Chapter 2Ten Days To Die And Leave My Cheating Husband

I still remember the day I found out.

He came home drunk, hugging me, resting his head on my shoulder. Through the haze, he suddenly mumbled,

“Sierra, why do you feel shorter?”

I thought it was funny then. I’ve been five-foot-five my whole life; how could I suddenly be shorter?

Later, I checked his phone. His Blakely was five-foot-ten, tall and strikingly sexy—the complete opposite of me.

And the pet name he had slurred? Was it Sierra, or was it Blakely?

...

I don’t remember the specifics of that day. Only the thunderous roar in my head, the world tilting and falling into darkness.

Owen knelt before me, crying and begging. He said it was a mistake, a momentary lapse, a temporary thrill.

Three years of dating, three years of marriage, giving up my chance to go home—all for this ending.

I was too stubborn and too hurt to let us go.

So, we silently agreed to maintain the marriage.

But a rotten love, a rose infested with beetles, is impossible to discard yet sickening to hold onto.

His repeated betrayals led to an endless cycle of fights and resentment, until we were utterly exhausted and numb.

It was like a dull blade sawing through the last remnants of our love, slowly, agonizingly.

So, when the System finally woke from its long hibernation and spoke to me, I answered immediately.

“System, I regret it. I want to go home.”