Tenth Anniversary, Getting Divorced — Novel

About

In a world where love can quickly turn into a battleground, Amy finds herself at a crossroads on what should have been a day of celebration. After ten years of marriage, a shocking encounter at her husband's company banquet leaves her questioning everything she thought she knew about their relationship. Zane's warm embrace with his childhood sweetheart, Maeve, shatters the facade of their life together, exposing the cracks that have long been hidden beneath the surface.

As the tension builds, Amy grapples with resentment and heartbreak, feeling more like a ghost in her own home than a cherished partner. The man who once fought for her has become a stranger, leaving her to navigate a maze of betrayal and disillusionment. When Zane's charming demeanor fades, revealing a man who treats her as little more than a housekeeper, she must confront the painful truth: love isn't always enough to hold a marriage together.

Can Amy reclaim her identity and find the strength to stand up for herself? Or will she remain trapped in a life where she feels invisible? In this emotional rollercoaster, the stakes are high, and every choice could lead to a new beginning or a painful end.

Tenth Anniversary, Getting DivorcedChapter 1

At the company's tenth-anniversary banquet, my husband's childhood sweetheart made an unexpected entrance. Without hesitation, she walked straight up to him, throwing her arms around him and handing him a bouquet of bright red roses.

To my disbelief, my husband didn't pull away—he hugged her back, tightly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The crowd erupted in cheers, calling for them to kiss, as if I was the outsider and they were the true couple.

My chest tightened; the pain unbearable. Without looking back, I turned and left the room. Goodbye, Zane. You didn't deserve my love.

——

Once again, Zane came home reeking of alcohol, the heavy scent filling the air as soon as the door creaked open. He staggered in like he owned the place, his posture demanding attention. "Bring me my slippers!" he barked, his voice laced with the entitlement of a king addressing a servant.

I sat quietly on the sofa, a half-full glass of champagne in hand, my gaze distant. The sound of him fumbling with his shoes reached my ears, followed by an annoyed huff. When I didn't move, he glared at me from across the room, his brow furrowing.