My Husband Chose My Abuser, So I Ruined Him

At the live broadcast of the university's New Year's Gala, a world-famous pop star smiled as he handed a signed photo to my husband. His gaze swept over the woman standing beside him, and he offered a warm blessing. "Professor Carter, you and your wife look absolutely beautiful together." My stepsister lowered her head, blushing deeply. Julian, however, remained silent. He didn't explain that she wasn't his wife. At that moment, I finally realized that the woman he loved—the one he loved most—was my stepsister. The same girl who had bullied me for ten agonizing years. The boy who once held a pocketknife, standing in front of me and swearing he would protect me forever... In the end, he became the hand that stabbed me the deepest. My phone suddenly lit up. The sender was Julian's colleague, Ashley. [Chloe, Happy New Year! Are you feeling any better? Julian said you were too sick to come. What a shame!] [Julian went out of his way to get his autograph for you. Get well soon!] Attached below was a photo of the signed poster of the pop star I had adored for years. Too sick? [What do you mean?] Ashley's reply came almost instantly on Snapchat, accompanied by a string of shocked emojis. [Oh? Julian told us you were bedridden with a raging fever. That's why he had to give the plus-one ticket to your stepsister. Everyone was praising him for being such a thoughtful husband!] I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. My husband, who was normally so upright he'd feel guilty for running a yellow light, had actually learned to lie like this. Since when did he and Stella get so close? I stiffly looked up at the TV screen. The live camera happened to catch them. The pop star finished signing, glanced back and forth between Julian and Stella, and complimented them. "Professor Carter, you and your wife are such a stunning couple. You look perfect together." Stella blushed, biting her lip. "Thank you," she murmured shyly. Julian, facing this obvious misunderstanding, only pursed his lips with slight awkwardness. He didn't correct them. He tacitly allowed everyone to believe Stella was his wife. On TV, the New Year's countdown ended, and brilliant fireworks exploded across the screen. But I felt a cold chill creep up my spine, freezing my heart. At 3:00 AM, the front door clicked open. Julian was back. He flipped on the lights. Seeing me sitting silently on the sofa, he froze for a second. Then he walked over, his voice filled with gentle scolding. "Why are the lights off? Why are you still up? Didn't I tell you not to wait up for me?" He complained about the terrible traffic after the gala. As he took off his cold overcoat, he reached out and took my hands. "Why are your hands so cold?" He wrapped my hands in his warm palms, trying to warm me up. Everything seemed the same. He was still that attentive, loving husband. But I could clearly smell the sweet, cloying scent of peach perfume on him. It was Stella's favorite peach blossom fragrance. I didn't want to hold back anymore. I pulled my hands away and went straight to the point. "Why did you give the gala invite to Stella?" Julian's brows furrowed, the tenderness on his face instantly vanishing. "Chloe, what is that supposed to mean? Don't you trust me?" He sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'm exhausted today. It's New Year's. Can we please not fight? The most important thing between a married couple is trust..." His words died in his throat when I lifted my phone. The Snapchat chat log between Ashley and me glowed stark white in the dim room. His lips twitched in embarrassment. He said stiffly, "She's your sister, after all. There was only one extra ticket. What difference does it make who I gave it to?" "She is not my sister!" I practically screamed, the emotions I had bottled up all night finally exploding. "You could have given it to anyone, Julian! Anyone but her! You know exactly what she did to me!"Julian looked at me coldly. His eyes were distant and foreign, as if he were looking at a hysterical madwoman. "Chloe, this is exhausting." "Making a scene over such a small thing. You're acting crazy." The impatience in his voice felt like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. All my boiling emotions instantly froze. I was left completely numb. I stared at him blankly, realizing for the first time how much of a stranger he had become. Perhaps sensing the heavy tension, his tone softened slightly as he tried to smooth things over. "Alright, don't be mad. I know Stella used to be a bit stubborn and immature. But she knows she was wrong now. Can't you just let the past go?" The "stubborn and immature" behavior he spoke of was ten years of severe abuse from Stella and her mother. In that house, I was never allowed to get better grades than Stella. I was never allowed to have anything in my room that Stella didn't have. If anything displeased her, they would lock the door and torment me. They burned me with hot cigarette butts on my thighs and pricked the skin under my fingernails with sewing needles. In places hidden from view, fresh wounds covered old scars. They never fully healed. I once tried to tell my father. But he only said dismissively, "It's not easy for me either, Chloe. They won't go too far. Just endure it." My stepmother and stepsister were smart. They never hit my face. All the scars were hidden beneath my baggy school hoodies—a nightmare that haunted my entire adolescence. Until Julian appeared. During our senior year of high school, Stella was furious because I won the National Science Olympiad. She and her mother cornered me in my room again. But Julian kicked the door open. He grabbed a small paring knife, stood firmly in front of me, and screamed at them. "If you ever touch her again, I will kill you!" That was the first time anyone had ever protected me. He was my hero, the only light that pulled me out of the swamp. But now, my hero was telling me, with absolute indifference, that I should forgive them. That I shouldn't hold a grudge. Since that night, Julian and I entered a cold war. Usually, if I ignored him for more than three hours, he would come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. This time, he didn't. In fact, during this rare holiday break, he started leaving early and coming home late. It went on until our son, Leo, tugged at my hem, looking up with tearful eyes. "Mommy, does Daddy not want me anymore? Why don't I ever see him?" Looking at my son's tear-streaked face, I realized I couldn't let my relationship with Julian fall apart like this. I had thought about divorce. But how could I throw away years of love just like that? More importantly, we had a son. I decided to talk to him one last time. I called Julian, trying to keep my voice steady. "Hey... do you want to have braised short ribs tonight? I can make them for you." This was the most graceful peace offering I could manage. There was a long silence on the other end, so long that I thought he would reject me. "Okay. I'll be home early." Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, a cheerful, high-pitched female voice rang out in the background. "Julian! Hurry up! Let's go to the next ride!" It sounded exactly like Stella. My heart clenched. Before I could ask anything, he hung up in a hurry. I tried to console myself. Don't overthink it. Don't be paranoid. Maybe they just ran into each other. But when the grandfather clock in the living room struck 8:00 PM, there was still no sign of him. The dinner on the table had gone completely cold, and a layer of white grease had formed over the ribs. I called his phone. No one picked up. My anxiety peaked when a friend request popped up on my phone. The message read: [Want to see where your husband is right now?]Possessed by some dark impulse, I tapped accept. Almost the instant I approved the request, a flood of photos and videos bombarded my screen. The first few were intimate selfies of Julian and Stella at an amusement park. In one photo, he was giving her a piggyback ride, both of them laughing into the camera like a pair of high school sweethearts. My brain went completely numb. I had begged him countless times to take me to the amusement park. He had always dismissed it with disdain, saying it was childish and stupid. Even when our son cried and begged him, pulling at his jeans, he remained completely indifferent. Then came a group photo. Julian, Stella, her mother, and my father were sitting around a dinner table, smiling warmly. Stella leaned affectionately against Julian's shoulder, while my stepmother smiled and piled food onto his plate. To anyone else, they looked like a perfect family. I had begged him so many times over the years to take a simple family portrait of the three of us. He would only snap impatiently, "Why waste time on that? It's pointless." Following that were screenshots of his social media posts. He had been updating his feed constantly over the last few days, documenting every "sweet moment" with Stella. But every single post had been hidden from me. The last file was a video. Brilliant fireworks exploded in the sky behind them, lighting up the night. Stella looked up at him, her eyes shining. "Julian, if Chloe weren't in the picture, would you have chosen me?" My heart lodged in my throat. I even stopped breathing. I waited for his answer like a death row inmate waiting for the final verdict. Just as the fireworks began to fade, he finally spoke. His voice was soft, but every single word pierced my ears with brutal clarity. "I don't know." "Chloe... she isn't vibrant and passionate like you. She's like a glass of plain water. You need it to survive, but drink it long enough, and it becomes completely tasteless." "So, my mind is in a mess, Stella." I remembered when he proposed to me for the third time, his eyes overflowing with deep, unyielding devotion. He had said with absolute certainty, "I only want you, Chloe. I don't want anyone else." But now, he said his mind was in a mess. As the video ended, a text from Stella popped up on Snapchat. [You idiot. The last person in this world who loved you doesn't want you anymore.] [You're destined to have nothing. Just get lost already.] [I gave you so many clues, and it took you this long to notice? You really are stupidly slow.] As if that wasn't enough, she sent another text. [Oh, I forgot to tell you. We've been together for three years. I really have to thank your pathetic postpartum depression. Otherwise, I would've never had the chance.] My eyes widened in disbelief. Three years ago, right after giving birth to my son, I was deeply tormented by severe postpartum depression. During that dark period, Julian would rush home from work every day to be by my side. He would hold me, gently whispering that everything would be okay. When would he have had the time to cheat? [You think he was actually comforting you? All those times he said he was working late, he was with me.] [On his way home, he would always stop by to see me for half an hour. He said it was the most relaxing part of his day.] She triumphantly sent an audio clip. My hands shook as I tapped it. It was indeed Julian's voice—a voice I knew better than my own. "She's crying again. Cry, cry, cry, all day long. It's making me sick. Honestly, I just want to plug her mouth shut." "It's so annoying. I just want to escape. I don't want to look at her depressed face for even a second." "If it weren't for the kid..." I couldn't hear the rest. A sharp pain stabbed my chest. I gasped for air like a dying fish. I couldn't believe it. The husband who had gently encouraged and held me during my darkest days... Secretly detested me this much. "Mommy, why are you crying?" My son's innocent, worried voice pulled me back.I wanted to tell him I was okay, but my throat was tight. He stood on his tiptoes and clumsily wiped away my tears with his tiny palms. In his sweet, childish voice, mimicking how I used to comfort him, he said, "Don't cry, Mommy. Leo is here. Don't cry." I couldn't hold it back anymore. I pulled him tightly into my arms. The tears I had fought all night finally burst through. After finalizing all the details of the divorce agreement with my best friend, who was a lawyer, Julian finally returned. He held a delicate gift bag, a perfectly apologetic smile on his face. "Chloe, I'm so sorry. There was a sudden emergency at the lab, and I lost track of time once I got busy." "Here, I bought this little gift especially for you. Don't be mad anymore, okay?" This had happened so many times before. He probably thought I would blindly believe him like I always did, happily taking the gift and hanging up his coat. But this time, I just stared at him. My eyes fell on the bottom corner of the gift bag. There was a tiny label that read: Free Gift with Purchase. He was so lazy now that he didn't even bother spending money to appease me. Suddenly, I found the whole thing pathetic. When you stop caring, you lose the energy to even argue. "Okay," I said quietly. He seemed surprised by my calmness and blinked. "Wait here." I turned and walked into the study to print out the document. Returning to the living room, I placed the divorce papers on the coffee table in front of him. "Let's get a divorce." Julian stared at the papers. His shock quickly turned into rage. "You want a divorce just because I didn't take you to the gala?" I shook my head calmly. "No." "Julian, let's keep some dignity. I just don't want to hold you back anymore. You shouldn't have to force yourself to live with a tasteless glass of plain water." "Just sign it. I'm keeping full custody of Leo." His shoulders went rigid, a flicker of panic crossing his face as he realized he'd been caught. "I'm not signing this! Nothing happened between Stella and me!" "An emotional affair is still cheating." "I'm setting you free. So please, let me go too." "In your dreams!" He swept the papers off the table, sending them scattering across the floor. "You always do this! You always blow things out of proportion, making a huge deal out of nothing! You never let things go, and you make everyone miserable!" "No wonder nobody likes you!" "Even the son you gave birth to is weak and sickly. He's not lovable at all!" Snap. The final thread of my sanity broke. I could tolerate him insulting and hating me. But he had no right to talk about my son like that! "Shut up, Julian!" He stood up, opening his mouth to argue. As he flung his arm out, he knocked over the delicate porcelain vase on the side table. Smash! The loud crash echoed through the room. Leo, who was hiding in the corner, shook violently at the noise. His face turned paper-white. In the next second, he clutched his chest and collapsed onto the floor. "Mommy... it hurts... Mommy..." My mind went completely blank. "Leo!" I scrambled over on my hands and knees, pulling him into my arms. His lips were turning blue. His breathing was shallow as he curled into a painful ball. Right then, Julian's phone rang loudly. "What? You got into a car accident? Stella, don't panic! I'm on my way!" Seeing him grab his coat to leave, I screamed through my tears. "Julian! Leo is having a heart attack! Don't go! Help me take him to the hospital!" He paused, looking back at us. For a brief second, I thought he would stay. But his hesitation lasted only a moment. "Call 911 first." "He's had these episodes before. He'll be fine. Stella is in danger, I have to go." Without another word, he slammed the door and rushed out. The heavy thud of the door cut off my last shred of hope. Holding my son's increasingly pale body, my hands shook as I dialed a number I hadn't called in years. "Uncle Marcus... please help me..." "I'll sign the divorce. I'll go back to Boston with you..."