A Misaligned Marriage
Chapter 1
It was our third wedding anniversary, and
Mark gave me a pair of matching sneakers.
Lying on the operating table, staring at my
messed–up leg, I told him I wanted a divorce.
Not long after, his childhood sweetheart,
bless her heart, called with a sob in her voice.
“Ashley, I’m the one who got you the gift,
okay? If you’re upset, yell at me, whatever,
just don’t be mad at Mark.”
Mark hugged her, comforting her for what felt
like forever before finally getting on the
phone with me, his voice cold: “You can’t
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even hold down a job, Ashley, you’re a cripple, how are you gonna survive without me?”
I was stunned, listening to his harsh words.
Did Mark really think I was just some leech,
sucking him dry?
I hung up, closing my eyes, trying to keep it
together.
Third anniversary, and my husband was still
running to another woman.
It hit me hard Mark didn’t love me.
He was still hung up on Jessica, that much
was clear.
L
My phone buzzed, a text from Mark.
“Ashley, I’ve spoiled you rotten. Now you hang
up on me when you don’t get your way?”
“Jessica’s just trying to be nice. She didn’t
know about your leg, and she picked out a
gift for you with good intentions. And you just
throw it back in her face?!”
His tone was accusatory, like I was the only
one doing anything wrong.
My throat tightened.
“But you didn’t tell me you had someone else
pick out our anniversary gift…”
Before I could finish, he cut me off: “What are
you whining about? I pay for everything! You
L
can’t even get a job! Jessica’s a lifesaver, she
used her own savings to help me when my
company was in the red, that’s why we’re still
standing! And you gotta nitpick the gift she
got you? Get over yourself!”
And with that, he hung up.
I just sat there, numb, realizing that Mark
treated Jessica so well, even let her insult me
with those sneakers, just because she’d once
helped his company.
He had no idea I’d anonymously donated my
life savings to his company, or that I’d had my
legs broken to protect him from his rivals.
They’d kidnapped me, threatening to let me
go if Mark would just give up on his dreams.
<
But how could I let someone crush the
dreams of the man I loved?
I endured their torture, watching my legs
drown in my own blood.
I lied to him, said I’d been in a car accident,
to spare him the worry.
But Mark, stressed out about the company,
just gave me a cold reply.
“Of all times for you to get in an accident! I
don’t have time to take care of you.”
It was like a bucket of ice water, drenching
me from head to toe.
Back in reality, the sneakers were right there,
not even my size.
<
Whose were they? Obvious.
I texted Mark: “I want a divorce.”
His reply came quickly: “Ashley, how will you survive without me? You depend on me for everything. A cripple who can’t even find a job doesn’t get to demand a divorce from me.”
It was like a knife to the heart.
I realized that any explanation would be
pointless.
I packed up the sneakers, sent them to
another address.
Looking around the empty house, I thought,
“Mark, I don’t owe you anything anymore.”
The next morning, I was jolted awake by my
phone ringing.
It was Mark, screaming.
“Ashley, what the hell are you doing? It’s the annual company summit! You forgot you’re supposed to be there with me? With all the media here? Are you doing this on purpose?!”
So, he was blowing up my phone just because I was making him look bad?
My heart sank.
“I thought I made it clear yesterday that I
wanted a divorce.”
“Do you think this is funny?” Mark snapped.
L
“Jessica already apologized! What more do
you want? Don’t be difficult.”
“You’re a cripple, don’t start making
demands. Get your ass down to the press conference now. Say you’re running late
because of your leg, explain it to the
reporters. Otherwise, don’t ever show your
face again.”
The same old bossy, demanding tone.
Like I’d become some dog, ready to come
running whenever he called.
I remembered the boy who’d pulled me out of
the darkness, holding my hand in the sunlight,
chasing away the bullies, a bloody lip and all.
“Ashley, you’ve got me. I’ll always love you,
take care of you.”
That boy was gone.
Now, I had a resentful, critical CEO of the
Landis Group.
For my last shred of dignity, I decided to say
goodbye.
I struggled into the car, and as soon as I got to the office, the security guard stopped me.
“Ms. Jones said we’re not supposed to let
cripples in here.”
The guard’s eyes were full of disdain.
Everyone in the company knew I was.
disabled.
Г
Mark had to know this was happening.
I forced a smile, seeing him and Jessica
surrounded by reporters and cameras, radiant
in the spotlight.
And then there was me, a dirty mess.
People were whispering, “Where’s Mrs.
Landis? Isn’t she Mark’s wife?”
“She’s a cripple, holding onto what isn’t hers.
Does she really think Mark cares about her?
Look at Jessica, she’s beautiful and kind, a
perfect match for Mark.”
“She’s old and broke, who knows how she got
Mark back then? No wonder he treats her like
dirt…”
<
My eyes stung, but I didn’t know if it was
sweat or tears.
“Sorry to bother you,” I said.
I pushed my wheelchair, trying to leave.
But then the crowd got stirred up.
“Isn’t that the cripple? What’s she doing here?
I thought Mark was too embarrassed to let
her come.”
The words stabbed me.
