Chapter 1My Secret Husband: Choosing My Childhood Sweetheart Over My Long-Term Love.

While I was fighting over discount groceries at the supermarket,

Mark was dropping a fortune on jewelry for his secretary.

He gave me the freebie that came with it as an anniversary gift.

I looked at the pile of discounted groceries on the table and the necklace marked 'promotional item.'

While I was nearly dying from an allergic reaction, Mark was fussing over his secretary's paper cut.

Later, I wore a wedding dress and married my childhood friend.

Mark, however, choked back tears and asked,

"Didn't you say you wouldn't marry anyone but me?"

* * *

The night Mark didn't come home again, I finally didn't call him.

Usually, I'd complain and then call him again and again, urging him to come back.

At first, Mark would just say, "Be right there."

Later, he got annoyed when I asked too much.

"I just don't want to come back. Seeing you looking like such a mess ruins my appetite."

I started spiraling, buying tons of makeup to hide how tired I looked.

Instead, my face broke out like crazy. When Mark saw it, his expression was pure mockery.

"Ugh, Sarah, you look awful. Trying too hard just makes it worse."

I unpinned his chat from the top of my contacts list.

Mark came home.

He reeked of alcohol, and underneath it, the unmistakable smell of someone else's cheap perfume.

"Sarah, you're getting lazier. You didn't even make dinner."

I looked at Mark, exhausted.

"Have you even looked at the time?"

The clock on the wall showed midnight.

Mark was momentarily speechless, maybe feeling a flicker of guilt.

"It was Megan's birthday today, so things ran a little late."

Megan was the new secretary, the darling of their department, spoiled since she was a kid.

She and Mark were inseparable. They'd often share food off the same plate, sip from the same drink.

They'd even crashed on the same couch sometimes.

I often asked them to keep their distance, reminding them we were engaged.

At first, Mark listened and kept some distance, but eventually, he just stopped caring.

"If Megan hadn't gone abroad back then, do you think you'd even have a chance with me?"

And somehow, Megan found out about this.

At parties, Megan would sometimes bring the conversation around to me.

"Sarah, see? I'm not getting too close to Mark."

"Mark, you shouldn't come to karaoke with us. Sarah will just accuse me of flirting with you again."

Megan's words always made Mark's face darken instantly.

He increasingly felt like I was tearing him and his "best buddy" apart.

Soon, rumors spread through our circle: Mark's girlfriend was a control freak, a total psycho.

Mark never defended me, not once. It was as if that's just who I was.

Seeing my indifferent expression now, that tiny bit of guilt in Mark vanished instantly.

He slammed his mug down on the table, shattering it on the floor.

"Who do you think you're giving that attitude to, Sarah?"

The ceramic exploded near my feet, fragments flying up and hitting my face.

Stinging cuts appeared.

That mug was a gift from Mark when we first moved in together.

Back then, his company hadn't taken off yet. He wasn't Mr. Thompson, the boss.

He was just Mark.

His voice choked with emotion, he had said, "I will never let you down."

Later, he could afford endless mugs, but he was also short on genuine feelings.

Seeing the blood on my face, Mark sobered up instantly. Guilt over coming home late and cheating finally surfaced.

"Sarah, are you okay? I just got a little worked up."

I didn't say anything, just wiped the blood from my face with my hand.

Mark, uncharacteristically, fumbled for a Band-Aid.

My heart warmed for a second, only to plummet the next.