The Wife Who Never Loved

For two years, my husband Hunter flaunted his affair, using his mistress's fake pregnancy to torture me. I endured it all for our daughter, trapped in a gilded cage where he expected me to mistake his strangling for passion.

Then his mistress whispered cruel lies to my six-year-old, telling her that her daddy would abandon her for the new baby. My daughter vanished.

While I searched frantically, Hunter was unreachable, still with her. When he finally appeared, he shielded his mistress from my desperate rage, his wedding ring glinting as he pushed me away.

With our daughter still missing, he pleaded with me.

"Krystal, she's pregnant, don't hurt her!"

The years of suppressed anger finally exploded. After our daughter was found safe, I looked him dead in the eye and told him the truth he'd been desperate to avoid.

"I want a divorce, Hunter. I never loved you. I hate you."

Chapter 1

I knew my life was a gilded cage, but when Hunter Walls flaunted his affair and then faked a pregnancy to provoke me, I realized he was slowly strangling me, expecting me to mistake the struggle for passion.

A sleek black car purred to a stop outside the mansion. My eyes, weary from a night filled with restless thoughts, barely registered its arrival.

Aubrie Pickett emerged, her silk dress rippling around her. She looked too young, too vibrant for this place.

Hunter Walls leaned against the open door of the car, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His gaze, even through the haze of smoke, found mine. It was cold, unsettling, a silent warning.

My eyes dropped. I felt Aubrie' s hand slip into mine, a gesture she probably thought was solidarity. I pulled away gently.

"He' s waiting for you," I said, my voice flat, almost devoid of emotion.

She wouldn' t find the reaction she craved on my face. No jealousy, no anger. Just a profound emptiness.

Aubrie' s lips thinned, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features. She bit her lip, then turned and walked towards Hunter.

The car door clicked shut. The engine roared, and they drove away.

I stood there for a long time, frozen, the chill from the night seeping into my bones. The silence of the empty driveway amplified the ache in my chest.

"Mommy?" a small, innocent voice chirped from behind me.

I spun around. Kaylee, my six-year-old daughter, stood at the open door, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Why did Daddy leave with that lady?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

My heart twisted. I picked her up, forcing a smile onto my face. It felt brittle, ready to crack.

"He just gave her a ride home, sweetie. You know, like a good friend would."

Kaylee nodded, her small arms wrapping tightly around my neck. I carried her back inside, the lie a bitter taste in my mouth.

Later that night, long after Kaylee had drifted into a peaceful sleep, Hunter still hadn' t returned. I wasn' t surprised. I knew he wouldn' t be home.

Then, a notification pinged on my phone.

It was Aubrie. A new post, a picture of her hand intertwined with Hunter' s. A lavish dinner spread in the background. Her caption boasted about their perfect evening, her "baby daddy" showering her with love.

The image hit me like a physical blow. It was a silent declaration of a happiness I could never have.

I remembered the night Hunter and Aubrie first got together. Aubrie, a budding social media influencer, had been so excited. She had accidentally posted a story about her "first time" with Hunter, thinking it was a private message.

That night, the carefully constructed facade of my calm life had fractured. It wasn' t a clean break. It was a jagged tear, bleeding slowly, but strangely, a sliver of light pierced through it.

The endless nights always brought back the deepest pains. I had borne Hunter a child, tying me to him forever. I had resigned myself to a lifetime entangled with him.

But now... Aubrie was pregnant. And Hunter was serious about her.

A desperate question sparked in my mind: Could I finally be free?

In the days that followed, I continued to play the part of the perfect wife and mother. I cooked, I cleaned, I smiled. But Hunter' s gaze grew colder with each passing day. It was unnerving, like he was calculating something.

One evening, after putting Kaylee to bed, he called me into his study. The room was dim, the air heavy with the scent of cigars and old books. He stood by the window, several cigarette butts already piled in the ashtray beside him. He looked out at the city lights, his back to me.

When he turned, his expression was unexpectedly soft, almost gentle.

"Krystal," he said, his voice low. "I think it' s time I gave you your freedom."

My breath hitched. My hands, resting on the back of a leather armchair, trembled involuntarily. Did I hear him right?

He smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips. He walked towards me, his movements unhurried, and gently brushed a strand of hair from my face.

"Aubrie is pregnant," he confirmed, his touch strangely tender. "And the child is mine."

My heart was a raging storm, but I kept my head down, my gaze fixed on the polished floorboards. I couldn' t show him the surge of unexpected hope that threatened to overwhelm me. I couldn' t let a single flicker of joy betray me.

I remembered the early days of our marriage, my futile attempts to escape. I had run away countless times, only to be dragged back by him. Each time, his eyes were bloodshot, terrifying.

"Still planning on running, Krystal?" he would purr, his voice laced with a chilling amusement.

His hand would always find its way to my neck, resting there lightly, a silent threat. "Stay by my side, and maybe, just maybe, I' ll let you go one day."

Those memories flashed through my mind, a dark reel of fear and submission. I couldn' t trust his words. Not completely.

But the thought of leaving him, the sheer possibility of it, was like a fragile sprout pushing through barren earth. It was a tiny, tentative hope.

"Can you... can you really let me go?" I dared to ask, my voice barely a whisper.

His smile remained, but the warmth drained from his eyes. They became cold, hard. I didn' t know what I had said to anger him.

He slammed his hand down on the desk, the sound echoing through the quiet room. My body flinched. He seized my arm, dragging me roughly towards the desk. His voice, a low growl, was a demonic whisper in my ear.

"I can' t let you go, Krystal. Not ever." His grip tightened, a physical manifestation of his suffocating hold on me.

He wouldn' t let me go. But he was building a new life, a new family, with another woman. My stomach churned with a sickening mix of anger and confusion. Aubrie was different. He actually cared for her. Hunter, who had always treated women as disposable, was attentive, even respectful, to Aubrie.

Their two-year affair had blossomed, seemingly, into something stable, something happy. He allowed her to parade herself in front of me and Kaylee, a constant, subtle provocation. Every night, he would come home smelling of her perfume, a scent that clung to him like a second skin.

I pretended not to notice, not to smell it. I just endured, waiting, wishing for the day he would grow tired of me. I longed for him to be the one to ask for a divorce.

Why, now that Aubrie was carrying his child, was he still clinging to me?

I remembered the first time I met him. He had said he loved me. He had pursued me with a ruthless determination, systematically destroying my family' s finances and Alan' s career, forcing me into this marriage.

The day Alan broke up with me, he cried. He told me Hunter had threatened his family. Hunter had stood there, a victorious smirk on his face, pulling me into his arms.

"You' re mine, Krystal," he' d whispered, his eyes blazing with a possessive fire. "Anyone who tries to take you away will pay the price."

I saw the love in his eyes then, and the madness. If this was how he loved, I thought, then I would accept my fate.

But Aubrie was the exception. Hunter showered her with affection, respect, and freedom, everything he denied me. He had only ever caged me.

He stopped loving me a long time ago. I was sure of it.