My Wife Married Me Just to Break My Heart

When my girlfriend was at her lowest, I broke up with her.

Years later, after she found success and fame, she used every means possible to marry me.

Everyone said I was her one true love, her most treasured husband.

But in reality, every night she brought a different man home, shattering my heart and turning me into a laughingstock.

I never fought back. I never cried or argued. I simply moved into the study, quietly staying out of her way.

She hated that. One night, furious, she kissed me roughly and whispered, "Aren't you jealous?"

What she didn't know was that I was sick.

While she spent each day trying to hurt me, I was silently counting down how many days I had left to live.

1

In the third year of our marriage, my wife, Claire, started keeping a young, handsome college student.

His name was Ryan. He was tall, good-looking, and exactly Claire's type.

She kept him around for over six months—longer than any of the others.

My friends warned me to be careful. They said Claire seemed genuinely attached to Ryan.

The first time I met him was on my birthday.

That morning, I'd woken up with a nosebleed that wouldn't stop. At the hospital, the doctor told me I probably wouldn't live past spring next year.

I nodded calmly and said, "That's fine."

I wasn't afraid of dying—I just didn't want it to hurt.

There was an expensive medication that could ease the pain, but I didn't have enough money to afford it.

So, I went to Claire's office to ask for help.

That's where I ran into Ryan. He had just graduated and was working as Claire's assistant.

Claire was in a meeting, so I sat in the lobby to wait.

Ryan kept glancing at me, then leaned over to whisper to his coworkers, "So, that's the husband? He looks awful—so skinny and sickly, like he's on his deathbed."

He laughed and added, "People say I look like him, but I don't see it. I'm way better looking."

I caught my reflection in the glossy glass wall. Messy hair, a puffy coat that made me look even frailer.

He wasn't wrong. I wasn't much to look at—just a man waiting to die.

A coworker nudged him and whispered, "Don't underestimate him. If he cleaned up, you wouldn't even compare. And don't forget, Claire loves him. If you piss him off, she'll destroy you."

2

Ryan wasn't convinced. He rolled his eyes and smirked.

He brought me a cup of tea and asked mockingly, "So, Mr. Baker, why is Claire making you wait so long? It's weird—whenever I stop by, no matter how busy she is, she always makes time for me. She says I'm her priority."

He smiled smugly, and for a moment, I saw a bit of my younger self in him.

I thought about it. Claire did treat Ryan differently.

She'd had countless lovers over the years, using them as pawns in her game to provoke me. Every night, she brought home someone new, testing my limits.

But she never kept them around for long. A day or two, maybe a week. She always got bored quickly.

Ryan, though, was different. She spoiled him. She took him out to dinner, shopping, and movies. They acted l...