They Bet On How Fast I Would Cry On Our Anniversary Chapter 08

They Bet On How Fast I Would Cry On Our Anniversary Chapter 08

During these days, I moved into an apartment close to my office.

It wasn’t big.

But there were no cameras, no bets, and no one using my tears to prove a point.

For the first time in years, I could sleep through the night.

Two weeks later, Sophie found me.

She pulled off her hat and mask. Dark circles ringed her eyes.

“Ethan blocked me. Our friends blame me too.”

“Claire, happy now?”

I looked at her. “When you planned those games every year, did you ever ask me if I was happy?”

Her face stiffened. Then her eyes welled up again.

“I admit it. I love him.”

“But I was never actually with him.”

“He never kissed me. Never touched me.”

“We only took a few jokes too far. Why did you have to destroy everyone?”

They’d never actually kissed.

She’d never really been pregnant.

They’d never slept together.

So they’d convinced themselves that all the damage could be erased with one phrase. It was just a

joke.

When I said nothing, Sophie finally broke down.

“The first year, I just wanted to know if he’d choose me over you.

“Then I realized-if I called it a game, he’d go along with anything.”

“He was willing to say to your face that he regretted marrying you.”

“He was willing to hold me. To stage a fake wedding with me.’

“This year, he was even willing to promise he’d divorce you.”

Something almost twisted crossed her face.

“He chose me every year. How was I supposed to not read into it?”

Footsteps sounded behind us.

Ethan stood a short distance away, his face completely drained of color.

“You had Derek post that teaser on purpose?”

Sophie turned around. She stared at him for a few seconds.

Then she laughed. “Yes.”

“I just wanted to force you to choose me for once.”

“And didn’t you already choose me?”

“You lied for me. You forced Claire to say her pain wasn’t real.”

“Now that she’s actually left you, you’re going to dump all the blame on me?”

Ethan’s face went white.

Sophie looked him dead in the eye.

“Every answer came out of your own mouth. Every bet came from your own hand.”

“When she cried, weren’t you laughing too?”

“If she hadn’t left this year, there would’ve been a fifth game. Then a sixth.”

“Ethan, what makes you think you’re any less guilty than I am?”

He couldn’t answer a single word.

After Sophie left, Ethan stood in front of me, his voice hoarse.

“Claire, I honestly didn’t know she felt that way.”

“But you knew I’d get hurt.” I cut him off. “That’s enough.”

He reached for me. I stepped back and called security.

That night, Ethan released a second statement.

This time, he didn’t call it a harmless game between spouses.

He admitted that every game had been planned in advance.

He admitted I’d never agreed to any of it.

He admitted that every moment of pain from the past three years had been real.

At the end of the statement, he wrote: [The only person who needs to apologize is me.]

I read it and closed the page.

The truth could clear my name. But it couldn’t save our marriage.