The Fake Marriage Exit Strategy

Charlie and I grew up in the same zip code, our lives stitched together by shared fences and decades of family dinners. But that lifelong proximity didn't breed love; it bred a quiet, simmering resentment in him.

The marriage certificate we signed was nothing more than a prop. From the very beginning, our union lacked any legal teeth. I had already booked my flight out of Chicago, just waiting for the right moment to disappear.

On our wedding night, his grad student, Maisie, practically poured half a bottle of bourbon down his throat. Fueled by the alcohol and her wide, tearful eyes, he stood before our guests and announced to the room that he didn't love me. He never had.

The next morning, when the hangover hit, Charlie brushed it off. He told me it was just the drink talking, that I shouldn't take it to heart. He even defended Maisie, claiming she was young and impulsivejust a girl pulling a prank, devoid of any real malice.

He stood with his back to me, staring out at the grey, empty morning streets of the city, his mind already miles away. He added, almost as an afterthought, that even if Maisie did have feelings for him, he wouldn't let her ruin our marriage. He told me to relax.

I stood behind him, silent, and quietly tucked my diamond band back into its velvet box.

He had no idea that I was already gone.

On the first day of our "marriage," Charlie was up at five.

He dressed in his usual uniform: a charcoal-grey shirt, buttoned all the way to the throat.

After his brief explanation about the wedding night, he grabbed his coat.

"Theres an emergency at the hospital."

"Maisie cant handle it on her own. I have to go help her."

In the past, I would have fought him. I would have demanded to know why he was the only attending physician on call, or why Maisie couldn't ask anyone else except the man currently on his honeymoon.

But today, I just nodded. "Okay," I said.

Charlies hand paused on the doorknob. He turned, looking like he wanted to say something more, but his phone cut through the silence.

It was Maisie, her voice a frantic, sobbing mess on the other end.

"Dr. Evans... the patients family is threatening to sue. I don't know what to do..."

And just like that, Charlie left without another word to me.

I finished the last bite of my eggs, slow and methodical.

This had happened a thousand times over the last few years. I was used to it.

Ever since Maisie appeared in his life, Charlie had shifted.

He used to lecture me if I ate a bag of chips, going on about nutrition and health. Now, he was the man who would hand-prep organic meals and drive them across the city to the hospital just because Maisie was pulling a double shift.

He took her to street festivals. He took her to the movies.

He smoothed over every academic and professional hurdle she faced, promising her a golden future. He even worried about her modest background, buying her everything from designer boots to basic necessities, treating her like a delicate project that only he could complete.

On my twenty-fifth birthday, my parents had invited every power player in Chicago. They were ready to announce our engagement.

But Charlie left the party because Maisie called with a "crisis."

He left me there to become the citys favorite punchline.

Last New Year's Eve, at his family's gala, Charlie lied to his parents. He told them Id been in a car accident and that he needed to be by my side. In reality, he spent the night driving across three neighborhoods just to find a specific bakery that sold the croissants Maisie liked.

I had fought with him so many times. I begged him for boundaries.

Every time, he would just rub his temples and sigh.

"Maisie is my student, Cherry. Im just looking out for her."

"I gave you the marriage you wanted. What more do you want from me?"

That one sentence always silenced me.

Everyone in the city knew Id been in love with Charlie for years.

And everyone knew hed spent those same years tolerating me.

Our "merger" was a business arrangement that benefitted both families, but to Charlie, it was a charity he was performing for my sake.

I thought I could keep lying to myself forever.

Until the wedding. Two months of planning, all for Maisie to hand him a bottle of whiskey with red-rimmed eyes.

"Just one last time," shed whispered. "Cant you do this for me? How many more times in this life will you get to drink for me?"

I saw Charlies eyes soften, a raw vulnerability Id never seen directed at me.

He drank. He didn't hesitate.

Maisies gaze grew even more tragic. "Dr. Evans, I just need to hear it. Are you marrying her because you love her, or because"

He didn't let her finish. "I don't love her," he choked out.

The room went bone-dry silent.

I took a deep breath. For the first time in years, the weight in my chest actually lightened.

Years of pining, years of chasing. Id traded my dignity for a seat at a table where I wasn't wanted.

If he didn't love me, fine.

I would give him exactly what he wanted: his freedom.

That afternoon, I was at home packing my essentials and documents.

Suddenly, a text from Charlie popped up.

I wondered if his mother had gotten in his ear.

Breaking years of habit, he actually asked me out to dinner at a bistro by the river.

Wed grown up near that water. As a kid, I loved picnics by the riverbank. Charlie used to call me childish and refuse to go.

But on my eighteenth birthday, hed presented me with a deed. Hed bought a plot of land there and promised to build a restaurant for me one day.

"Is this enough for a debutante?" hed asked, a smug, boyish grin on his face.

Every time he broke my heart, I went back to that memory. I told myself to wait a little longer.

Wait until the memory didn't hurt anymore. Then I could leave.

When I didn't reply, Charlie called.

"Didn't you see my text?" he asked. "I said lets do dinner tonight."

I blinked, refusing him for the first time in my life.

"I can't. I already have plans."

There was a stunned silence on the other end. His voice came back stiff.

"Its our first day as a married couple. Who could you possibly have plans with?"

I realized then that this was likely a chore assigned by his mother. She and my mom were best friends; shed always treated me like a daughter. After the scene hed caused at the wedding, she probably told him to get home and fix it.

I gave a small, knowing smile. "Don't worry, Charlie. I won't tell your mom you went AWOL. Youre free to do whatever you want tonight. If she asks, Ill cover for you."

This was the rhythm wed established since last New Years.

The night he lied about my "accident" to go see Maisie, hed called me from his car.

"If my mom calls about the crash, just say Im with you and youre fine. Don't make a big deal out of it."

I had been so hurt then. "I begged you for weeks to spend New Years with me, and you said you had family obligations. But because Maisie wants a croissant, suddenly youre available?"

"You're willing to lie to your family for her? Youre willing to joke about my health?"

Charlie had just stayed silent for two seconds.

Then he let out an annoyed huff. "Are you really doing this? Its a tiny lie. Don't be so dramatic."

"If its such a chore to be with me, let's just call off the engagement. You're exhausting to live with."

He knew my weak spots better than anyone.

Since I was a girl, my only dream was him.

So, I learned to lie for him.

But this time, hearing my "understanding" response, Charlie sounded even angrier.

"I'm actually trying to take you to dinner. This isn't a cover story."

"I already ordered. Everything you like. Consider it an apology for Maisie's behavior."

I looked at my calendar. "Sorry. I really don't have the time."

"Just tell me how much the tab is, and I'll Venmo you."

Charlies voice went low, dangerous. "You're serious?"

"Fine. Starve for all I care. I'll take Maisie."

He didn't hang up immediately, as if waiting for me to crack.

I just nodded to the empty room. "Perfect. I have a bottle of wine held at that restaurant under my name. You guys should have it."

The line went dead.

I suppose his ego was bruised, because Charlie didn't come home for a week.

I didn't care. I didn't ask where he was.

I spent the week shipping my belongings to a new apartment Id leased in Savannah.

Then, I went to my studio.

I needed to hand over the reins of my business before I left.

I didn't expect to see a familiar face at the entrance.

Maisie was there, clutching a birdcage with a dead parakeet inside, screaming at my staff.

"Isn't this a boutique funeral home? Aren't you supposed to be 'artists of the afterlife'?"

"My bird died! Why won't you prepare him for a service?"

Becca, my assistant, was trying to be patient.

"Ma'am, we specialize in human services. We aren't equipped for taxidermy or avian preservation. You should really contact a specialist..."

Before Becca could finish, Maisie slapped her. Hard.

"Specialist? He was my family! Hes gone, and youre turning me away because you think I can't pay?"

She burst into hysterical tears. "I don't understand why the world is so cruel to me! The man I love is married to someone else, and now my bird is gone, and Im being humiliated just trying to give him a dignified burial! What did I do wrong?"

Becca had been with me since she graduated college. She wasn't just an employee; she was like a little sister.

Seeing her get hit made my blood boil.

I started toward them, ready to throw Maisie out, but someone beat me to her.

Charlie swept in, pulling Maisie into his arms.

"Don't cry," he whispered, his face etched with genuine pain. "It's okay. I'll take care of it. I can solve anything for you."

He glared at the studio. "If this place makes you unhappy, I'll see to it that they close their doors."

I stepped forward, putting Becca behind me.

I looked at Charlie and smiled. "You want to shut me down, Charlie? Don't bother with the legal drama. Just write me a check for five million dollars. Ill transfer the deed to you, along with the eight-year lease and every piece of furniture in here. You can let Maisie smash the place to bits for all I care."

"But," I said, my voice turning cold, "before that, she owes my employee an apology."

Charlie looked stunned. He looked at me, then up at the sign above the door.

"This place... this mortuary... it's yours?"

I laughed softly.

Yeah, it was mine.

Charlie and I had known each other since birth. Id shared every step of my life with him.

After graduation, Id told him a thousand times about what I wanted to do. My goals, my vision for a modern, empathetic funeral service.

I shared every step of the planning phase. On opening day, Id asked him to celebrate with me.

But Charlie was busy that day because Maisie had cramps.

Hed sent me a generic "Congrats" text with a small wire transfer and never mentioned it again.

My studio had been open for four years. It was the top-rated boutique service in Chicago.

And he had no idea I was the owner.

He promised to protect Maisies career while having zero clue that I even had one.

Charlies expression shifted to something defensive. "It doesn't matter who owns it. You shouldn't treat customers this way."

"Maisie is just a kid. Shes grieving. Why are you being so hard on her?"

He looked at me with suspicion, as if I were orchestrating a petty revenge plot because I was jealous of her.

"Hard on her?" I asked. "Your 'kid' brought a dead bird into a human funeral home, and when my assistant politely explained our policy, she was assaulted. Whos being hard on who?"

"Charlie, protect your little muse all you want, but try to be logical."

"Maisie apologizes to Becca today, or I call the police. I have the security footage and the medical report for the bruising. I will press charges."

I stood my ground. Charlies face turned a shade of livid Id never seen.

"What did you just call me? Charlie? Since when did we stop being"

Maisie tugged on his sleeve, interrupting him.

"Its okay, Dr. Evans," she whimpered. "I deserve it. I upset her at the wedding. It's only fair she gets her revenge now."

She looked so small, so fragile.

It worked. Charlies protectiveness flared into a rage.

He stepped forward and, before I could react, he slapped me.

He did it to even the score for her.

"I hit you. So what?" he snapped, his voice icy. "Your professional standards are a joke. You want to sue? Go ahead. Name me in the suit too. Lets see how a judge handles it."

It hurt. My cheek burned, but my mind was suddenly, perfectly clear.

I realized in that moment that I would never think about that afternoon by the river ever again.

After that confrontation, the internet exploded.

Within twenty-four hours, smear campaigns against my studio were everywhere. Fake reviews, ugly rumorsthe works.

A GIF of Charlie slapping me started circulating among the Chicago elite.

Whenever I walked into a room, people gave me that half-smirk, half-pitying look.

I didn't fight it. I closed the studio, paid my staff three months' severance, and wired Becca an extra fifty thousand dollars.

Tomorrow was the day Id leave for Savannah.

Tonight, Charlie unexpectedly showed up at the house.

He walked in and stopped short.

He looked around at the boxes. "Why is it so empty in here?"

"Wheres the wedding portrait?"

I didn't look up from my laptop. "In the trash. I left the nails in the wall, though, in case you want to hang something else."

Charlies voice was tight. "Thats not what I meant."

"Your face..." He stepped closer, reaching out to touch my cheek.

I flinched, pulling away instinctively.

"It's fine. Just a scratch."

He looked uncomfortable. "I lost my temper that day. But you weren't blameless either."

"Ive told you a hundred times, Maisie is my student. Shes young, shes from a poor family, and Im just helping her. Theres nothing else to it. You keep picking fights with heryoure just asking for trouble."

"Okay," I said. "It won't happen again."

He seemed thrown by my compliance. He stood there for a long time before reaching for my hand.

"Anyway, I need to borrow your wedding ring for a bit."

"Maisies been down lately. She said she loved the design of your band, and I want to get one made exactly like it for her."

He reached for my left hand, only to find my ring finger bare.

He froze. "Where is it?"

I got up, went to the dressing room, and brought out the small velvet box.

"Here. Take it."

"Check the size. If her fingers are about the same as mine, she can just have this one."

"Oh, wait. I forgot. You don't like giving her second-hand things. Just put it back in the cabinet when you're done looking at it."

Charlie stared at me, his eyes dark and unreadable.

He didn't address the ring. Instead, he asked, "You used to be so obsessed with that ring."

"Why aren't you wearing it?"

I smiled.

Yeah, I was obsessed.

Id traveled to three different countries to find the right stones. My desk had been buried under design sketches for months.

Id texted him every day, asking for his opinion. He never replied.

When I finally bought them, I had to beg him for weeks just to put his on.

To this day, he didn't even know what my ring looked like. He had to borrow the original just to copy it for another woman.

I didn't say anything. Charlie set the box down, the silence stretching between us.

"Well talk about the ring later. Come back to my parents' place for dinner tonight."

"My mom misses you."

I closed my laptop. "Sorry. I don't have time."

"I have a flight to catch."