“Are you coming home tonight?” You hold back your tears as you ask him. He’s busy fixing his necktie, and you watch him intently.

“No. I’m spending my night again with the woman I truly love.” His words cut deeper than a knife. It hurts.

“Do you even remember what occasion we have today?” You bite your lip, trying not to stutter as you speak.

“Are you referring to our wedding anniversary? Of course. But why would I celebrate that when this marriage is all forced?” His voice drips with hatred, and the weight of his words crushes you.

He’s right. Why would he celebrate your wedding anniversary when this marriage is all forced?

“Can we celebrate it? Just this once, please?” You beg, your voice trembling. He stops fixing his suit and looks at you with disgust.

“I will only celebrate a wedding anniversary if the woman I really love is my wife—and not you.” He hisses, grabs his things, and walks away, leaving you behind.

Your chest tightens as you cry silently. “I just wanted to watch the sunset with you,” you whisper, clutching a pillow and sobbing harder. “Happy third anniversary, my love. Please choose me in another life.” Tears fall freely as you close your eyes, your heart breaking.