Everyone knew—I was Alexander Grant’s doormat.
Three years of marriage, nineteen affairs.
He used to say, “Babe, you’re the only one I truly love. But I’m a normal guy, I have needs.”
“The women out there? Just a bit of fun. Don’t take it to heart.”
When I was a kid, I had severe anemia and needed regular transfusions.
My blood type was rare, not always easy to match.
Alexander happened to be a match.
He donated blood to me twenty times. Basically saved my life.
So, I decided I’d let him mess up twenty times.
I told him—twenty is my limit. Go over that, and I'm out.
In the beginning, he’d cry on his knees, swear he’d change.
But then he'd disappear all night, come home the next day smelling like some other girl’s perfume, and still act like nothing was wrong.
I went from angry and hurt to numb.
He thought I finally got where he was coming from. Held me close and said I was the best wife a guy could ask for.
Truth was, I was just dead inside—counting down the days until I’d finally leave.
——————
Three months pregnant. The baby stopped growing. They had to do a D&C.
It was our first kid.
I was heartbroken.
He said he’d hold my hand through the whole thing.
His voice was soft, “Don’t worry, babe. I won’t leave your side.”
I was raw, broken. Couldn’t even think about anything else.
Then his phone rang in the hospital room. Loud and sharp.
Right after that, I heard his voice—low, trying to be quiet, but I could still make out every word.
“Hey?”
A sickly sweet voice came floating through the half-closed door.
“Alex… Dotty’s missing! I’ve looked everywhere… I can’t find her... waahhh…”
Was that… Isabella Austin?
If I’m right, Dotty’s her dog.
I knew because Isabella had been bragging—sent me everything about their affair to force my hand.
Not even an hour earlier, she’d texted me something snide, saying, “One call from me and he’ll run straight to me.”
Back when we first got married, I’d installed tracking software on his phone.
Any little thing set me off.
Sometimes he’d call me crazy. Other times he’d try and calm me down, saying it was just harmless fun, nothing serious.
Eventually, I stopped obsessing. Didn’t track him anymore.
He assumed I’d given up completely. Hugged me and called me the best wife ever. Said he’d love me forever.
But really, I was just keeping score. Counting how close we were to number twenty.Today I put on the earpiece again and heard her say, “I just lost track of Dodo. I’ve looked everywhere but can’t find her.”
“Alexander, I’ve had her since I was little… what if something happened to her… *sob sob sob*”
“There are so many reporters around, she must’ve been so scared. Alexander, what should I do?”
Then came Alexander Grant’s voice: “Don’t worry, I’m coming now.”
Of course.
The hospital room door silently cracked open.
Alexander peeked his head in, wearing that all-too-familiar look of guilt.
“Sophia, be good, just wait a bit for me.”
“Something urgent came up—I’ll be back really soon.”
“Can’t you stay?” Deep down, I still secretly hoped he’d stay.
“Babe, seriously, it’s urgent.”
So he just left me, to go help another woman find her dog.
I laughed so hard tears nearly spilled out.
Later, I was wheeled into the OR. The anesthesia started to kick in.
My eyelids felt heavy, my thoughts a blur.
Everything spun… twisted… and finally, faded into black.
God knows how much time passed before I woke up, still dazed.
The smell of disinfectant filled the room—it was both familiar and nauseating.
The meds left my head spinning, my stomach churning.
I tried to sit up, but my limbs felt like lead.
My phone lit up on the nightstand. A push notification.
I grabbed it with trembling fingers.
Clicked.
#IsabellaAustin spotted getting cozy with mystery boyfriend#
#Turns out Isabella’s new man is a famous doctor!#
#But wait, he’s not just a doctor—he’s the heir to the Grant Group. And the hospital he works at? Yeah, it’s theirs too…#
#The young master sealed off an entire film base to find Isabella’s missing dog. Mobilized hundreds of people. Finally reunited with the adorable pup.#
Each headline hit me like a slap in the face.
I tapped on one of the links, hands shaking.
There he was, Alexander Grant, holding Isabella close like she was made of glass, looking all strained and protective.
She wore an off-shoulder cocktail dress, leaning into his chest, pale and fragile like some tragic heroine.
While I was lying unconscious in the middle of a D&C, he was out there playing the perfect lover.
He’s cheated on me twenty times.
Twenty.
All those feelings, all those hopes, all the unwillingness to let go—burned to ashes in that moment.
Tears hit the cold phone screen before I could even stop them.
No.
No more crying.
He’s not worth it.
Even now, I can’t lie—I still love him.
But I love myself more.
I’m not letting him keep hurting me.
I opened the messaging app.
Found Alexander Grant’s name.
Typed one line.
“Alexander Grant, let’s get a divorce.”