The Like That Cost Him Everything
The whispers from my coworkers started instantly, a ripple of quiet hisses spreading through the office.
In his new post, there he was: Ryan, the man who claimed washing a single dish was beneath him, now dressed in an expensive Patagonia jacket, diligently pruning grapevines in some rustic, sun-drenched vineyard.
But it was the caption that really sealed it. He’d written, so proud of himself:
A real man can close a deal in the boardroom and handle a shovel in the backyard.
This morning, before he left, he told me he had to fly out of state for an urgent project meeting.
Apparently, the “project meeting” was at his female colleague’s family home.
I stared at the smug, self-satisfied look on Ryan’s face in the photo, and I felt… nothing. A perfect, serene void.
I quietly liked the post, then locked my phone.
I didn’t know what kind of storm was about to break, but I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
We were finished.
1.
It didn’t take long for his call to come through. His voice was a mixture of post-manual-labor exhaustion and a sharp edge of anger.
“Alice, what the hell? We’re all colleagues here. What’s with the passive-aggressive crap online for everyone to see?”
“Jenna’s family is struggling. So what if I came back to her hometown to help out? You wouldn’t get it. A princess like you, who’s had everything handed to her, what do you know about how hard life is for people in the country?”
“Delete the comment right now. Stop making a fool of yourself in front of the whole office. If you’re not embarrassed, I am!”
“Next holiday, I promise, I’ll take you to see your parents. Okay?”
Next holiday.
I’d heard that empty promise a thousand times. My heart was numb to it now.
Besides, there wasn’t going to be a next holiday for us.
Because the day after Thanksgiving, our divorce waiting period would be over.
I was about to tell him not to bother when I heard a sudden yelp on his end of the line, like he’d tripped over something. He hung up in a hurry.
I frowned, set my phone down, and tried to focus on the project proposal in front of me.
A few minutes later, my phone started buzzing relentlessly, like a death rattle.
I opened it to see that Jenna had tagged me in the company-wide Slack channel.
She’d screenshotted my “like” on Ryan’s post and was demanding an explanation, her words dripping with faux outrage.
“@Alice, what is this supposed to mean? If you have a problem with me being from a small town, just say it. Don’t hide behind these petty, sarcastic jabs.”
“Ryan was kind enough to put aside his pride and help me prune grapevines, and all you can do is sit behind a screen and mock people? What kind of woman does that?”
The channel exploded.
People I knew, people I didn’t, all chiming in to support Jenna, their words sycophantic and eager to please the boss’s new favorite.
Then, the unbelievable happened. Ryan himself jumped into the chat.
“Alice, I expect you to apologize to Jenna immediately. If you don’t, consider yourself suspended for two weeks.”
His favoritism was blatant, shameless.
What stung more was that the colleagues I’d considered friends, the ones I shared lunches and inside jokes with, were all silent. Not a single person spoke up for me.
It was like they’d all made a pact. The arrows were all pointing at me.
Someone even accused me of being a snob who “discriminates against people from rural areas,” calling me petty and jealous of the new girl.
I let out a cold, humorless laugh. I couldn’t be bothered to argue.
If this was how Ryan wanted to fire me, it would actually be doing me a favor.
After all, three months ago, he’d already signed the divorce papers with his own hand.
2.
It was a normal Friday. When I handed him the papers, I was still clinging to a sliver of hope.
I thought he might at least glance at them, maybe even ask why.
But Ryan took the folder without ever looking up from his phone, scribbled his signature in a few quick strokes, and handed it back as if he were approving a routine expense report.
I just stood there, frozen. I looked down at his messy, illegible signature, and a pain so sharp it felt like a physical blade twisted in my gut.
I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Did you even read it?”
His brow furrowed in annoyance, his thumbs still flying across his phone screen. “It’s a document from Jenna. What could possibly be wrong with it? If there’s nothing else, you can go.”
My fingers, still clutching the papers, turned white. An invisible hand was squeezing my chest, making it impossible to breathe.
So that’s what I was to him. Not even worthy of a second of his attention.
The only person he trusted was Jenna.
I glanced down and saw the tension in his face melt away, replaced by a soft, gentle smile. He looked like a teenager with a crush.
I risked a peek at his screen. Even though they were in the same building, he was texting Jenna. Flirting.
The messages were intimate, full of inside jokes. They were making plans for drinks at some trendy cocktail bar tonight.
A phone ringing violently yanked me back to the present.
It was Ryan again.
Probably calling to force me to issue that public apology to Jenna in the Slack channel.
I ignored it.
But he called seven, eight times in a row. Finally, a colleague walked over and held her phone out to me, whispering, “It’s Mr. Henderson. He says it’s urgent.”
I took the phone, my voice flat and cold. “What is it?”
“Alice, you’ve got a lot of nerve, don’t you? Ignoring my messages, my calls? You really want to go against me?”
He launched into a tirade, his tone that of a CEO reprimanding an insubordinate employee.
“What do you want, Ryan?”
He scoffed. “I just got a call. Someone from the county clerk’s office, saying they wanted to schedule our final divorce mediation. Do you know anything about this?”
My breath caught in my throat.
Had he finally remembered?
3.
But his next words rained down on me like a hailstorm.
“Alice, I thought you had some class, but I never imagined you’d stoop this low.”
“Hiring someone to impersonate a government official? Threatening me with a divorce? You’ve really outdone yourself.”
I was stunned into silence. I could hear Jenna’s voice in the background, a slow, sweet drawl.
“Take it easy, Ryan. She’s probably just worried about you working so hard at my family’s place. She just wants you to come home sooner.”
Ryan laughed, a cruel, cutting sound. “Her? Worried about me? If she gave a damn about me, she wouldn’t have thrown a fit and kept me up all night when I was exhausted and just trying to get some rest!”
I laughed too, a hollow sound that chilled me to the bone.
I remembered that night. He had been with Jenna at a gallery opening.
He came home reeking of champagne, completely oblivious to the fact that I was in the middle of a severe allergic asthma attack, wheezing so badly I was on the verge of passing out.
What he called “throwing a fit” was me, gasping for air, desperately dialing 911.
When he heard the knock on the door, he didn’t even ask if I was okay.
He stormed out, screamed at the paramedics for making a racket, and slammed the door in their faces, locking it.
The next day, when he found me too sick to get out of bed, he complained that I was going to ruin his focus for the week. He packed a bag and went to “stay” at Jenna’s apartment.
I was alone in that apartment for six days, surviving on leftover inhalers and medication. The illness finally subsided, but it left me with a permanent tightness in my chest whenever the air got damp.
He didn’t remember any of that.
All he remembered was that I had disturbed his peace.
“Alice, what I said in the channel stands. You’re suspended for two weeks. Do you have a problem with that?”
“You can fire me, or I can quit. Either works.”
Ryan seemed taken aback by my response. He paused, then his tone softened, clearly mistaking my decisiveness for surrender. “Look, it doesn’t have to come to that. Since you’re showing a little remorse, we can change the punishment.”
“Jenna said she’s willing to forgive your little online outburst. But from now on, your project commissions will be transferred to her as compensation for emotional distress.”
“Now, aren’t you going to thank Jenna for giving you a second chance?”
4.
I had to laugh at the sheer audacity.
They were the ones who had publicly humiliated me, yet somehow, they had twisted it to make it my fault.
Ryan was a master at this kind of gaslighting.
Like the time Jenna missed a client proposal deadline and insisted I never told her the date.
Or the time she got drunk at a client dinner, smashed the client’s phone, and nearly got us sued. Ryan didn’t blame her. He chewed me out in front of the entire company for not “training her properly.”
I was so done with this life.
So I replied calmly, “Thanks for the generous offer, but I think I’ll just quit. It’s better for everyone.”
I hung up before he could respond.
My coworkers shot furtive, gossipy glances my way. I met their eyes, and they quickly ducked their heads back down, pretending to be busy.
Just then, an unknown number called.
“Hello, this is the county clerk’s office. We’re calling for a final confirmation. Do you and Mr. Henderson require divorce mediation services?”
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
“Very well. You can come to the courthouse to pick up your final divorce decree on any business day next week.”
I hung up the phone and let out a long, slow breath.
This seven-year relationship was finally, truly over.
I finished up my pending tasks, typed out my resignation letter, and took it to HR.
Ryan wasn't in the office, so I had to leave it with them to process.
I didn’t want to spend another second in that building.
As I passed the HR manager’s desk, my eyes caught on a small decorative object on her shelf.
A gilded magnolia flower, now covered in a thin layer of dust.
It was a memento from seven years ago, back when Ryan and I had just gotten together. He had given one to every employee in the company.
He’d spent days choosing it, settling on the magnolia because, he said, it symbolized our love: pure and enduring.
I can still remember him holding my hand, smiling. “Alice,” he’d said, “we’ll be like this magnolia. We’ll never wilt.”
Now, the flower was forgotten in a corner, collecting dust.
Just like our love, eventually replaced by time and someone new.
The HR manager noticed me looking. She sneered. “Don’t bother staring. It’s not yours anymore.”
“Your paperwork is processed. You can go now.”
I snapped back to reality and gave a bitter smile, saying nothing.
Leaving her office, I went back to my desk to pack my things.
I found it buried under a mountain of trash. Wastepaper, empty soda cans, snack wrappers. All of my personal belongings—my photos, my favorite mug—had been thrown on the floor.
I looked around. My coworkers watched me with smirks on their faces, enjoying the show.
They must have figured that since I was officially on the outs with Ryan and leaving the company, they didn’t have to pretend to be civil anymore.
The coldness of human nature, on full display.
I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. I swept the entire pile of garbage off my desk and onto the floor with one clean motion, clapped the dust from my hands, and walked away without looking back.
The moment I was out of the building, I called a real estate agent.
I put the apartment we lived in on the market. Then I went and applied for a passport.
Seven years ago, I gave up my dream of traveling the world to stay in this city for Ryan.
Now that I was free, it was time to get my dream back.
5.
I used to tell Ryan I wanted to travel, to hold his hand and see every corner of the globe.
But he never took me on a single proper vacation. He was always busy with a project, always putting it off.
I felt sorry for him, for how hard he worked. So I stayed, working as his assistant for seven years.
Everything changed when Jenna arrived.
Ryan started pushing all his work onto me while he took Jenna on trips all over the country.
At first, I believed they were business trips. Until Jenna started posting photos of them together on her social media.
In every picture, they were smiling, intimately close, with famous landmarks in the background. Her captions were filled with romantic, suggestive undertones.
My sympathy had just been his excuse for betrayal.
Just like now. Knowing she had Ryan’s full support, Jenna was flaunting their relationship all over Instagram.
Ryan, who never cooked, was personally making fruit wine for Jenna’s family, laughing like a teenager by the fire pit.
Ryan, who was always so aloof, was humbly serving coffee to Jenna’s relatives, even sharing a cup with her as they all cheered.
Ryan, who was so picky about beds he could never sleep anywhere but home, was now pictured sleeping peacefully in a hammock in Jenna’s backyard, his head resting on her shoulder.
I was smarter this time. I just liked the posts, no comments.
Then I blocked both of their accounts. Out of sight, out of mind.
I spent a few days exploring a nearby city. As soon as the divorce decree was in my hands, I would start my trip around the world.
The day I picked it up, I felt calm, almost euphoric with relief.
But when I got back to the apartment and pushed open the door, I heard voices inside.
“Ryan, I know that Jenna girl is from the country, but she seems a lot more dependable than Alice.”
“She doesn’t have any bad habits, either. Just a little drink now and then, but she’ll grow out of that once she has a baby.”
“Mom, what are you talking about? Alice and I are married!”
Ryan’s voice was laced with a smug tone, but there was an undercurrent of dismissal.
I sneered.
I don’t drink. I have no bad habits. But in his parents’ eyes, I was somehow not woman enough.
“So what if you’re married? You can get a divorce!”
“That Jenna seems like a good, solid girl. Much better than Alice, who’s just been living off you all these years!”
Ryan’s father’s voice cut in, dripping with contempt.
It was clear they had already accepted Jenna as their future daughter-in-law.
They had completely forgotten how, seven years ago, they had praised my master's degree and my potential to help Ryan build his career.
I couldn’t listen to any more. I pushed the door open and walked in.
6.
All three of them turned to look at me, their expressions shifting rapidly from surprise to annoyance.
Ryan was the first to react, pointing a finger at me, his voice booming with authority.
“Alice, you finally decided to come home? Disappearing for days without a word, are you trying to end this marriage?”
“You pull another stunt like this, and I swear I’ll lock you out for good!”
I froze, looking up at his arrogant, self-righteous face.
It seemed he hadn’t processed the fact that we were already divorced.
In the past, whenever I did something that displeased him, he would lock me out of the apartment.
It didn’t matter if it was freezing cold or scorching hot, or what I was wearing.
One time, just because I used a little less tea than Jenna preferred when I made her a cup, he flew into a rage and told me to get out.
He and Jenna then spent the entire night alone in the apartment, their laughter seeping through the crack under the door, each sound a needle in my heart.
Right on cue, as if summoned, Jenna herself emerged from the master bedroom. She was wearing a pair of loose pajama pants and rubbing her eyes, as if she had just woken up.
She glanced at me, her voice thick with annoyance. “What’s all the shouting about? Just throw her out. What’s she going to do about it?”
Hearing her, Ryan hesitated for a split second.
But his parents immediately jumped in.
“Exactly! What right does a useless woman have to stay here?”
“Ryan, you’re just too soft on her. A freeloader like Alice would never dare to actually defy you.”
Goaded on by his parents, the flicker of doubt in Ryan’s eyes was extinguished, replaced by pure irritation.
Finally, he turned his head and waved a dismissive hand at me, like shooing away a stray cat.
“Just go. I need a few days to cool off. Jenna will be staying here with me for a while.”
“And if you don’t learn to behave, by the time I actually decide to divorce you, it’ll be too late for tears!”
A cold laugh escaped my lips. “You don’t have to wait.”
Under their stunned gazes, I pulled the two copies of our official divorce decree from my bag and slapped them down on the coffee table.
“As you wished. We’re already divorced.”
The four of them stood there, mouths agape, staring at the documents on the table, utterly speechless.
Jenna eyed me suspiciously, then snatched one of the papers and examined it closely. “A pathetic woman like you? You’d willingly give up your meal ticket? This has to be fake.”
Ryan’s expression relaxed slightly, and he glared at me. “Alice, why do you always resort to these cheap tricks? Didn’t I tell you to stop? Do I have to call the cops to get you to act like a sane person?”
He made a show of reaching for his phone, as if expecting me to break down and beg for forgiveness.
But I remained perfectly calm, a slight smile playing on my lips.
Ryan’s brow furrowed. He sensed something was wrong. “What are you smiling at?”
“I’m smiling because you can’t even remember the divorce papers you signed.”
“When did I ever…” Ryan started, but his words died in his throat. His face went pale as a sheet, as if he was finally remembering the document I’d handed him three months ago.
7.
To my surprise, he didn't look relieved.
He looked panicked. A flicker of disbelief crossed his face as he mumbled, "No... that's not possible... I never meant for us to actually..."
Hearing this, Jenna realized the papers were real. A flash of triumph lit up her eyes, but she quickly masked it, adopting a scornful tone.
“Well, at least you have some self-awareness. Leaving Ryan is the best thing for both of you.”
“But,” she added, her eyes narrowing, “Ryan barely glanced at those papers. Who knows what kind of tricks you pulled with the division of assets?”
And then it clicked.
Ryan wasn’t panicking about the divorce itself. He was panicking about his money.
In his world, his fortune would always be more important than me.
Realizing this, I felt a wave of exhaustion. There was no point in arguing. I turned to go pack my bags.
But Jenna stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “What’s the matter? Feeling guilty? Trying to run away?”
“Let me give you some advice. Be smart about this. Sign another agreement waiving your right to any assets. Pay back everything you owe Ryan for these past few years. If you don’t, things are going to get ugly.”
I glanced at Ryan, who stood silent, and for a moment, I saw a complex emotion in his eyes. It looked like… regret. Or maybe disappointment.
He probably believed it too. That I was the kind of person who would resort to cheap tricks.
He was the one who had betrayed our marriage, yet here they were, trying to paint me as the villain and send me away with nothing.
The injustice of it was staggering.
Ryan’s parents snapped out of their shock, grabbing the divorce decrees and throwing them at me. “Jenna’s right! Either you walk away with nothing, or we’ll see you in court for fraud!”
“Enough! All of you, shut up!”
It was Ryan. He spoke before I could, his voice sharp and loud, cutting through their tirade.
The three of them stared at him, stunned. Their aggressive posture deflated.
“Ryan, we’re just looking out for you…” his mother stammered. “What if this woman took advantage…”
“Alice is not that kind of person!” Ryan cut Jenna off, his voice so firm it surprised even me.
But when he turned to face me, his expression softened into one of sorrow. “Alice,” he said, his voice low, “I don’t care about the money. But can you just tell me why? Why did you have to do this?”
“Just because I went to help Jenna at her family’s vineyard instead of going to see your parents with you… is that really enough to end us?”
“I won’t hold it against you that you tricked me into signing the papers. We can go back to the courthouse right now and undo this. Whatever you want as compensation, I’ll give it to you.”
8.
His voice was as gentle as it used to be. Every time he and Jenna had crossed a line, he would use this same sweet, placating tone to win me over.
Once, I had been so fed up I had actually dragged him to the courthouse.
But he had become uncharacteristically tender, holding me close and whispering apologies, promising he would change.
And like a fool, I believed him. I abandoned the idea of divorce.
He knew. He knew I couldn’t bear to throw away seven years of our life together. He used my love as a shield, pushing my boundaries again and again.
But not this time. I wasn't going back.
Seeing my silence, Ryan must have thought I was wavering. A blush crept up his neck as he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, haven’t you been wanting me home more? I’ll clear my schedule. I won’t go anywhere for the next few days. I’ll stay right here with you…”
I let out a cold laugh and took a step back, putting distance between us. “No, thank you. You should go build a family with Jenna. Didn’t you say you two wanted a baby? I’m just setting you free.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.
A flicker of triumph crossed Jenna’s face, but she saw Ryan’s resolve faltering and quickly jumped in to play peacemaker.
“Alice, Ryan and I are just colleagues. What’s this about a baby? Why don’t we all just sit down and talk this through? I’m sure there’s a better way to solve this.”
She reached out, trying to take my arm.
I recoiled, disgusted by her touch.
But Jenna was quick. She grabbed my wrist and then violently pulled my hand toward herself, stumbling backward and throwing herself to the ground.
Her head hit the corner of the coffee table with a sickening thud.
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