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"Honey, I'm finally coming home!" That was the message Ethan Carter sent me after three years away. But he was one day too late. That morning, I had just walked out of court with our divorce decree. For 1,095 days, my husband said he was caring for his sick mother. I believed him. I lived alone in our apartment. I took care of his grandmother. I watered the dead flowers he never noticed. Then I found Serena Collins's vlog. Ethan was there when she woke up. There for every meal. There whenever she needed a hand to hold. When I had acute appendicitis and begged him to come home, he never answered. When Serena wanted a cake, he decorated it by hand. He said she was just a friend. Then he came home carrying her medicine. He took her to visit his grandmother. He bought her dresses. He draped his jacket over her shoulders while snapping at me to close the door. At dinner, his grandmother pressed their hands together. "When are the two of you getting married?" Serena smiled and corrected her. "Claire is Ethan's wife." I looked at them quietly. Not anymore. At the final divorce hearing, the judge asked the usual questions. "You've only been married for three years. Are you certain the marriage is beyond repair?" I pressed my lips together, slipped off my wedding ring, and placed it on the table. "We've been married for three years, Your Honor, and we've spent all three of them living apart. What feelings could possibly be left between us?" During the two years Ethan Carter and I dated, my chat was pinned at the top of his WhatsApp, I was listed as his emergency contact, and he'd even listed me as someone to contact in an emergency. I truly believed I'd chosen the right man. Then, on our wedding day, he answered a call and his expression suddenly changed. When I asked what was wrong, he told me his mother wasn't doing well. He left everything behind, booked the first flight back to his hometown, and disappeared from my life that same day. For the ne
