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My husband gave me the title of wife, and gave everything else to his mistress as compensation
Novelix
Completed
My best friend Yetta's husband was a firm believer in going Dutch in marriage. Even for condoms. When she spiked a fever in the middle of the night and had to rush to the ER, he made her Venmo him half the Uber fare after she got home. I told her to divorce him. She just gave me this loaded smile and said, "You wouldn't understand." And she was right—I didn't understand. Because with my husband Paul, all I had to do was glance at something twice and he'd buy it for me. That's why, three years into our marriage, I was still perfectly happy squeezing into a run-down apartment with him while he built his startup. Until I got an anonymous text: *Want to know why she won't get divorced? Come to East Hampton.* By the time I got there, Yetta was standing in front of a beach house with a Porsche parked behind her. A man had his arm around her waist. "Don't forget to send me twenty bucks for parking." I got a good look at his face. It was Paul—the same Paul who, just the night before, had promised to buy me a house. My phone buzzed again. The anonymous number sent me a screenshot of a group chat. Everyone in it was a mutual friend. The most recent message was Yetta transferring money to Paul, with the note: *For raising Elvira.* *Spent $320 on her gift this month. Sending you $160.* *Did she like the necklace?* *Cried her eyes out. She's a girl from nowhere—cheap stuff is more than enough to keep her happy.* I reached up and touched the necklace at my throat, and suddenly I started laughing. So when Yetta said, "You wouldn't understand," she'd been laughing at me for not getting the *fun* of their little going-Dutch arrangement. And me—I was just the pet they both chipped in to keep. Back home, I laid the necklace on top of the divorce papers. Then I booked a red-eye flight.
Chapters (3)
第1章
My best friend Yetta's husband was a firm believer in going Dutch in marriage.
Even for condoms.
When she spiked a fever in the middle of the night and had to rush to the ER, he made her Venmo him half the Uber fare after she got home.
I told her to divorce him. She just gave me this loaded smile and said, "You wouldn't understand."
And she was right—I didn't understand. Because with my husband Paul, all I had to do was glance at something twice and he'd buy it for me.
That's why, three years into our marriage, I was still perfectly happy squeezing into a run-down apartment with him while he built his startup.
Until I got an anonymous text:
*Want to know why she won't get divorced? Come to East Hampton.*
By the time I got there, Yetta was standing in front of a beach house with a Porsche parked behind her.
A man had his arm around her waist. "Don't forget to send me twenty bucks for parking."
I got a good look at his face. It was Paul—the same Paul who, just the night before, had promised to buy me a house.
My phone buzzed again. The anonymous number sent me a screenshot of a group chat.
Everyone in it was a mutual friend.
The most recent message was Yetta transferring money to Paul, with the note: *For raising Elvira.*
*Spent $320 on her gift this month. Sending you $160.*
*Did she like the necklace?*
*Cried her eyes out. She's a girl from nowhere—cheap stuff is more than enough to keep her happy.*
I reached up and touched the necklace at my throat, and suddenly I started laughing.
So when Yetta said, "You wouldn't understand," she'd been laughing at me for not getting the *fun* of their little going-Dutch arrangement.
And me—I was just the pet they both chipped in to keep.
Back home, I laid the necklace on top of the divorce papers.
Then I booked a red-eye flight.
...
Forty minutes to boarding.
Paul's call came through.
"Elvira, what's this divorce agreement about?"
I gripped my boarding pass. "The house in East Hampton. The Porsche. You kissing Yetta. What are those about?"
Silence on the other end for a few seconds.
"You went to East Hampton? Who told you?"
"Does it matter?"
He didn't answer. His voice just turned cold.
"Yetta didn't want you overthinking things, so she made up a husband who was always traveling for work."
"She's just been living with me on the side. The name on the marriage certificate has always been yours."
I laughed—furious. "So I'm supposed to *thank* you?"
"You already have the title of Mrs. Adam. She's been with me through years of building the company. What's wrong with giving her a house and a car?"
"You get the glamorous wife status, she gets the material compensation. One share each. Perfectly fair."
My chest felt tight.
So Paul's whole going-Dutch thing wasn't just about splitting parking fees—he'd split love and marriage into two separate accounts, too.
I asked quietly, "Then what am I?"
"I make you breakfast every morning. I bring you flowers. When have I ever done you wrong?"
I pressed him. "What about the cake yesterday?"
Paul paused.
"Yetta thought it was too sweet. It would've been a waste to throw it out. But you enjoyed it too, didn't you?"
I thought about how ridiculous I'd been the day before.
Posing with that cake, posting it on Instagram, telling the whole world—*three years in, and Paul still remembers I love strawberry.*
Friends had flooded the comments with hearts and envy.
They'd all known it was Yetta's rejected leftovers, and they'd stood by and watched me bask in a love that didn't exist.
The gate started boarding. I hung up.
I opened Yetta's Instagram from a burner account and scrolled all the way back to three years ago.
That's when I realized: every single "business trip" Paul had taken lined up perfectly with somewhere she'd been.
The night I was hospitalized with a fever, he told me a project was falling apart.
In the photo, he was celebrating Yetta's birthday at the beach, friends raising glasses around them.
The last picture in her album was from the day of our wedding.
I was in the front hall toasting guests. Paul was in the back room, kissing Yetta in her white dress.
His friends stood off to the side, laughing as they took the picture.
The caption read:
*Married the wrong girl, but true love never changes.*
The airport announcement started calling passengers to board.
Paul called again. I didn't pick up.
He sent two iMessages.
*Come home once you've cooled off.*
*Yetta needs a few household things for her new place. Pick them up for her on your way back.*
I turned off my phone and handed my boarding pass to the gate agent.
第2章
After the plane landed, I just picked a hotel at random.
Dahlonega was a small coastal town in the South, far from New York. Paul wouldn't chase me down that easily.
I was checking in when a moving group chat that had been silent for three years suddenly lit up.
*Mr. Adam, the furniture at the East Hampton house has been arranged. Please confirm.*
The group was still called "Paul & Elvira's Move"—but there, right in the member list, was Yetta.
The moving company sent a walkthrough video.
Every piece of furniture I'd hand-picked was sitting in Yetta's living room. Even the new mattress I'd just bought had been placed on Yetta's bed frame.
Yetta dropped a voice message in the chat.
"Move the dining table a little closer to the window. Paul says all of this is going to be mine from now on."
That dining table was one Paul and I had assembled together.
He'd been drenched in sweat, but he'd wrapped his arms around me and said:
"When we buy a new place someday, this table's coming with us."
He hadn't broken his promise.
He'd just moved it into Yetta's new house instead.
I contacted the movers privately and asked them to deliver my clothes and the things my parents had sent to the hotel.
Then I called Paul.
"Why did you give all my furniture to Yetta?"
His voice was even. "That furniture's three years old. I was going to replace it anyway."
"Yetta just moved in and needed things. Better to give it to her than throw it out."
I tightened my grip on the phone.
"What about the mattress? You'd been complaining about your back for months. I saved up three months of pay to get you that mattress."
He sighed softly, his voice going gentle.
"Elvira, I know you're attached to it."
"But Yetta didn't have time to buy one. She uses it every night—it's not something you can skimp on."
"I'll buy you a new mattress and new furniture. You won't lose out."
I hung up without arguing.
A little while later, he texted again.
*Tomorrow's our anniversary. I gave the movers your gift—it'll ship with the rest of your things.*
The next afternoon, my luggage arrived.
Next to the stacked boxes was a poster tube with no shipping label.
Inside was our wedding photo.
I asked the movers about it. They replied:
*The wedding photo wasn't on the packing list. I think the frame went to Yetta's place.*
My heart sank.
Three years ago, Paul had hung it above our bed and said he wanted to open his eyes every morning to a moment of our happiness together.
Now the picture was mine. The frame that had held it was Yetta's.
I threw the photo in the trash.
I opened the last box. Inside was a white Rimowa carry-on.
A sticky note was stuck to it.
*Our third anniversary's coming up. Come home once you've had enough of a break.*
My phone buzzed.
Yetta had posted on Instagram—matching suitcases, two first-class tickets to Dahlonega, and a custom honeymoon itinerary Paul had put together for her.
*The white one's too basic. Told Paul to use it to smooth things over with somebody.*
*No marriage certificate, but at least I finally got the honeymoon.*
I looked down at the white suitcase.
The wheels were dusty. The tag had been peeled off.
So Paul's anniversary gift was just Yetta's leftovers.
I opened the honeymoon itinerary again.
The hotels, the restaurants, the sights—all of it was the plan I'd researched and put together years ago.
Back then, Paul had only said, "Once we can afford it."
Now, the itinerary was untouched—except for the name of the companion.
When I checked out, the hotel manager came out holding the white suitcase I'd left behind.
"Elvira, aren't you taking this with you?"
"No. Please just throw it away."
第3章
That evening, I dragged my old suitcase to a café by the sea.
It was the most famous sunset spot in Dahlonega—also the first stop on the honeymoon itinerary I'd made three years ago.
The glass door swung open.
Yetta walked in wheeling a black suitcase, Paul behind her carrying her jacket.
The moment he saw me, the smile dropped off his face.
"What are you doing here?"
I lifted my coffee. "None of your business."
His eyes went to the window seat where I was sitting.
"You saw Yetta's Instagram, so you came here early to ambush us?"
"Elvira, I didn't think you were the type to say you wanted a divorce and then go snooping into our itinerary!"
Yetta looped her arm through his and murmured:
"It's only natural that Elvira can't let go of you."
"Since she came all this way, let her tag along for a day. I won't mind."
He frowned. "This is the honeymoon I'm making up for you. I'm not letting anyone ruin it."
Paul looked down at his phone.
Moments later, I got a text alert from the airline.
He'd booked Yetta first class. Me—economy.
Paul looked at me. "I don't blame you for coming after me, but it's not safe for you out here alone."
"Go home first. When the trip's over, I'll come and smooth things over with you."
My tone stayed flat. "Paul, I didn't come here for you."
He sighed and reached out to pat my head.
"Sure. You didn't come for me."
"You just happened to pick Dahlonega, happened to walk into this exact café, and happened to sit in the spot I marked on the itinerary."
I tilted my head away.
In his mind, no matter how far I ran, my only goal was to wait for him to come and make it up to me.
While he turned to comfort Yetta, I opened our shared airline account and deleted my information.
I wasn't using that return ticket.
And he didn't get to decide where I went anymore.
Just then, a wedding planner walked over with a folder and addressed the two of them:
"Mr. Adam, Mrs. Adam, tomorrow's seaside ceremony is all set."
My hand tightened around my cup.
So he hadn't just planned a honeymoon for Yetta.
Yetta shot me a look and made a point of correcting the planner:
"Please don't call me that. The real Mrs. Adam is sitting right there."
The planner froze, at a loss for what to say.
Paul pulled Yetta close and cleared his throat.
"It's just a ceremony in Dahlonega. Nothing legal."
The planner nodded awkwardly and set the designed welcome sign on the table.
*Paul Adam & Yetta Felix — Third Anniversary Ceremony*
My eyes locked onto "Third Anniversary."
Tomorrow marked three years since Paul and I had gotten married.
Yetta held onto his arm, smiling without a shred of shame.
"He may have married someone else, but his heart's always been mine."
Paul chuckled and reached down to smooth her wind-tousled hair.
The planner flipped open her schedule.
"The ceremony's currently set for the two of you. Would you like to add guest seating?"
Paul was about to answer when Yetta reached into her bag first and pulled out a medical report.
She took his hand and slowly laid it against her stomach.
"It's not two people."
"Paul, I'm pregnant."
