Six Years Trapped In A Broken Vow

Polla

lighting me while he built a new family with his mistress, F

ting husband. It was Chase from ten years ago-eigh

from his touch. He didn't know about the affair, the mi

"I would never hurt you, Aliyah," he cried, his y

the man he would become. The older Chase had sne

ion of my husband, saw my su

papers his future self had refused for years. "If

pte

long years. Six years of a marriage that was dead, but refused to lie down. Six yea

he smiled, crumbled them, or simply ignored them. He always said, "Aliyah, you're being dramatic. We'r

for freedom. I walked into the park, the one we used to love, the one now tainted by memories.

me. "Aliyah! What a surprise!" His eyes, bright and full of an unblemished joy I hadn'

th an idealism that hadn't yet been crushed, a love that hadn't curdled into poison. He looked exactly l

that felt alien and familiar all at once. "Gosh, I miss

ed the feeling of his arms, the scent of his skin, but my mind screamed betrayal.

ching mine. "Why do you look so... sad?" His thumb stroked my

week, a glossy birth announcement had arrived in the mail. His child. With her. He expected me

verything's just wonderful. Happily married, beautiful kids

'd make it. We were meant to be, Aliyah." He squeezed my

n for Dissolution of Marriage" staring up at him

g his face. "Mine? What for? Is this some kind of

ce was steady, too steady

is fingers brushing mine. They were soft, uncalloused, unlike the rough, indifferent hands of the man he would become. He pulled a pen fr

print, then back to the title. His face drained of color, his jaw slacked, and the pen c

about? We're... we're married. Happily married, you just said." He looked up at me, his eyes wide wi

inside me, a ghost of the love I once felt for him. This boy, this pure, untainted version of Chase, was everyth

a future filled with laughter and children, a cozy home by the sea. He was the man who would spend hours talking about our dream house, the on

e, in a sharper, more defined way, but the light in his eyes had been replaced by a calculating

divorce papers. "You're mine, Aliyah. Always have been, always will be. Where would you even go? Who would w

still pure. His eyes, though brimming with

voice cracking. "Tell me this isn't

g akin to pity, but mostly, a deep, we

I said, my voice fla

to us?" He clung to the papers as if they were a lifeline, even as they threatened to te

't a sudden fall, but a slow, insidious decay. It started with subtle shifts, a new jun

aced with an admiration I hadn't heard directed at me

wonderful, honey. It's good to be a mentor." I truste

e started missing our dinner dates, our movie nights. He'd co

lp him with. I dressed up anyway, waiting for hours, until a text message pinged on my phone: "Sorry, babe. Faye ne

You're secure. Faye needs my support. You're strong enough to understand that, aren't you?" He' d called me understandin

mbling home. My questions were met with accusations. "You're b

, the late-night calls he took in hushed tones - he' d turn it back on me. "Faye has a tough life, Aliyah.

, once so vibrant, felt like a tattered flag, barely clinging to its pole. It wasn't until I

ezvous, pet names, inside jokes. And photos. Photos of them, laughing, intimate, in places

my privacy, Aliyah! You're sick, you know that? Obsessive! You went through my phone like a

the problem. That my suspicions were unfounded, my pain exaggerated. But the texts, the physical evidence, they shattered his lies. I finally saw

ash decision, Aliyah," he'd said, tearing up the pap

or the comfortable life I provided for him. He wanted to keep me trapp

A diamond ring sparkling on her own finger. The caption read, "Our little family is complete. So blessed to have my two loves." T

... this can't be true. I would never... I would never do that to you, Aliyah. I swear!" He was shaking, a

isunderstanding? Maybe I was coerced? Manipulated?" He looked at me, desp

d, the futile hope draining from his face. His blue eyes, once so full of light, clouded over wi

comfort him. But that Aliyah was long gone, buried under years of betray

e legal jargon a stark contrast to his raw emotion. "If you sign them,

a drowning man to a life raft. A month. Thirty days. For him, it

hase?" I asked, my voice calm,

He picked up the pen, his hand still trembling. He looked at me on

ll, a stark, wet stain on the official document. His future self had refused for years, but th

hoarse, "but if this is what you need... I'll do it.

the signed papers. The cooling-off period had begun.

Polla