He Let Another Woman Play My Wife, So I Walked Away as His Real Wife Chapter 01

He Let Another Woman Play My Wife, So I Walked Away as His Real Wife Chapter 01

My husband loved seeing me get jealous whenever another woman got too close to him.

He always said the more I minded another woman being around him, the more it proved I loved him.

So every year on our wedding anniversary, he would have his friend Claire Morgan pretend to be “Mrs. Whitmore” for a few days, then place bets with his friends on how long it would take before I finally snapped.

The first year, Claire took one of my custom-made gowns without asking and posed for photos with him.

I told her to take it off right then and there, but Gavin only kissed me and laughed, saying my reaction proved I couldn’t live without him.

The second year, he gave Claire our master bedroom and told me to sleep in the guest room.

I told Claire to move out on the spot. Only then did he open the bedroom door and say she was staying for just one night.

Last year, he brought Claire to the Whitmore family dinner, let her sit in my usual seat, and stood by while his parents called her “Mrs. Whitmore” in front of everyone.

Only when I got up and walked away did he chase after me and grab my arm.

“It’s just a title. Do you really need to get this upset over it?”

This year, they decided to push their little game even further.

Claire showed up at our apartment with a suitcase. Then she pulled out a newly cut set of keys and asked me in front of all our friends,

“Gavin said I get to be ‘Mrs. Whitmore’ for seven days. You’re not going to get worked up over that, are you?”

Gavin Whitmore draped an arm around her shoulders, openly waiting for my reaction.

“If she really loves me, she’ll get jealous.”

Everyone waited for me to lose my temper like I had in previous years, then for Gavin to laugh and announce that their little game was over.

But this time, I simply went back to the bedroom and packed my things.

Before I left, I placed my wedding ring and the apartment key in Gavin’s palm.

“Seven days is too short. Let her keep the role from now on.”

…

Gavin didn’t come after me when I walked out of the apartment.

Behind me, his friends were still laughing and egging him on.

“Looks like Erin’s changed tactics this year.”

“Gavin, don’t call the game off too soon.”

Gavin let out a low laugh.

“She’s not actually leaving me. Three days, tops. She’ll be back on her own.”

That same night, he started another betting pool in the group chat.

Gavin put down a sizable sum, betting that I wouldn’t make it seventy-two hours before coming back.

To force me to contact him first, he added Claire’s fingerprint to the smart lock and handed her the spare key to the apartment.

Wearing my slippers, Claire posted a photo of the keys beside breakfast in the group chat.

The caption read:

[Mrs. Whitmore Challenge: Day One.]

Their friends immediately piled on with jokes.

[Master bedroom challenge tonight.]

[Claire should get to drive Erin’s car for a couple of days too.]

Gavin didn’t stop them. Instead, he replied directly:

[Car keys are on the second shelf of the entryway cabinet.]

By the time I saw the post, I was unpacking in an old apartment my parents had left me.

No one had lived there in years. Dust coated the windowsills, and the faucets were starting to rust.

But at least here, no one treated my place in my own marriage like a prize in some challenge.

The first year, when Claire wore my custom-made gown without permission, I had lost my temper in front of everyone.

Gavin came after me, stopped me, and spent ages explaining himself. He said he only wanted to see whether I would get jealous because of Claire.

He even promised me,

“This is the first time, and the last.”

Now Claire was standing inside my walk-in closet, trying on one custom-made gown after another.

She even dug out my watches and brooches and started a livestream, asking everyone to vote on which look made her seem the most like “Mrs. Whitmore.”

She pinned one of my brooches to her outfit and adjusted her collar in front of the camera.

“What about this one?”

Gavin was sitting nearby. He glanced at her once.

“You look better in it than she does.”

The livestream erupted with laughter.

Someone asked why I wasn’t there.

Claire leaned back against the sofa, putting on an exaggeratedly helpless expression.

“Erin Carter really can’t take a joke. It’s only a challenge. I was just helping Gavin with it. Who knew she’d actually move out? But everyone knows she’ll be back sooner or later.”

Gavin picked up where she left off.

“She’ll come back once she’s calmed down.”

A few moments later, a message from him appeared on my phone.

[A marriage needs a bit of excitement too. No need to get this worked up over a joke.]

[If moving out is how you’re showing me you’re upset, then come and collect the rest of your things as well.]

When I returned to the apartment, the lock no longer recognized my fingerprint.

In the end, Claire was the one who opened the door for me.

She was wearing my watch and my slippers.

The bedding in the master bedroom had already been replaced with a pale blue set she liked. All my toiletries had been packed into a cardboard box.

Even our wedding photo had been taken down from the nightstand and propped against the wall. The box obscured half of Gavin’s face and half of mine.

Gavin pushed the cardboard box toward me.

“Erin, if you moved out just to make me come after you, once was enough.”

Claire leaned against the master bedroom doorframe and looked at me.

“Want me to move into the guest room?”

She asked, but made absolutely no move to leave the room.

Gavin answered for her.

“No. If she’s meant to be playing Mrs. Whitmore, she stays in the master bedroom.”

Then he turned to me, wearing that familiar smile.

He was clearly waiting for me to lose my temper, throw Claire out, or force him to choose between us in front of everyone.

Instead, I simply picked up the cardboard box.

“Anything else?”

For the first time, Gavin’s smile faded.

He stared at me for several seconds before his voice turned noticeably colder.

“Erin, you’re putting on a very convincing act this time. Let’s see how many more days you can keep it up.”

I didn’t answer. I turned around and closed the door behind me.