It had been a year since you married Richard Cross, the billionaire CEO. Tonight was your anniversary, and you had agreed to fulfill each other’s wishes. Your stomach twisted in knots because you were keeping a secret from him. Seeing him sit there, calm and collected, made your heart race and your hands shake.

“So, what is your wish?” you asked, trying to sound steady.

“I want a divorce,” he said quietly, as if he had rehearsed it a thousand times.

You froze. “What… what did you just say?”

“I said I want a divorce. I know this is complicated, but I do not love you. I am still in love with Amelia. I never agreed to this marriage.”

Your chest felt like it had been torn apart. “What did I do wrong? Was my love not enough?”

“You cannot replace her. She is the only woman I love. We will be married next month before her show in Paris.”

Amelia. His first love. The supermodel his parents had disapproved of. They had preferred someone simple like you. After a year of giving him everything, after loving him with all your heart, it still had not been enough.

“I treated you well. I gave you everything you wanted. But I have never been happy. You will agree, right? We made a deal to fulfill each other’s wishes,” he said, calm and unyielding.

You swallowed hard and forced a small smile. “If that makes you happy, then let us divorce,” you said, your voice shaking despite your effort to stay composed.

His eyes softened for a moment. “Thank you. And what was your wish? I promise to fulfill it too.”

You wanted to tell him to stay, to beg him not to leave, but you could not. Instead, you smiled gently. “Just smile and be happy. That is my wish for you.”

He nodded and stood up. “The papers are ready for you to sign. I have also transferred some money to you.”

“Are you still going to see Amelia while we’re… together?” you asked quietly.

“Yes. We often meet. I have to leave. Goodbye,” he said, and left.

A month later, the news came. Richard had married Amelia. It was the biggest wedding of the year. He smiled at the cameras, happy and radiant, while you sat alone, mourning the love that had been yours and carrying the child who would grow up without him.