Five years into my marriage, I discovered our marriage certificate was a fake.
The five years I thought were sacred vows, legally, never existed.
The loving husband I thought I had was legally married to someone else.
I left quietly, no arguments, no accusations.
But he regretted it.
0 I handed my medical report to the nurse. “Can’t I use my husband’s health insurance for payment now? Is his coverage sufficient?”
The nurse took my ID, typed some information into her computer, and frowned slightly. “Ms. Maxwell, your marital status shows as ‘single.’ We need your spouse’s ID and a valid marriage certificate to open your file.”
I froze. “That’s impossible. My husband and I registered five years ago.”
She turned the screen toward me—my marital status in the system was indeed blank.
My fingers turned icy cold. I pulled our marriage certificate from my bag. “See? This is our marriage certificate. There must be a system error.”
The nurse took the document, examined it closely, and her expression subtly shifted. “Your marriage certificate… it might be problematic.”
She picked up a UV pen from the desk and shone it on the official seal. A real Registrar’s Office seal would display security features under UV light. Mine showed nothing.
I remembered that day, five years ago. Marcus Thorne had insisted we use some special “private appointment” channel, claiming it would expedite the process at the Registrar’s Office.
Now, it all felt like a twisted joke.
I stumbled out of the hospital, my head spinning. The early summer sun stung my eyes.
Standing on the steps, I suddenly thought of Marcus when he was eighteen.
I had just started college, and I casually mentioned craving a specialty pastry from an old bakery across town. He skipped his afternoon classes, cycled across the entire city, and bought the last box just before the shop closed.
When he delivered it to my dorm, his white shirt was drenched with sweat, but he still smiled and said, “Taste it quickly, it’s best warm.”
On my twenty-fifth birthday, I was pulling an all-nighter in the lab, finishing a thesis. He waited downstairs until two in the morning, holding a thermal container filled with tiramisu he’d failed five times to make.
I scolded him for not going home sooner, but he kissed my fingers and said, “I have to be there for every important moment of your life.”
And now, at thirty, I stood on the hospital steps, clutching that torn, fake marriage certificate. I finally understood that those sweet moments were just seeds planted for this absurd drama unfolding today.
I walked out of the hospital in a daze, clutching the marriage certificate that had been declared a “forgery.”
Unconsciously, I found myself in the most bustling downtown mall.
I mechanically pushed open the glass doors, and the cool air washed over me.
Then, I saw them.
Marcus Thorne stood in front of a jewelry counter, impeccably dressed in a suit. Beside him, Scarlett Hayes was bending her head, trying on a diamond ring.
“Mr. Thorne is so thoughtful for his wife,” the sales associate beamed. “This is a limited edition piece; there are only three pairs in the entire city.”
Scarlett shyly pursed her lips, and when she looked up at Marcus, her eyes sparkled like stars. “Honey, do you like it?”
Honey.
The word was a blunt knife, slowly slicing open my heart.
Even more ironic, the diamond necklace around her neck was the exact same one Marcus had given me for my birthday last month, calling it a “one-of-a-kind gift.”
Now, it adorned another woman.
Marcus gently stroked her long hair, his voice filled with indulgence. “If you like it, we’ll buy it.”
The sales associate exclaimed enviously, “You two are truly a perfect match, made for each other!”
Made for each other?
What did that make me?
I stood hidden behind a marble pillar, gripping my ultrasound scan tightly.
A sudden sharp pain shot through my abdomen, as if the baby was weeping for this grotesque play.
My nails had dug into my palms at some point, but I felt no pain.
So, the happiness of these past few years, it was all a lie.
Since Marcus was so desperate to keep me in the dark, I would make him truly understand the consequences of deceiving me.
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