On Our Fifth Anniversary My Husband Begged Me Not to Leave Chapter 01

On Our Fifth Anniversary My Husband Begged Me Not to Leave Chapter 01

It took me three whole years to win over Ethan Hayes—that unattainable, untouchable man.

Then I sacrificed my entire career to become Mrs. Hayes, the woman everyone envied.

But on our fifth wedding anniversary, I decided to file for divorce.

My best friend, who also happened to be a lawyer, asked me over and over, “Are you sure? You turned down an offer from Vogue to marry him, and now you’re telling me you want out?”

I forced down the bitterness rising in my throat. “Just draft the divorce papers for me. The sooner, the better.”

She couldn’t understand. “Why?!”

I stared at the lavishly wrapped bouquet of black datura lying on the dining table, and I gave her my final answer.

“Because of a bouquet of flowers.”

***

When the flowers first arrived today, I’d actually been happy.

I thought Ethan had finally come around—that he’d prepared a surprise for our anniversary.

But the moment I opened the little card tucked inside, my smile froze at the corners of my mouth.

[Thank you, Dr. Hayes, for traveling all this way to perform my aunt’s surgery. Our whole family is so grateful. I picked these flowers specially for you—I think they really suit ‘us.’ I hope you like them. —Maren Walsh]

My hand trembled. The bouquet crashed heavily to the floor.

Three years ago, my father was dying.

The doctors said he needed surgery immediately. But the medical facilities in our small town were primitive, and my father was too fragile to survive a long-distance transfer.

I cried and begged Ethan to go to my hometown and operate on my dad.

He refused. “Our hospital strictly prohibits moonlighting. Work is work. I can’t break the rules for personal reasons.”

Later, my father died in the ambulance on the way to a better hospital.

It’s a regret I’ll carry for the rest of my life.

For my father’s funeral, I deliberately chose black datura. Its meaning—unpredictable death and love—was his flower, and mine.

But it turns out there was nothing unpredictable about any of it.

How many nights have I woken in the darkness, seeing my father’s gray hair in his final hours, crying until my whole body seized with spasms?

I told myself over and over that I couldn’t blame Ethan. Everyone has principles they hold sacred.

But it turns out rules could be broken. Principles could bend.

I just wasn’t worth it.

After I’d explained the divorce arrangements to my best friend, I hung up the phone.

Calmly, I swept up all the ribbons and balloons I’d carefully set up and tossed them straight into the trash.

Then I opened my browser and typed in a few words: Route 66 road trip guide.

Snow-capped peaks. Grasslands. Lakes. A winding highway stretching all the way to the horizon.

Once, my father and I made a pact—that one day, we’d take a camera, jump in a car, and drive Route 66 together.

After he died, Ethan tried to comfort me. He said he would take my father’s place and complete that unfinished journey.

But that year, Ethan had just been promoted to attending physician. He was swamped—too busy to even eat.

He needed a full-time wife to take care of him, to keep his home life running smoothly.

So I shut down my photography studio. I went from being a photographer to being Mrs. Hayes.

Even though that same year, I’d won a national photography award and had offers from multiple top-tier companies. My future was blindingly bright.

But I gave it all up without a second thought.

Later, Ethan became the youngest cardiac surgery director in the state—a nationally recognized expert in his field.

For a while, I convinced myself my sacrifices had been worth it.

Looking back now, it’s almost laughable.

The click of the front door lock snapped me out of my thoughts.

Ethan was home.

He shrugged off his coat, scanned the empty dining table, and frowned.

“Where’s dinner?”

I kept my eyes fixed on my laptop screen without looking up. “Didn’t feel like cooking. I’m tired.”

His frown deepened. “More tired than I am after a full shift?”

Before I could answer, his phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID and picked up almost instantly.

“What is it?”

A gentle female voice came through the line. His tight expression visibly relaxed. He even smiled a little.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right there.”

Over the speaker, I heard the teasing voices of his hospital colleagues.

“Hey, Nurse Walsh is calling in the reinforcements again.”

“Dr. Hayes, get over here quick—our head nurse is about to lose it.”

Laughter filled the background. The atmosphere was light and playful, with a little spark of excitement—like they were rooting for a real-life romance.

And me? I was his legally wedded wife, and I felt like an outsider.

After hanging up, Ethan shrugged his coat back on.

I couldn’t stop myself. “Maren Walsh?”

His movements paused for a split second. “A patient’s having complications. She had no choice but to call me. It’s life or death, Stella—don’t let your imagination run wild.”

With that, he turned and walked out.

I watched his retreating back.

It hit me—last week, he’d rushed out the exact same way, saying he had a three-day business trip.

I know now it wasn’t a business trip.

He drove three hundred miles to perform surgery on Maren Walsh’s aunt.

“Ethan.”

I called his name. He turned around. “Yeah?”

I looked at him and asked softly, “Do you remember what day it is today?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “June first?”

I laughed.

He’d really forgotten.

Today was our wedding anniversary. Our fifth.

Thank god—it would also be our last.

“It’s nothing.” I pulled my gaze away. “Go focus on your work.”

Ethan stared at me for a moment, like he sensed something was off. After a pause, he forced out a stiff sentence. “I’ll come back as soon as I’m done. Want me to bring you something for a late dinner?”

I shook my head. “No.”

I won’t need anything from you ever again.

After Ethan left, I changed my clothes and went to the restaurant I’d reserved a week ago.

Fireworks lit up the sky. Couples sat in pairs everywhere. I was the only one dining alone.

The waitress asked, “Ma’am, when will your other guest be arriving?”

I smiled faintly. “They’re not coming.”

They’ll never come again.

After dinner, I called a car dealership.

“I want to order an SUV—something with solid performance that can handle a Route 66 road trip. My budget is around eighty thousand.”

The manager told me there was a model that matched my requirements, but it was backordered due to high demand. I’d have to wait a week for delivery.

Seven days. That was enough time to let go of the past and untangle this mess of a marriage.

“I’ll take that one. I’ll come pick it up in a week.”

After hanging up, I opened my browser and went back to scrolling through Route 66 road trip guides.

Photo after photo slid past my eyes. The dream I’d shelved for five years seemed to stir back to life, fresh and vivid again.

Not long after, my best friend called to tell me the divorce agreement was drafted and already in my inbox.

I made a soft “Mm” in acknowledgement.

She was quiet for a moment, then couldn’t help asking, “Stella, you love him so much. Can you really let him go?”

I asked her in return, “Have you ever seen Ethan throw away his principles for someone? Seen him drop everything and rush in without a second thought?”

“No,” she answered honestly. “I haven’t.”

“I have.” I gazed out the window at the vast, dark city and smiled bitterly. “But it wasn’t for me.”