Uncle's Leftovers

My life took a devastating turn when I was eighteen.

I fell madly in love with Mike Maxwell, a thirty-five-year-old widower.

To be with him, I abandoned the ballet career I valued more than my own life and turned down a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study in Paris.

I even ignored my parents' furious warnings and tearful pleas, ruthlessly cutting all ties with them.

But then, the fantasy shattered.

I caught Mike red-handed, holding another woman in his arms. They were laughing without a care in the world.

I heard him whisper in her ear that girls who danced ballet were just a bit more flexible, and that after marriage, all women were exactly the same. He told her I couldn't even compare to her little finger.

Watching that scene, I didn't throw a hysterical fit. I didn't shed a single tear.

Taking a page right out of his playbook, I turned around and became the sugar mommy of a handsome, young college student named Declan.

Everything was perfect until one night when Declan got dead drunk.

Through his slurred, drunken haze, I heard him call Mike "Uncle."

He mumbled, "Uncle, I did exactly what you asked. I played with her feelings. You better treat Phoebe like a goddamn queen from now on."

Those few words felt like a bucket of ice water, completely waking me up from years of delusional dreaming.

I finally made my decision.

Mike or Declan, it didn't matter. Both of these men made me absolutely sick to my stomach.

"You have to treat Phoebe right and make her happy for the rest of her life. Otherwise, I swear to God I'll take her far away from here! If it weren't for Phoebe, there is no way in hell I would have ever helped you with this."

Having said his piece, Declan looked entirely drained. He slumped at the table, downing his drink gulp after bitter gulp.

A satisfied smirk crept onto Mike's lips. His gaze flicked toward me for barely a second before darting away.

"Relax. Phoebe is the first woman in this world to ever show me what real love tastes like. She taught me how to love, and I will never let go of her hand as long as I live."

"I only asked you to play this little part because I was worried Sylvia was too obsessed with me to ever agree to a divorce. I just didn't want my Phoebe to suffer even the slightest grievance."

I lay quietly on the velvet sofa, faking a deep, drunken sleep.

But my heart plummeted into an endless abyss. A biting cold seeped into my veins, freezing my limbs completely numb.

Mike had once poured those exact same sweet words out to me, holding nothing back.

He had held me so tight, his eyes swimming with deep affection and regret.

"Sylvia, it's such a tragedy we were born at the wrong times. We are seventeen years apart. Will you ever resent me when I get old?"

Back then, I was totally blinded by the honey trap of love. I fought my parents to the bitter end and turned a deaf ear to my friends' desperate warnings.

"Mike, I am in love with who you are, not your age. We are going to be the happiest couple in the world!"

I sounded so incredibly determined back then.

Looking back now, it was absurd to the point of being sickening.

To force me into asking for a divorce, he carefully orchestrated this entire scheme, bringing in his own nephew to run a romance scam on me.

Could there be a more grotesque joke in this world?

"Sylvia loves you? Hah! I just fed her a few sweet nothings and took her out for a couple of joyrides, and she is already dead set on me! Just watch. The second I mention marriage, she will slap those divorce papers right in your face tomorrow morning."

"A woman like Sylvia, who falls for whoever gives her the time of day, isn't even worth a strand of Phoebe's hair. She actually genuinely believes I am obsessed with her! It's hilarious!"

Declan laughed out loud, completely unbothered, entirely missing the way Mike's face instantly darkened.

Declan's gaze swept over my body with undisguised mockery. After making sure I was still passed out, he turned back to Mike.

"You really think I'd treasure the used trash you got bored of? It's just a game. Honestly, touching her makes me feel filthy."

The moment those words hit me, a sharp ache shot up my nose, and my eyes inevitably welled up. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe.

When Declan and I first met, he knew perfectly well that I was a married woman.

Back then, he would blink those innocent, clear eyes and gently pull me into his embrace. His eyes were always swimming with heartbreaking tenderness.

"Your husband clearly doesn't know how to cherish you. I don't care that you are married. I just want the right to quietly stay by your side. Can I?"

That day, I stood completely frozen for a long time. Even after I wandered home in a daze and mechanically cooked dinner for Mike, my chest still burned from the heat of his hug.

It had been so many years. The heart that had long died inside that frigid marriage felt like it was finally beating again.

Later on, every time he saw me, he brought a bouquet of vibrant red roses. I tried to push them away, tried to decline, but he would just forcefully yet gently press them into my arms.

"Sylvia, it's just a few roses. I only hate that I can't give you more right now. Once I finally take over the business, I swear I'll buy you an entire rose estate!"

Roses. How long had it been since I last received them?

Ever since I married Mike, whenever I hinted at wanting flowers, he would shoot the idea down with the most half-hearted excuses.

The only exception was the night he finished celebrating Phoebe's birthday and casually tossed a withered, dying rose onto the table in front of me like it was garbage.

Because of that, when Declan approached me with such burning passion, I grabbed onto him like a drowning woman clinging to driftwood, refusing to miss out on love again.

But looking at it now.

That decision was fatally stupid. I was just a laughingstock to him, a toy to be used and tossed aside.

The truth was far too cruel.

Mike didn't stay in the private room much longer. Shortly after, Declan carried my body out to leave early.

By the middle of the night, I was burning up with a high fever. My head was splitting, and in a dizzy, spinning haze, I was rushed to the hospital by Declan.

By the time I finally forced my heavy eyelids open, it was already the next morning.

Faint sounds of giggling and flirting drifted in from the hallway. Through the glass window on the door, I caught sight of two highly familiar figures.

Declan was breathing heavily, pinning Phoebe tightly against his chest. He lowered his head and planted a deep kiss on her cheek.

"Phoebe, what on earth are you thinking? How could I possibly fall for Sylvia? What does she have that could ever compare to you? I am pushing through the disgust to do all this just for you. You heartless little tease, how are you going to make this up to me?"

A stunning blush immediately spread across Phoebe's cheeks, and she gave Declan a playful glare. Then, she stood on her tiptoes and carefully, seductively kissed him on the lips.

"Come over to my apartment tonight, okay? Your uncle went out of town on a business trip. I will make sure to reward you properly tonight. You know how it is, Declan. My heart loves Mike, and I want to be his legal wife, but my body and my passion will always belong entirely to you."

Declan's breathing instantly grew heavier.

After they finished their nauseating display of affection outside, Declan slowly straightened his wrinkled shirt collar and pushed open the hospital room door.

Seeing that I was awake, a fleeting panic flashed in his eyes, but it was replaced by flawless concern in the blink of an eye.

"Sylvia, you're awake? How are you feeling? Does anything still hurt?"

I kept my lips pressed tightly together, saying nothing.

My eyes were dead-set on the faint red hickeys peeking out from beneath his collar, a violent bitterness flooding my mouth.

So the things I heard last night were not just a bad dream after all.

Seemingly noticing my unusual stare, Declan very naturally pulled his collar up a bit, leaning in to pinch my cheek with a grin.

"Why the long face? Did you black out? You got completely wasted last night and started gnawing on me like crazy. The marks on my neck still haven't faded. When exactly are you going to take responsibility for me?"

My stomach immediately did flips, and my already pale face lost whatever color it had left.

He had used this exact same excuse countless times before.

Almost every single time he spent the night at my place, he would wake up the next morning with fresh red marks all over his neck and collarbones. He would always look at me with a suggestive, teasing smirk.

"Sylvia's stamina was incredible last night. Look at all your trophies on me. Are you satisfied with your masterpiece?"

Deep down, I never really believed it. All my old friends knew I was a happy sleeper when drunk, never the type to go crazy or lose control.

But the evidence was always right there in front of me.

So every time, I would be teased into a blushing, utterly mortified mess. And Declan would only take it further, pulling me tightly into his arms and pressing a highly restrained kiss to my forehead.

"So, when are you going to make me an honest woman? Sylvia, I really want to marry you and tie myself to you for the rest of my life."

I used to think those words were the absolute pinnacle of romance and happiness. Knowing the truth now made it feel incredibly nauseating.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. I leaned over the edge of the bed and started dry heaving violently, my ghostly pale face turning beet red from the strain.

Declan was clearly stunned. A flash of genuine worry crossed his eyes. He snapped out of it, hurriedly rubbing my back while frantically pressing the call button for the doctor. His anxious act was absolutely bulletproof.

"Sylvia? What's wrong? Is your stomach acting up again?"

Meeting his worried gaze, I zoned out for a split second.

Declan. Your acting belongs in Hollywood.

By the evening, my high fever finally broke.

Declan was incredibly sweet as he stayed with me through dinner, but then put on an apologetic face, claiming a sudden company emergency required his immediate attention.

His face was a picture of heartbreaking guilt.

"Sylvia, I am so sorry I can't stay here at the hospital with you. The moment I handle things at the office, I promise I'll sprint right back to you, okay?"

I put down my water glass and locked eyes with him. Deep down in the darkest corner of my heart, I still held onto one last, pathetic shred of hope.

"But Declan, today is our three-year anniversary. You promised me you would spend it with me."

He was the one who always initiated our anniversaries. Every single time, he would cancel all his meetings and social events just to focus entirely on me.

I used to worry that his impulsive behavior would give his rivals ammunition in the family business, but he always acted like he couldn't care less.

"I am just completely helpless when it comes to you. I am more than happy to be the man in the shadows. Let people talk. In this world, the only opinion that matters to me is yours."

"Sylvia, what the hell is work anyway? How could it ever compare to a single strand of your hair? Being with you is the most important thing in my life."

Those words used to make me want to laugh and cry at the same time. They melted my heart into a puddle, warm and burning. I hadn't felt that kind of unwavering, devoted preference in years.

But this time, Declan frowned slightly, a visible trace of annoyance flashing across his features. His tone became stiff and dismissive.

"Sylvia, can't we just celebrate it in a few days? Be reasonable. This project is life or death for me, and I cannot afford to drop the ball at a critical moment."

"Just be good, okay? I will come straight back to you the second I am done."

He didn't even leave me a second to argue. He grabbed his coat from the chair and walked out of the room without a single backward glance.

I sat quietly on the bed. It wasn't until the air in the room had completely turned cold and dead that I slowly raised my hand to wipe away the dried tears on my cheeks.

That last, pathetic sliver of hope finally vanished into thin air.

"Declan, I won't be waiting for you anymore."

Declan never came back that night. The next morning, however, Mike called me out of the blue.

His tone was incredibly nasty, his impatience radiating right through the phone.

"Sylvia! Where the hell is Phoebe? Didn't I explicitly tell you to set up a room for her at the house? Did you pull your lady of the house routine and kick her out again? How can you be this petty? Where is a young girl like her supposed to go out there!"

"All I asked was for you to help out and cook her a warm meal! Could you not show even a shred of decency to a young girl? When did you become so vicious?"

When it came to Mike, I had long since run out of tears and expectations.

After all, his countless, blatant affairs over the years had ground whatever fiery love I once had for him into dust.

I had dragged out signing the divorce papers purely out of a sick sense of revenge. I maliciously thought that as long as I refused to give up my title, Phoebe would remain nothing but a dirty little secret in the shadows.

But now, I was truly exhausted. I didn't want to play this disgusting game for another second.

"Mike, let's get a divorce."

I hadn't absorbed a single word of his harsh accusations, nor did I care to.

The line went dead silent. It took him a full thirty seconds to find his voice again.

"What, couldn't handle the loneliness and found yourself a new toy? Or did you actually fall for some random guy? Sylvia, is this another one of your games to play hard to get? Using divorce as an excuse to force me to the negotiating table and beg you to stay? Aren't you tired of this routine?"

"How many times do I have to repeat myself? The only woman I will ever truly love is Phoebe!"

I couldn't even be bothered to argue. I actually found his clownish behavior incredibly funny.

Didn't he set up this entire trap himself? How did he have the nerve to play the victim of betrayal now?

I simply gave a calm sound of agreement, coldly stated a time to meet at the courthouse for the paperwork, and hung up without hesitation.

When Declan rushed to my house, the first thing he saw was the signed divorce agreement laid flat on the table.

Joy practically exploded across his face. He didn't even try to hide the fresh hickeys on his neck or air out the pungent scent of women's perfume clinging to him before leaning in close.

"Sylvia! You finally decided to go through with it?"

I nodded expressionlessly. His smile grew so wide it nearly reached his ears.

"This is absolutely perfect! Once you are officially single, we won't have to sneak around like thieves anymore! You'll marry me then, won't you? I swear, I will never let you suffer even a fraction of what your ex put you through!"

"Sylvia, you have no idea how happy I am!"

Looking at Declan's beaming face, I couldn't help but let a small smile curl my lips too.

Because once those papers were filed, my future would be scrubbed entirely clean of both of these scumbags.

Mike disgusted me. Declan made me want to throw up.

I didn't see Mike in person until the day we finalized the paperwork.

For some reason, he looked incredibly grim, a dark storm brewing in his eyes.

"Did you really fall for someone else? You're in such a rush to dump me just so you can marry another guy? Sylvia, your so-called true love is pitifully cheap."

I shrugged indifferently, my face a mask of absolute calm.

My complete dismissal seemed to instantly ignite Mike's temper. He took two aggressive steps forward, invading my personal space.

"I am warning you one last time! Playing hard to get won't work on me! You better actually sign those papers! If you try to pull any stunts in there, I will ruin your life!"

"And from now on, Phoebe is my legal wife! After this is done, you will personally apologize to her! If you hadn't kicked her out, she wouldn't have had to suffer in a hotel! You are deeply manipulative!"

I treated his words like absolute garbage.

I pushed open the glass doors of the building first, walked straight to the counter, and slapped my ID down.

Before the clerk could even go through the standard questions, I spoke up.

"I am absolutely certain. I want a divorce."

The process was faster than expected. With no property disputes holding us up, it was a breeze. Before long, the certificate of freedom was resting securely in my hands.

The moment I stepped out of the building, I noticed two incredibly flashy luxury cars parked by the steps. One was Declan's sports car, the other was Phoebe's ride.

Declan hurried over the second he saw me, a massive grin on his face.

"Sylvia! Congratulations on your freedom! I came specifically to pick you up to celebrate! I already booked first-class tickets to Paris. Let's leave today!"

At the same time, Phoebe pushed her car door open. Like a fluttering butterfly, she threw herself straight into Mike's arms, completely ignoring the public setting.

"Mike! I've waited for you for so long! Does this mean I get to officially be your wife today? My heart was practically breaking from the wait!"

Standing on the steps watching this play out, I actually felt a twinge of admiration. All three of them knew exactly how filthy this whole setup was, yet they could still act with such raw, convincing emotion.

But mostly, it was just a physiological urge to gag.

To complete their supposedly pure, elevated romance, they had effortlessly offered me up as a sacrificial lamb. Could the world get any more absurd?

I wasn't going to give them what they wanted.

I slightly shifted my body, coldly dodging Declan's hand as he reached for mine. His smile froze instantly.

Behind me, I could clearly feel Mike's piercing gaze locked onto my back.

"Sylvia, what's wrong? You finally got rid of that guy, aren't you happy? You always said you wanted to marry me. The man you truly love is me."

Mike let out an incredibly grating sneer. He deliberately held up his divorce certificate, sporting the smug look of a victor.

"Sylvia, we are legally finished. Let me give you a piece of advice. Don't stick to me like chewing gum anymore. You were acting so aloof inside. What, the moment you step outside, you're already dying to take it back?"

"Sylvia," Phoebe's voice was sickeningly sweet, yet laced with hidden venom. "Please, stop trying to steal Mike from me. We are soulmates. Doesn't Declan love you too? We both get what we want. Isn't this the perfect ending."