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Three years ago, he dove into FIRE to save me. So I gave him ONE free pass. Guess what he spent it on? SCREWING MY BEST FRIEND. Like a fool, I forgave him. Three years of being the "perfect husband"—daily location sharing, constant apologies, swearing he'd changed. Then I got pregnant. Flew 1,000 miles to surprise him. Yeah. "Surprise." Walked in on them NA//KED on our couch. AGAIN. But the cheating? Just the warm-up. My "best friend?" MURDERED my mom—ripped out her oxygen tube in the ICU and SMILED as she died. Framed ME as the mistress. Got me fired. My baby? DEAD. They thought I'd just disappear and play the fool AGAIN. Worst mistake of their lives. Came back with the country's most ruthless lawyer and a DEATH WISH. Her: Death row. Him: 10 years rotting in prison. And me? I'm getting married to a man who'd actually die for me—while sipping champagne and watching their lives BURN TO THE GROUND. [How Did You Forgive Your Boyfriend for Cheating?] I was in an Uber heading home from the airport when this thread popped up on my feed. Scrolling through page after page of stories about betrayal and broken trust, my fingers went numb as I started typing: [Five years ago, there was a fire at the mall. Everyone was running for their lives, but he fought back through the crowd to reach me. I was pregnant, could barely move, and he carried me out.] [A beam came down on him, crushed his arm so bad you could see bone. But he never let go—kept me tucked against him, shielded me from everything. When we got out, I didn't have a mark on me.] [We lost the baby that day. But right then, I made myself a promise: no matter what he ever does, he gets one FREE PASS. Forever.] Someone commented that he must be crazy in love with me. Seeing this, I couldn't help but laugh—bitter, hollow—as I typed back: [Guess what? He bu//rned through it in less than a year. Because I caught him at a hotel, tangled up in bed with my best friend.] That day, Damien Cross on his knees, face soaked with tears, voice breaking as he swore it was just a moment of weakness, that he'd lost his mind. I told him we were done. That's when he threw that free pass in my face, eyes bloodshot and desperate, grabbing my wrists so tight it hurt: "You leave me, I'll kill myself! I swear to God!" One sentence. That's all it took to keep me trapped for three more years. Blinking hard against the sting in my eyes, I took a shaky breath and kept typing with a forced smile: [But I really think he's changed. Even with a thousand miles between us, he checks in every single day. Three years running. Never missed once.] [And now I'm pregnant again. Flew out here to surprise him with the news. Maybe we're finally ready to move forward. Start over.] I locked my phone, that hopeful smile still on my face as I pushed open the door. Then the smell hit me. Unmistakable, sickening scent. I froze. On the couch, someone was tangled up with a woman—both of them bare. It was Damien. The same scene that had played out five years ago was unfolding before me all over again. The air went dead silent. Damien moved fast, pulling Serena behind him like she was the one who needed protecting: "Iris, what are you doing here?" His tone—sharp, defensive, accusing—yanked me straight back to five years ago. Same scene. Same betrayal. Damien tangled up in bed with my best friend while I stood there like an idi0t in the doorway. Those same hands that had gripped me through literal flames, that had refused to let go even as his skin bu//rned away—now an iron wall between me and Serena. "This was all on me! Serena didn't do anything wrong!" In this moment, it was as if they were the lovers, and I was the one getting in their way. I took a deep breath, waiting for the rage, the tears, the full-on breakdown. But when I finally spoke, all that came out was: "Congrats." Congrats on finding your way back to each other after five years. How touching. Damien froze. I let my gaze drift around the room. Matching slippers by the door—baby blue and soft pink, Serena's signature colors. Even the coffee mugs on the table fit together to make a perfect little heart. Every corner of this place screamed happy couple. And me? More like the the outsider who'd walked into someone else's love story. Damien stepped toward me, reaching for my hand: "Iris, just listen to me—Serena's been struggling with really bad depression..." Empty words. But not once did he deny loving her. My eyes dropped to the scar snaking down his forearm. Five years ago, a bu//rning beam had crashed down on him while he shielded me from the flames. The gash had been so deep you could see straight to the bone. But even then, he'd smiled through the pain, voice soft and relieved: "Thank God my Iris is safe." Now, I took a deliberate step back, putting space between us: "Let's get divorced. I won't stand in your way anymore." Damien's mouth kept moving, words spilling out in a desperate rush, but I couldn't process a single one. My head was swimming. Pregnancy had made my sense of smell razor-sharp, and the raw, unmistakable scent still lingering in the air made my stomach twist violently. I gagged, pressing a hand to my mouth. His expression shifted instantly—defensive, almost offended. His voice shot up: "You think I'm disgusting?!" "I messed up before, I know that—but I've done everything to make it right!" "The last three years, I've been living like I'm under surveillance! You've had me reporting every move, every breath—what more do you want from me?! You gonna hold this divorce over my head for the rest of my life?!" His face was flushed, jaw tight, eyes wild with frustration. But my mind flashed back— Three years ago, he was the one who'd insisted on checking in. He was the one who'd begged to share his location with me. I'd said no. That's when he grabbed my hand, pressed it hard against his ch//est, eyes red and brimming with tears: "Iris, I know you don't trust me anymore. God, I'd cut myself open and show you my heart if I could!" Now, the room fell into a suffocating silence. Suddenly, Serena threw herself at me, sobbing, her body still covered in marks: "Iris, this is all my fault! You can hit me—I deserve it!" I stared down at her, and for a split second, I didn't recognize the woman kneeling at my feet. Her voice cracked as she continued, words tumbling out between sobs: "I was so selfish... I threw myself at him, I couldn't stop myself... but you're the one he loves! You've always been the one!" "Please don't get divorced. This is all on me. I'll leave right now, I swear!" Her tears kept falling, each one like a blade sinking deeper into my ch//est. I could feel the blood draining from my heart, my hands going numb at my sides. Five years ago, Serena had stood in front of me, eyes red and swollen, voice breaking: "I'm so sorry, Iris. I swear... You'll never have to see my face again." Five years later, and here I was—walking in on them tangled up in bed. Again. Serena and I had been inseparable since we were kids—same preschool, same schools, same college. She'd been part of my life for over twenty years. She used to say we were basically the same person, just in different bodies. Oh. So that's what she meant. We even go for the same guys. Now, Serena let out a broken sob and stumbled toward the door. Then her whole body went stiff, and she dropped like a stone. "Serena!" The color drained from Damien's face. He lunged forward, catching her mid-fall and scooping her up like she might shatter in his arms. In a panic, he shoved me so hard my lower back cracked against the corner of the table. A vicious pain instantly tore through my abdomen. My vision went dark at the edges. My knees buckled, and I hit the floor. Through the fog, I reached out, fingers trembling: "Hospital... please... it hurts—" But all I got was the cold, flat disappointment in Damien's eyes: "Iris, now's not the time for your drama." In the end, Damien did call an ambulance. But only after Serena was safely in his arms. The last thing I felt was a tearing, brutal pain ripped through my lower abdomen. When I finally opened my eyes again, a nurse stood beside my bed, her expression soft with pity: "You're still young. There will be other chances." It felt like someone had carved a hole straight through my ch//est. The baby was gone. And so was Damien's heart. Maybe this was the universe's way of telling me it was time to let go. I pressed a hand to my empty stomach, and I couldn't tell if I was laughing or crying. Footsteps echoed from the doorway. Damien walked in, hesitating, like he was trying to find the right words. Finally, he spoke: "Iris... Serena's pregnant." I slipped the miscarriage report behind my back, keeping my voice steady as I nodded: "Congrats. Guess you're finally gonna be a dad." Just not to my child. The word hit him. His face twisted with conflicting emotions: "I was always careful. I swear. I don't know how this happened." "Look, this isn't what I wanted—" I cut him off before he could finish, my voice strangely flat: "Have you thought of a name yet? What about Annie?" Five years ago, when I'd gotten pregnant the first time, Damien had picked that name himself. Annie. He'd said it meant peace, safety. A promise. I still remember when Serena first found out I was pregnant—she'd burst through my door with her arms full of baby gear, practically bouncing with excitement: "Okay, I'm officially calling dibs on godmother. Non-negotiable!" Damien had literally swept me off my feet, spinning me around the apartment, laughing like he'd won the lottery: "Annie. Our little girl's gonna be Annie. And I'm gonna protect you both—no matter what. I promise!" Now, I just stared at him. Damien froze for a second. Then the guilt on his face twisted into something else entirely—anger. "Iris, do you have to be so passive-aggressive right now?!" My calm, detached tone had clearly set him off. He closed the distance between us in two strides, grabbing my wrist hard enough to leave marks: "I know I messed up, okay? I know that. But Serena is your best friend!" "After everything went down five years ago, she moved to London. Completely alone. And you know what? Even when protests were turning violent in her neighborhood, she still didn't come back—because she knew seeing her would hurt you!" "She's been thinking about your feelings this whole time! She breaks down crying every time we're together because the guilt is eating her alive—and you're just gonna sit here acting like she's the villain?!" At our wedding, Damien had taken my hand in front of everyone, looked Serena straight in the eye, and said with absolute conviction: "Iris is my life. I love her every bit as much as you do." Now, that memory shattered into a thousand pieces. I stared into his furious eyes and felt myself smile—cold, hollow: "So let's get divorced. You marry her. Problem solved. She won't have to feel guilty anymore." Damien's expression tightened, frustration flashing across his face: "That's not what I meant—" "You really want her kid to grow up a b@stard?" The word stopped him. "Or are you gonna ask her to get an ab0rtion?" His fingers went limp around my wrist. He squeezed his eyes shut, face twisting in pain. The silence stretched out, suffocating. Finally, his voice came out hoarse and cracked: "Iris... I never wanted to divorce you..." He never wanted to divorce me. But he also never planned on loving only me. A nurse came rushing through the door, breathless and panicked: "Oh no—Ms. Blake is on the roof—she's saying she's going to jump!" On the rooftop ledge, Serena stood with tears pouring down her face, her feet already positioned at the edge: "This is all my fault! I destroyed Iris—I should just die!" "Me and this baby that never should've happened... we'll end it right now..." Damien's entire body went rigid. He started toward the door, then stopped abruptly—turning back to look at me. I gave him a small, detached smile: "Go ahead. You know exactly how much it hurts to feel that way." For a long time after Damien and I reconciled, I couldn't pull myself out of the darkness. Every time I closed my eyes, I was right back there—standing in that hotel doorway, watching them tangled together. The depression hit hard. I tried to finish it more than once. And every single time, Damien was the one who saved me. Now, something flickered behind his eyes—torn, conflicted. But in the end, he bolted for the door: "Just wait here. I'll be right back." I unlocked my phone and pulled up the first available flight. Twenty-four hours ago, I'd been clutching a pregnancy test, heart bursting with joy, flying across the country to surprise him. Now, I was booking the fastest ticket out. But this time, it was to leave him. Outside, Damien pulled Serena off the ledge and into his arms, holding her like she might slip away. No one noticed me ripping out my IV and walking out of the hospital alone. I made it all the way to the gate, boarding pass ready in my hand. That's when the agent stopped me: "I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's no ticket under your name." I was about to say something when my phone suddenly rang. Mom's voice came through, sharp and furious: "Iris Wade, we didn't raise you to be a homewrecker!" "Your father's in the hospital—his heart can't take this! Get back here. NOW!" Homewrecker? I opened my mouth to explain, but she'd already hung up. Dad had just had open-heart surgery. Any kind of shock could kill him! I instanly pulled up the airline app with shaking hands. But just found the ticket had been canceled. Thirty minutes ago. Only one person had access to my account. Damien. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely get my ID out to buy another ticket. Then someone grabbed my wrist. I spun around. Damien's face was twisted into something I'd never seen before—dark, almost scary: "Go apologize to Serena. Now." He started dragging me toward the exit. I ripped my arm away: "Let go! She's the one who s1ept with my husband—why should I say sorry?!" His eyes were completely bloodshot: "Cut the act! If you didn't set this up, who else went after her? Who else dragged her into some back alley?!" "When I found her, her clothes were half torn off! Yeah, I messed up with you, but how could you do that to her?! She's your best friend!" "If you've got any conscience at all, you'll go say you're sorry!" Damien's voice was loud enough that heads turned. I could feel everyone staring—judging, disgusted. My voice came out shaky: My voice came out shaky: "Damien, I swear I didn't do this!" "My dad just had a heart attack—I need to get home!" Damien wouldn't hear a word of it. Just grabbed me and practically threw me in the car. I looked around at the interior—every detail I'd chosen when we got married, all ripped out and replaced. My voice came out flat, hollow: "Five years together, and you won't even believe me?" His jaw clenched. Didn't say a thing. Just floored it. At the hospital, Serena was in bed, bruises all over her arms and legs. The second she saw me, she forced a weak smile: "Iris... I'm not mad at you. I'm the one who wrecked your marriage—you can do whatever you want to me. I get it." Her voice went all shaky. "I just... I don't wanna lose you..." Serena's face scrunched up like she was in serious pain. Damien took off to grab a doctor. The second Damien walked out, Serena's face went ice-cold, twisted with venom: "So... how's your dad holding up? Think his heart could take what I sent him?" My stomach dropped. I stared at her in disbelief: "That was YOU?!!" She just nodded, casual as he11, like she was talking about the weather. I lost it. My voice came out raw, almost a scream: "I'm already leaving him! What else do you want?!" Her face twisted into something ug1y, full of pure hate, like she wanted to tear me apart with her bare hands: "I'm carrying his baby! But he STILL won't leave you! What do you have that I don't?!" "I want to watch you suffer!" I completely lost it. My hand cracked across her face. But before I could even proceed, Damien burst back in and shoved me hard: "That's enough!" Instantly, Serena switched back—soft, fragile, holding her cheek as tears spilled down her face: "Do I seriously have to die before you'll forgive me...?" My eyes were stinging. I clenched my jaw so hard I tasted blood, forcing the tears back: "Damien, I want a divorce. Now!" I yanked the divorce papers out of my bag and slammed them onto the table. Serena's eyes flashed with victory. She started to open her mouth— Damien snatched up the papers and ripped them to pieces. A cold laugh escaped him: "NO WAY! I’ll never let you go!"