the one I want to be with. Youve always been the one."

I pushed his hand away, my entire body shaking. "The wedding photos are real, Simon. The deed is real. The baby in her stomach is real."

His face hardened. He tossed the cake onto the table, his gaze turning sharp and defensive. "Are you really going to hold this over me? I had to be responsible. I couldn't let my child be a 'mistake' on a birth certificate."

The pain was a white-hot spike. When I was pregnant, I had begged him to just go to the courthouse. I didn't need a party. I just wanted our baby to have a family. Hed stalled. Hed made excuses. Then the baby was gone, and the "need" for the courthouse vanished.

But for Chloe, he couldn't wait.

"Shes been in your life for two years, and she got everything I spent seven years begging for," I said. "And youre asking me if Im 'holding it over you'?"

He let out a frustrated breath and pulled a legal document from his bag. He slid it across the table.

"If you want that condo so bad, fine. Sign this. Im transferring the title to you. Consider it a settlement."

I looked at the paper. For years, I had obsessively saved every cent for a home. Id spent nights calculating interest rates, dreaming of what color to paint the nursery. It was the only thing that kept me going through twelve-hour shifts.

And now he was handing it to me like a consolation prize.

"What were we, Simon?" I choked out. "What were the last seven years?"

He rubbed his temples, his voice dripping with an exhausting kind of patience. "Chloe is young. Shes fragile. She needed the security of that house to feel safe with me. You you were always the strong one, Maya."

I stared at him. "So that was my mistake? Being strong?"

He gave me a cold, dismissive look. "Chloe has boundaries. She has self-respect. Our first time was our wedding night. But you? You were in a cheap motel with me when you were twenty. You set the bar low for yourself."

The words felt like a physical assault.

I looked at the man I had loved since I was a girl and remembered him crying in that "cheap motel," holding me and swearing hed spend the rest of his life making me happy. I had thought it was love. He had thought it was a transaction.

He shoved the contract into my hands. "Take the house. Chloe is pregnant. You can scream at me all you want, but don't you dare go near her again."

Even now, his priority was her peace.

His phone buzzed. His expression smoothed into something tender as he glanced at the screen. He grabbed his coat, giving me one last warning look before heading for the door.

But the door flew open before he reached it.

Chloe stormed in, her face twisted in a mask of rage. She didn't hesitateshe lunged forward and slapped me so hard my head snapped back. Her designer nails left a row of bleeding gashes on my cheek.

"You bitch!" she screamed. "Youre trying to steal my husband?"

She blew on her reddened palm, looking at me with pure disgust. "Look at you. Youre pathetic. Look at this dump you live in. You think a man like Simon wants a tired, old secretary when he has me?"

I looked at Simon. He was watching her with a terrifyingly fond expressionthe same look hed used when he proposed to me years ago. Now, I was just the background noise in his new life.

Chloe grabbed the contract from my hands and tore it into confetti, throwing the pieces in my face. "Youre not getting our house. Youre not getting him."

Simon stepped in then, gently catching her wrists. "Chloe, honey, stop. Youre pregnant. Lets just go home. Don't let the neighbors see this spectacle."

The neighbors. The spectacle. After seven years of building a life together, I was just an "outsider" causing a scene.

Chloe sobbed into his chest. "You told me you broke up with this old woman months ago! If I hadn't followed you today, I wouldn't have known you were still seeing her."

I looked up, stunned. She had known about me the whole time.

She turned her head, looking over Simons shoulder to sneer at me. "I know everything, Maya. I know you live like a pauper to save pennies. I know you couldn't even keep your own baby. A mans heart is where his money is. Look around this room, then look at my condo. Who do you think he loves?"

Simon stiffened. He put a hand over her mouth. "Thats enough."

Chloe wrenched free, her voice shrill. "Why? Its the truth. He only comes here when he wants a break from the good life. Youre just his bargain-bin habit, Maya."

Simons jaw tightened. "I said, enough."

As they left, Chloe paused to flash her marriage license at me like a weapon. "If you have any dignity left, stay away from my husband. Nobody likes a home-wrecker."

The date on the license was the day I had been home on bed rest after my miscarriage. Hed told me he was going out to get groceries to make me soup. Instead, hed gone to the courthouse to marry her.

I sat in the dark until the sun came up.

When I walked into the office the next morning, my belongings were scattered across the floor. My desk was plastered with printed signs: HOME-WRECKER. WHORE.

My manager threw a termination notice at my feet. "We don't need this kind of drama, Maya. Were a family company. Pack your things."

"I didn't do anything," I said, my voice hollow.

He laughed. "His wife sent a formal complaint. She sent photos. She sent the marriage license. Go home."

The whispers followed me out. She looked so sweet. You never really know people, do you?

When I got to my apartment complex, the walls of the lobby were covered in posters with my face on them, detailing my "affair."

I began tearing them down, my fingernails bleeding. Neighbors stood in small groups, pointing and whispering. A man from the third floor stepped into my path, a leering grin on his face. "How much for a night, honey? If you're giving it away to married guys, I'm sure we can work something out."

"Get away from me!" I screamed.

He grabbed my arm, his face turning ugly. "Don't act like a lady now. I saw the posters."

A hand clamped onto the mans wrist. I looked up, seeing the familiar red braided bracelet on the newcomer's arm. "Simon!" I cried, grabbing his sleeve. "Tell them! Tell them weve been together for seven years! Tell them Im not the mistress!"

Simon shoved me away. His eyes were burning with a cold, frantic rage.

"I told you to stay away from Chloe!" he hissed. "Shes in the hospital because of the stress you caused her! She almost lost the baby today!"

"I didn't do anything to her!"

"I don't care! These posters? This is what happens when you mess with my family. Don't think your 'seven years' gives you the right to harass my wife."

He turned and walked away, his words solidifying the lie for everyone watching. I was the villain.

My phone rang. It was my mother, her voice hysterical.

"Maya people are here. Theyre outside the house with a megaphone, calling you names your father he collapsed. Its his heart, Maya. Were in the ER"

The world tilted. I ran for the street, waving down a taxi. I had to get to the station. I had to get home.

"Please," I sobbed to the driver. "Faster. Please."

I saw the semi-truck lose control before I felt it. The roar of twisting metal filled the air. I reached for my phone, my thumb hitting the speed dial.

Then, the world went black.

Simon was sitting in the hospital cafeteria, picking at a salad while Chloe slept upstairs, when his phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

He almost ignored it, but something made him swipe right. "Hello?"

"Is this Mr. Matcha?" a voice asked, hesitant.

The name hit him like a physical blow. It was the private nickname Maya had given him on their first date at a hole-in-the-wall tea shop. It was the name she used for him in her secondary phonethe one she kept for just the two of them.

"Maya?" he gasped.