I finally pulled the rare chase figure from the blind box series—a oneinahundred grail statue I’d been hunting for months.

Electric with excitement, I set it carefully on Craig’s office desk, right beside her laptop. She barely glanced up from her screen.

With a flick of her wrist, she swept the box straight into the trash can. "You're twentysix, Seth," she said, her voice flat, devoid of warmth. "Isn't playing with toys getting a bit pathetic?" I swallowed the lump in my throat, retrieved the box from the trash, and listed it on a local secondary marketplace app.

Within minutes of going live, a buyer nearby snapped it up at full asking price, asking if I’d mind delivering it in person since he lived just a few blocks away.

When I stepped into his townhouse, I froze right at the entryway.

Covering an entire wall of his living room was a custom, floortoceiling glass display cabinet, illuminated by warm LED strips.

Inside sat dozens of vaulted, hyperrare vinyl statues—a collection worth a small fortune. The guy offered me a warm, easy smile. "Pretty insane, right?

My older girlfriend bought all of these for me." He scratched the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. "I told her a guy my age looks like he lacks ambition obsessing over collectibles, but she insisted it’s what makes me cool." Before I could respond, the front door clicked open.

A woman walked in holding two iced lattes. She stepped up on her tiptoes, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against his cheek. I shifted slightly to the side to give them space.

But as my gaze brushed against her profile, every drop of blood in my body rushed to my head.

The devoted girlfriend dropping thousands to curate a dream display wall for this boy—the woman who held him like he was the center of her universe—was the exact same woman who had trashed my chase figure less than twentyfour hours ago.

My wife, Craig. … Our eyes met.

In an instant, the color drained completely from her face. "Babe, why are you staring at him like that?" Todd pouted, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist before handing me one of the iced lattes. "This is the guy who sold me the chase figure.

Seth, meet my girlfriend." Craig regained her composure with frightening speed, giving me a brisk, formal nod. "Nice to meet you." Her tone was cool, but when she turned back to Todd, her voice softened into a gentle, honeyed murmur I hadn't heard in years. "You don't need to buy secondhand anymore, Todd.

Anything you want, I'll buy it brandnew for you." Todd swayed her arm like a spoiled child. "Secondhand is fine!

Otherwise, I just feel guilty watching you stand in line for hours every time a limited drop releases." I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms, but I couldn't feel the pain.

Todd had bragged earlier that his girlfriend hunted down exclusive figures from all over the world for him.

One specific statue on that wall now pierced my eyes like a hot needle—a piece released exclusively overseas a year ago that I had pined over for months.

Craig had happened to be on a business trip in that exact city at the time.

I hadn't dared to ask her for the figure itself, only quietly begging her to bring back a matching commemorative sticker pack from the popup event.

I remembered her cold, scowling refusal: "I’m swamped with actual work, Seth. I don’t have time to waste on your childish junk." She hadn't been too busy.

She just hadn't cared enough to give me a single ounce of patience.

Yet for Todd, she gladly stood in line for an entire day just to secure a rare statue. "Oh, right, Seth—I actually have a duplicate of a figure in the back.

Let me grab it for you as a thankyou," Todd said, turning to jog toward the bedroom.

The moment he vanished down the hall, Craig grabbed my wrist and dragged me forcefully into the shadow of the foyer corner. "Go home right now," she hissed under her breath. "When I get back, I'll explain everything." My voice came out raspy, hollow. "Explain what, Craig?

Explain how you've been keeping another man behind my back? How you're cheating on me?" A flicker of panic flashed in her eyes.

Instead of answering, she shoved me backward with sudden violence. The heavy front door slammed shut right in my face.

The skin on my wrist throbbed red where her grip had been, and my eyes stung with unshed tears.

Through the thin wood of the door, their muffled conversation drifted out into the quiet hallway. "Wait, where’d Seth go? I didn't get to give him the statue." "I sent him away.

He’s just a stranger selling secondhand toys—no need to get cozy with him." Then came the soft, unmistakable sound of wet, intimate kissing.

I leaned against the hallway wall, my chest heaving, every instinct screaming at me to kick the door down and confront them.

But before I could move, a sharp, excruciating cramp twisted deep in my stomach. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead, blinding me with pain.

Through the fog in my mind, a distant realization struck me: I hadn't checked my patient portal for the results of my endoscopy from last week.

By the time I stumbled back to our empty apartment, my phone buzzed in my hand. A notification from the clinic. I unlocked the screen, opening the PDF attached to the message.

The diagnosis was spelled out in cold, unambiguous black ink: "Stage II Gastric Carcinoma." Before I could even process the words, the front door unlocked. Craig stepped inside.

She caught sight of my ghastly, bloodless face, her brows pulling into a faint frown. "Why do you look so pale?

Are you sick?" She reached out, her hand extending toward my forehead, but I flinched back, avoiding her touch entirely. "About earlier... it’s not what you think," she said, pulling her hand back with a tired sigh. "Todd is my childhood neighbor's kid.

His family practically took me in when my parents were struggling and we couldn't even afford groceries." She paused, adjusting her designer handbag. "He has a congenital heart condition.

Before his father passed away, he begged me to look after Todd.

I only agreed to play the role of his girlfriend so he’d focus on resting and recovering." "So your idea of 'taking care of him' is stepping outside our marriage and building him a fiftythousanddollar display wall?" The weight in my chest felt like a boulder crushing my lungs, making every breath a struggle. "Craig, I’m only realizing today that you built an entire secret life behind my back." I couldn't control the volume of my voice anymore; it shook violently, along with the rest of my body. "You treated my hobby like a pathetic flaw, but you flew halfway across the world to stock his shelves!" A faint flash of guilt crossed her features, and her tone softened, though her stance remained defensive. "He’s eight years younger than you, Seth.

It’s normal for someone his age to like those things." She stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on her hip. "Look, I’ve always thought those plastic statues were silly anyway.

If you really want them that badly, I’ll just start buying them for you from now on.

I’ll handle things with Todd—his heart is fragile and he can't take emotional stress, so don't you dare go making a scene with him." I stared quietly at this woman I had loved for six long years, suddenly feeling as though I were looking at a complete stranger. "Craig," I said softly, "let’s get a divorce." She assumed I was throwing a childish fit.

A faint smirk of disdain tugged at the corner of her lips. "Stop being dramatic. I’m taking care of a sick boy, not falling out of love with you.

You’re the one holding the marriage certificate. You’re my actual husband." She shook her head dismissively. "Besides, you can’t survive without me.

Don't throw the word 'divorce' around like a threat ever again." She checked her luxury watch. "I promised to take Todd to a movie tonight. Stay home and pull yourself together.

Stop being so unreasonable." The apartment door clicked shut behind her. I gripped my phone, my fingers trembling against the glass, my vision blurring into a haze.

Six years of devotion. Three years of marriage.

I had given her everything I had, poured my youth and health into supporting her ambitions, only for it all to boil down to a firm warning: "Don't bother him." Before I could collect myself, a text notification popped up on my screen.

It was from Todd. [I’m so sorry, man. My girlfriend has a bit of a temper, so we didn't host you properly.

I saved a rare figure for you—stop by whenever you want to pick it up.] I tapped into Todd’s profile, scrolling down his social media feed.

From top to bottom, spanning back years, every single post revolved around Craig. [The entire series was vaulted, but Craig went straight to the manufacturer to customorder a full set for me!] [Best birthday surprise ever: a massive haul of grails.

She literally rescheduled a huge investor meeting just to queue up at the drop for me.

I love my girl so much.] [Mentioned offhandedly that I loved the celebrityedition statue, and she had it delivered to my doorstep the very next morning.

Boss babe always comes through!] In every single photo, Craig’s presence was everywhere—the corner of her coat, her distinctive rings, her shadow over the boxes.

When she was launching her business, I had drunk myself to the point of alcohol poisoning at corporate dinners just to help her secure client contracts.

All I had ever asked for in return was one afternoon where she’d walk through a collectible shop with me.

Yet for Todd, she effortlessly cleared her schedule, pulled strings, and spent small fortunes without a second thought.

By the time I reached the bottom of his feed, the sharp, agonizing pain in my heart had worn itself out, leaving behind nothing but a deep, hollow numbness.

I typed out a brief reply: [No need. I don't want it anymore.] I didn't care about the figures anymore. And I didn't want Craig either.

That night, I retained a top family law attorney, packaging every piece of evidence of her infidelity and forwarding it to his office.

The tens of thousands of dollars spent on Todd’s collection had been funded entirely by our shared marital assets. When we stood before a judge, I wouldn't yield a single dime.

Late that evening, Craig returned home carrying a massive, shrinkwrapped boxed set of figures.

She set it on the bed in front of me. "Look," she said, her voice laced with forced cheer. "Isn't this the series you’ve been begging for?" I didn't even glance at it, continuing to fold my shirts and stack them methodically into a duffel bag. "Take it back.

I don't want it." The smile on her face faded millimeter by millimeter, replaced by a dark, familiar impatience. "You practically cried over this set last year, Seth.

Now that I went out of my way to buy it for you, you’re pulling this passiveaggressive routine?

Stop looking for a fight." "I really don't want it," I repeated calmly, setting a folded jacket aside. "What you owe me isn't a box of plastic toys, Craig." Her face turned completely cold. "Seth, are you ever going to drop this?!" Before the words fully left her mouth, her phone began to ring loudly.

In her haste to grab it, her thumb brushed the speakerphone icon, and Todd’s panicked, whimpering voice echoed through the bedroom: "Babe... my chest hurts so bad...

I can't breathe..." Craig’s expression shifted instantly to pure horror. She turned on her heel to bolt toward the door, her arm swinging back wildly as she moved.

Her elbow caught me squarely in the chest, throwing me off balance. I crashed heavily onto the floor, my lower back slamming directly against the sharp corner of the bedside table.

A sharp gasp of pain tore from my throat as a wave of excruciating agony rippled through my abdomen. "Craig!" I reached up, grabbing the hem of her sleeve with bloodshot eyes, desperate. "My stomach... it hurts so bad.

Please, take me to the hospital first... please..." She yanked her sleeve out of my grip with violent irritation. "Enough!

Stop using fake medical emergencies to compete for my attention!

His life is actually on the line!" Without a second glance, she sprinted out the door, the heavy slam of the entryway echoing through the flat. A bitter taste flooded my mouth.

I curled into a fetal position on the hardwood floor, clutching my stomach as the pain threatened to choke the air from my lungs.

Using every ounce of strength left in my body, I reached for my phone and dialed 911. The impact against the nightstand had caused internal bleeding, aggravating the tumor.

In the emergency room, the oncologist sat by my bedside, his face grave. "We need to schedule surgery immediately, Mr. Barrett.

If we wait any longer, the risk of metastasis increases exponentially." I lay flat on the sterile hospital mattress, staring blankly at the white ceiling tiles.

My eyes were so dry I couldn't squeeze out a single tear. While the cancer tortured my body in the middle of the night, my phone chimed with a social media notification.

Todd had updated his story. The photo showed him curled comfortably against Craig’s shoulder on a plush velvet sofa, a triumphant grin on his face.

The caption read: [Babe was terrified out of her mind.

Honestly, my heart wasn't even hurting that bad—I just wanted to trick her into coming over to cuddle with me longer. (Hidden from Craig)] Reading those words, every dam of composure I had built over the years broke at once.

I rolled onto my side, buried my face in the hospital pillow, and sobbed until I couldn't breathe.

The next morning, another message from Todd popped up on my screen. [Seth, can we talk in person?] [You really need to take this rare figure off my hands, or my conscience is going to bother me forever.] My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long moment before I typed back a single word: [Fine.] It was time to lay everything out in the light anyway.

An hour later, as I approached the entrance of the designated coffee shop, Todd burst out through the front doors.

Before I could say a word, his fist connected violently with the side of my face.

A dull "crack" echoed in the air. "Seth, do you have no shame at all?!" Todd yelled, his eyes wide and red, his body shaking with dramatic fury. "I genuinely looked up to you as an older brother, and you were trying to pull my girlfriend behind my back the whole time!" My head throbbed, my ear ringing loudly.

I held my bruised cheek as he thrust his phone screen inches from my face.

On the screen was a photo taken a month ago—a candid shot of Craig and me holding hands while taking an evening stroll through the park. "I stumbled across your private album and realized you two have been sneaking around!" Todd screamed, his voice carrying across the outdoor patio. "You selling me that figure, making up excuses to come to my house—it was all a sick game to flaunt it in my face and trigger my condition, wasn't it?!" His voice cracked into a loud sob.

He grabbed his chest with both hands, his knees buckling as he sank toward the pavement. "I’m begging you, Seth! My heart can't take this strain. I can't live without her!

Take the whole wall of figures—take everything!

Just leave us alone!" The surrounding pedestrians instantly gathered around us, pointing fingers and whipping out their smartphones to record. "How disgusting... messing with a sick guy's relationship?" "To pick on a heart patient like that... some people have no soul." I took a deep, agonizing breath.

I raised my hand and swung it back, landing a resounding slap squarely across Todd’s face.

The loud "crack" silenced the crowd instantly. "Your girlfriend?" My voice trembled, but my grip was steady as I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out our crimson marriage certificate, holding it high for everyone to see. "Craig and I have been legally married for three years." I pointed a shaking finger at his face. "And as for that wall of collectibles in your townhome?

Every single one was purchased using our joint marital assets. My legal team has already finalized the filings. I am reclaiming every single dollar." The patio fell dead silent.

Whispers began to ripple through the onlookers. "Wait... an actual marriage certificate?" "Is the kid with the heart condition actually the side piece?" Todd’s body swayed as if he were about to faint, his eyes welling with fresh tears. "That’s impossible...

Craig swore to me she was completely single..." Before he could finish his sentence, a sudden force shoved me violently backward. "Seth!" Craig pushed her way through the crowd, pulling Todd protectively into her arms.

The look she threw at me was laced with pure, unadulterated venom. "Who gave you permission to lay a hand on him?!

You know his heart can't handle physical stress!" Todd leaned heavily against her shoulder, whimpering softly. "Babe... tell me the truth. Are you really married to him?

Am I... am I just a homewrecker?" Craig hesitated for a fraction of a second.

Then, her voice hardened. "No." She looked up at the crowd, her tone icy and convictionfilled. "He suffers from severe delusional paranoia.

That certificate in his hand is a total forgery.

He’s just a stalker who’s been harassing me for months." Those light, dismissive words pinned me to the spot like ice running through my veins. "Craig... have you lost your mind?" I breathed, my voice barely audible. "We are legally—" Her face went completely cold.

She grabbed Todd’s wrist. "Todd, hit him back." I stared at her in utter disbelief. "He just put his hands on you," she said, her voice terrifyingly steady. "Hit him back as hard as you want.

I will never let anyone bully my boyfriend." Her words acted like an instant shot of adrenaline for Todd. "BOOM!" A heavy, ruthless punch landed on my other cheek.

Todd bit his lip, his eyes cold. "That’s what you get for lying and trying to ruin people's lives!" Then, he looked at Craig, his expression shifting to exaggerated concern. "But... where did he even get such a convincing fake document?

Forging government records is a felony, babe. Shouldn't we call the police on him?" A flicker of hesitation crossed Craig’s eyes.

But in the next second, she reached out, snatched the crimson marriage certificate from my hands, and tore it cleanly down the middle. She ripped it again. And again.

The torn scraps of red paper floated down to the dirty pavement like drops of dried blood.

On the day we had registered our marriage three years ago, she had held that exact booklet in her hands like a fragile treasure, her eyes brimming with happy tears as she whispered: "Seth, you’re finally my husband.

My actual husband." And now, for another man, she was shredding the only proof of our life together with her own hands. "It’s just a fake piece of paper," she said, her voice hoarse, her posture rigid. "Now let’s see what you use to spread lies." The crowd around us exploded with righteous indignation. "So he really is a crazy lunatic!" "Let’s teach this stalker a lesson so he stops harassing women!" Craig’s expression shifted slightly, as if she were about to step forward and push the crowd back.

But Todd gripped her sleeve gently, his body suddenly going limp. "Babe... my chest... it hurts so bad again..." He closed his eyes and slumped forward into her arms, pretending to lose consciousness.

Craig panicked immediately, completely forgetting about me.

She helped Todd into her car, casting one hurried, unreadable glance in my direction before slamming her foot on the gas pedal and speeding away. The angry crowd surged forward.

Hands grabbed my coat, shoves turned into kicks, and insults rained down on me from every angle. Yet strangely, I felt almost no physical pain.

The fists landing on my shoulders felt soft, distant, as if separated from me by a thick layer of fog. My vision slowly faded to black, and I collapsed onto the cold sidewalk.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed under harsh fluorescent lights.

Craig was sitting on the edge of the mattress, holding my hand, deep dark circles beneath her eyes. "You're awake?" she said, her voice tight. "Don't move around too much.

You have several severe soft tissue contusions. You need rest." She took a deep breath. "I spoke to the people who attacked you and settled things quietly.

Don't go to the police about this." I slowly pulled my hand out of her grip, resting my arm flat against the thin white sheet.

The corner of my mouth twitched into a hollow smile. "Ms.

Holloway," I asked softly, "what exactly is our relationship?" She froze, her brows drawing together in immediate irritation. "What kind of ridiculous question is that?

We’re husband and wife." My eyes burned, but I squeezed out a low, dry laugh. "Husband and wife?

Do we have a marriage certificate to prove that?" A flash of guilt washed over her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by her familiar impatience. "Todd has a fatal heart condition, Seth!

I had to say those things in the moment!

Why did you have to bring a marriage certificate out in public just to provoke him?" She leaned forward, her tone rising. "Did you want to watch him have a massive heart attack right in front of you?

Would that have made you happy?" "It was just a piece of paper," she added, waving her hand dismissively. "Once things calm down in a few weeks, I’ll take you to the clerk’s office and we'll just reapply for a new one." It felt as though a blade had been dragged straight through my chest, letting the freezing winter air pour directly into my lungs.

I gripped the hospital bedsheets, the pain so intense I could barely draw breath. "Craig... just let me go," I whispered. "Sign the divorce papers.

I’ll step aside and let you two be together." Her breath hitched.

A sudden, sharp panic flickered across her face, and her voice softened dramatically. "When I had nothing three years ago, you were the one who stayed by my side and helped me build my company.

We are bound together for life, Seth." She reached out to touch my shoulder. "I’m only taking care of Todd out of a sense of duty and gratitude.

As my husband, you should be understanding instead of keeping score.

Besides, if you hadn't lost your temper and confronted him, I never would have said those things." She stood up, smoothing down her coat. "Rest up.

I’ll make this up to you properly once everything settles." She turned and walked out, leaving the private room in heavy, suffocating silence. It was almost laughable.

There were a million ways to repay a debt of gratitude, yet she had chosen the one path that systematically ripped my heart to pieces.

I let out a soft, bitter laugh, pulled the IV needle cleanly out of the back of my hand, and stood up from the bed. My suit was already packed at home.

The signed divorce settlement had been left sitting flat and neat right in the center of her mahogany desk.

When I arrived back at the apartment to grab my bag, the sound of a power drill echoed from the living room.

A team of interior contractors was hard at work along the main wall. "Oh, you must be Mrs.

Holloway’s husband!" the lead contractor greeted me with a warm smile, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Mrs.

Holloway hired us specifically to construct a floortoceiling, climatecontrolled glass display wall for your figure collection." He chuckled appreciatively. "She spared no expense—insisted on ultraclear tempered glass and custom lighting.

Your wife really adores you, man." "Adores me?" A cold, sarcastic smile touched my lips. I pulled out my phone. Todd’s newest social media post sat at the very top of my feed.

In the photo, Craig was wearing a massive fivecarat diamond ring on her left ring finger. [My poor babe was harassed by a lunatic stalker for months, but luckily this boy didn't give up on her.

She finally explained everything today!] [We’re going to be so happy together.

To all irrelevant third parties: please exit gracefully.] The comment section was buzzing with excitement.

Someone asked about the wedding date, and Todd had replied with a joyous emoji: [Formal ceremony tomorrow!

Every single guest gets a rare collectible figure as a party favor! ~] I looked down at the ring finger of my left hand, at the simple, tarnished silver band resting there.

Years ago, when her first business venture collapsed and she was left penniless, we had bought this pair of matching silver bands from a street vendor for twenty dollars.

She had held my hands tightly that night, her eyes red as she wept tears of remorse: "Seth, I can't give you romance now, but every single thing I owe you, I will repay you tenfold in the future." Now, she was wealthy, powerful, and successful.

The money was there, the grand gestures were there—but we had lost each other completely along the way.

The custom display wall she had promised me years ago was being built for someone else. The diamond ring she had sworn to place on my finger was sitting on another man's hand.

The front door clicked open, and Craig walked into the foyer.

She glanced at the nearly finished display wall with a satisfied nod. "Do you like it?" she asked softly, stepping over to my side. "I had them install it specifically for you." "Sure," I said quietly. "By the way," she paused, her tone casual, as if discussing the weather. "I’m hosting a formal wedding ceremony for Todd tomorrow." She looked at me, her expression defensive. "His heart condition has worsened severely.

He could go into cardiac arrest at any moment.

I just want to perform an act of charity—I don't want him dying with regrets." I offered her a faint, polite smile. "I understand." She blinked, caught off guard. "You're... not angry?" When I didn't respond, a look of relief washed over her face.

She pulled out her phone and instantly transferred a substantial sum of money directly into my bank account. "Don't worry, it’s just a pretend wedding for his sake," she reassured me softly. "As soon as I get back, I’ll take you to reregister our marriage license.

While I’m gone for the next few days, take this money and buy whatever collectibles you want to fill up this wall.

I’ll check on your progress when I get back." I tapped my screen and accepted the transfer. "Okay." Before she could say anything else, her phone rang.

Todd’s voice drifted through the line, laced with sulky impatience. "Babe, where are you?

Hurry over to help me try on my tuxedo..." "I'm on my way," Craig said immediately, turning on her heel and hurrying back out the door.

The contractor finished wiping down the glass frames and turned to me with a cheerful wave. "All done, Mr. Barrett!

What do you think of the final result?" I thanked him softly, paid him his tip, and saw him out the door.

Once I was alone, I walked into the utility closet, picked up a heavy steel claw hammer, and walked back to the living room.

I raised the hammer high and swung it with all my strength straight into the center of the glass wall. "CRASH!" A deafening, sharp explosion of shattering glass echoed through the empty apartment.

Spiderweb cracks spread violently across the surface before the entire structure caved in, raining sharp shards onto the hardwood floor.

With a single strike, I smashed six years of unwavering devotion. I smashed every ounce of love I had ever carried for her.

I smashed a marriage that had long since rotted to the core. "Craig," I whispered to the empty room. "We’re done." I wheeled my suitcase out into the hallway, pulling up my email app one last time to set a scheduled delivery.

Attached to the message was a digital copy of my Stage II gastric cancer diagnosis, alongside a highresolution photo of the shattered glass covering the living room floor.

The body of the email contained a single sentence: [I’m returning the display wall to you.

Happy wedding.] I tapped send, walked out of the building, and headed straight to the airport.