More Than a Mistress, Less Than a Wife
img img More Than a Mistress, Less Than a Wife img Chapter 2
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Chapter 5 img
Chapter 6 img
Chapter 7 img
Chapter 8 img
Chapter 9 img
Chapter 10 img
Chapter 11 img
Chapter 12 img
Chapter 13 img
Chapter 14 img
Chapter 15 img
Chapter 16 img
Chapter 17 img
Chapter 18 img
Chapter 19 img
Chapter 20 img
Chapter 21 img
Chapter 22 img
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Chapter 2

The finality of the divorce papers Chloe had so "helpfully" ensured Ethan signed, hidden amongst company documents, hit Liv with a strange mix of pain and resolve.

The pain was for the love she thought they had, the life she had invested in.

The resolve was for herself, for the future she now had to build alone.

She would not be a victim in her own story any longer.

Her new life, her independent life, started now.

Ethan remained blissfully unaware.

Liv had tried, in small ways, to signal the end.

A quiet withdrawal, a lack of response to his forced affections.

He'd dismissed it as her being "moody" or "still upset about the necklace."

He simply couldn't conceive of a world where she would actually leave him.

His blindness was astounding, and in a way, freeing.

It made her departure cleaner, if not less painful for her.

Chloe, meanwhile, continued her Oscar-worthy performance.

She'd clutch her belly, sighing deeply, whenever Ethan was near.

"Oh, Ethan, I just feel so overwhelmed sometimes. Thank goodness you're here."

He would rush to her side, his brow furrowed with concern.

"What is it, Chloe? Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Liv watched them, a bitter taste in her mouth.

His attention, once solely hers, was now entirely consumed by Chloe and the impending "heir."

One evening, Ethan found Liv packing a small bag.

"Where are you going?" he asked, a flicker of something – annoyance? concern? – in his eyes.

Before she could answer, Chloe called out from the living room.

"Ethan, darling, could you get me a glass of water? And maybe rub my feet? They're so swollen."

His attention snapped back to Chloe instantly.

"Coming, Chloe!"

He gave Liv a cursory glance. "We'll talk later."

But Liv knew there would be no "later" for them.

Liv observed Ethan as he knelt by Chloe, gently massaging her swollen ankles.

He spoke to Chloe's belly, his voice soft and full of anticipation.

"He's going to be a good father," Liv thought, a strange, detached sadness washing over her.

He would be a good father to Chloe's child.

He had never been a good husband to her.

The realization settled heavily, a final acceptance of a harsh truth.

Later that night, as Liv prepared to leave for good, Ethan found her by the door.

His face was a mask of confusion and dawning panic.

"Liv, what are you doing? Don't go. Please."

His voice was raw, desperate.

But his pleas fell on deaf ears.

Liv felt nothing. The part of her that had loved him, that had ached for him, was gone.

She was a hollow shell where that love used to be.

She looked at him, her eyes cold and empty.

Suddenly, Chloe shrieked from the bedroom.

"Ethan! Ethan, I think... I think it's the baby! Something's wrong!"

Ethan's head whipped around.

Without a second glance at Liv, he bolted towards the bedroom.

"Chloe! I'm coming!"

Liv watched him go.

Another feigned emergency, another manipulation.

And he fell for it, every single time.

Or perhaps, he wanted to fall for it.

It was easier than facing the truth of what he had done to their marriage.

Liv opened the door and stepped out into the night, leaving the life she knew behind.

The journey to the lawyer's office to finalize everything felt symbolic.

A storm had broken over the city, mirroring the turmoil she was leaving behind.

Rain lashed against the taxi window, blurring the familiar streets.

She was heading into the unknown, but for the first time in a long time, she felt a flicker of something other than pain.

It might have been hope.

There was a small bureaucratic hiccup.

A mandatory waiting period, a few more days before the divorce was officially, legally, irrevocably final.

Liv felt a momentary dip in her spirits, a brief frustration.

She wanted it over, done.

She wanted to sever the last tie.

But as she left the lawyer's office, the storm had passed.

The sun was breaking through the clouds, washing the city in a clean, fresh light.

Liv took a deep breath.

The delay wasn't a setback.

It was a pause, a moment to gather her strength for the new chapter.

Her future was waiting.

She returned to the apartment one last time to collect a few remaining personal items.

The sounds from the master bedroom were unmistakable.

Ethan's low murmur, Chloe's soft laughter.

They were already building their new life, in the shell of Liv's old one.

She felt like an intruder in what was once her home.

That night, a fever took hold of Liv.

She lay in the guest room, shivering and aching.

Her throat was parched. She reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, her hand shaking.

It slipped, shattering on the floor.

No one came.

Ethan was in the next room, likely doting on Chloe, oblivious to Liv's suffering.

She was alone, sick and utterly neglected.

The bitterness was a physical ache in her chest.

A memory surfaced, sharp and painful.

Years ago, she'd had the flu, a bad case.

Ethan had been by her side constantly.

He'd spoon-fed her soup, read to her, held her hand, his eyes full of worry and love.

"I'm here, Liv. I'll take care of you."

The contrast between that tender memory and her current reality was a cruel twist of the knife.

That Ethan was gone.

Or maybe, he had never truly existed.

            
            

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