Six years of marriage got me nothing. No shares. No assets. Not even a house key in my name. Just a bed to sleep in and cold leftovers on the table.
When the ceremony ended, Archie strolled over, looking relaxed, while carrying a black gift box, smiling like we were all old friends.
“Troy,” he said, light and breezy. “Thanks for showing up to my homecoming party. I got you something.”
I took the box. Part of me was just curious. If he’d walked all the way over here himself, it had to be deliberate.
I flipped it open.
My heart skipped a beat.
Inside, there was a used condom. It was still wet. The stench hit me immediately—sharp, sour, and disgusting.
It was vile.
Archie leaned in, close enough for his breath to hit my ear. His voice dropped, smooth and mean.
“Troy… last night, Margaux just couldn’t keep her hands off me.”
He chuckled softly.
“I had no choice. Had to do what a man’s gotta do. You should’ve seen her like an animal, like she hadn’t had real meat in years. She almost tore me apart.”
Then he pulled back, tilting his head with a smirk, that same smug, gleaming look that made my fists curl.
His eyes sparkled with victory, as if he was waiting for me to snap... waiting to see me burn.