Five Years a Fake Wife My Marriage Was a Lie

Five years into a marriage that had always had three people in it.

He still gave me one day a year, and spent all the rest with someone else.

I stared at his back for a long moment before I finally spoke.

Can you break it off with her for a while, just look after our little family for once?

Every big thing and every small thing in this house, the old woman falling ill, the hospital stays, I handled all of it alone.

He never once asked whether I was doing all right.

He poured every bit of himself into Diana Winfield instead.

After a while he pinched the bridge of his nose, worn out, his voice thick with distaste.

"This house is nothing but the mortgage, the bills, this suffocating weight I can't breathe under. There's nothing left of how it used to be."

"But Diana's different. She's gentle, she's thoughtful, she understands how hard I work out there. Is it wrong to want someone who can give me a little happiness?"

I laughed at it inside, bitterly. Of course they fit so well. Their life had no rice, no oil, no bills to pay.

Fine, then. I'd let him have it.

I had my own road to walk. I wouldn't waste it waiting for a wind that was never coming.

...

He was still standing in the entryway, no sign at all of wanting to stay.

I pressed down the bitterness in my chest and set aside what little pride I had left. "Just do it for me. Come home and let's live like a real family, all right?"

If he'd only say yes, I was willing to wipe the whole slate clean.

But Jude Harding stood half-turned away, his face all irritation.

"Diana and I can't be cut off, it's too late for that. Forcing us apart doesn't do anyone any good."

He pulled the door open, then paused. "And don't paint yourself as the wronged one. You knew the day you married me that I'm not a man who hangs around the kitchen."

The door slammed shut with a dull thud.

I stood there and pulled my mouth into something like a self-mocking smile.

But he was the one who'd forced his way into my world first, who'd taken care of me down to the smallest thing, who'd shouldered everything for me.

So when did this house become the place he strained so hard to escape?

My thoughts broke off at the ping of my phone. A message from Diana Winfield.

In the photo, she sat in the passenger seat, her fingers laced through Jude's.

"Five years, and you still can't hold on to him for even one day."

"But thanks for being so useless. We're driving out to see the ocean."

I sank onto the couch, drained, and turned the phone face-down.

Looking at the date on the calendar, circled again and again, I suddenly laughed out loud.

And somewhere in the laughing, the tears came.

Today was our wedding anniversary. It was also the one day a year he came home.

I'd been up since four, working right through to now, cooking a whole table of the dishes he loved, changing into the dress he'd given me, my heart full of hope.

Hoping only that he might come around, that he might look after our family for once.

But he was gone, off to watch the ocean with Diana Winfield.

The phone rang again. This time it was a video call from my mother.

I sniffed and pressed answer.

Mom leaned close to the screen, scanning the empty rooms. "Jude didn't come home. Off chasing that little fox again?"

I didn't say anything, which was answer enough.

The line went quiet for a few seconds, then she sighed.

"Men are all the same. You've been married into that family for five years now, so don't make a scene. Keep the home steady, and give it enough time, he'll see how good you are eventually."

She paused. "The Lynn girl next door got divorced last year. People are still talking behind her back."

In the corner of the screen, Dad sat on a stool, saying nothing, drawing on his pipe one slow pull after another.

The words that had risen to my lips, that I couldn't keep going, I swallowed them back down.

I hung up, changed out of the dress, and dumped the whole table of food into the trash.

Five years of standing by, small and swallowed, five years of this three-person marriage grinding at me. This was where it ended.

I didn't want this so-called home anymore, either.

Not half a day later, Diana updated her feed with a nine-photo post.

The caption read: Thank you, Mr. Harding, for spoiling me into a carefree little princess.

That one short line landed like a slap across my face.

In the photos she wore a long red dress, her skin set off pale and glowing against it.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Only thirty, and already sallow-faced, worn down to nothing.

I gave a bitter little laugh.

For Jude Harding, I had actually let myself become this haggard wreck.

Before I could even close the app, Jude's message came through, an order more than a request.

"Mom's in the hospital. Go check on her."

I stared at the text, everything churning inside me.

I hated Jude's coldness, resented his betrayal.

But the old woman was innocent. She shouldn't have to pay for the tangle between him and me.

I pushed down the sourness rising in my chest, changed clothes, and rushed to the hospital.

It took an hour and a half of running around before I finally reached the ward door.

I'd just lifted my hand to push it open when the laughter and chatter inside stopped me cold.

"Diana, sweetheart, you two enjoy yourselves. Don't waste a thought on me."

"Delia's holding down the house, nothing's going to go wrong, and I've put her fully in charge of things here at the hospital too. The two of you relax, watch the ocean, unwind. Just hurry up and give me a grandchild."

Then Diana's voice, all soft and sweet: "Auntie, won't that be too much trouble for Delia? I really do feel bad about it."

Odette Harding laughed lightly at once, her tone thick with favoritism. "What trouble? She's the Harding daughter-in-law. Running the household and taking care of her elders is exactly what she's supposed to do."

I stood outside the door, cold all over.

So it turned out five years of my heart and soul, five years of waiting on the whole Harding family, was nothing more than my duty in their eyes.

Every one of them treated me like a free maid, watched me toil away without complaint like some fool.

I pushed the door open, and Odette's smile froze on her face as she hurried to end the video call.

"Delia, why are you only getting here now?"

She was used to my meekness, my swallowed grievances, and whatever guilt she'd felt a moment ago had already burned off.

"Since you're here, go settle the payment slip right away, then finish today's caregiver paperwork."

I raised my eyes and looked at her, quietly.

Ever since she'd fallen ill, all those midnight ER runs, all those hospital stays, from start to finish it had always been me keeping watch through the night, alone.

Even when I was burning up with fever, I never missed a single time.

Jude was always busy. Always with Diana.

And in the end, everyone decided this was simply what I was meant to do.

"Have your son do it."

Odette blinked, stunned, then said in disbelief, "What did you say? You're the Harding daughter-in-law. How dare you not do as you're told"

I didn't explain, didn't make a scene. I just ignored her shouting, turned, and walked out.

Outside the hospital, I dialed the number that had sat buried in my contacts for so long.

It picked up fast. "So you've finally decided to call me. What, come to your senses?"

I felt a little sheepish. "Yeah. Is there still a spot for me over there?"

Rosamond Swanson shrieked with laughter. "There you are, you little brat. About time you came to your senses. You're always welcome here."

Good. It wasn't too late for any of it.

The second I hung up, Jude's messages came firing in, one after another.

"Delia, Mom says you just walked out?"

"Such a tiny thing and you have to throw a fit? I'm out here working myself to the bone so you can sit back and enjoy life at home, and this is how you repay me?"

"Go back and stay with Mom right now. If anything happens to her, you can't afford the consequences."

I looked at the messages, let out a small scornful laugh, then blocked him and deleted the thread.

Today I was done covering for anyone.

After I got home, I started packing.

Jude was rarely here, but his things still sat in this apartmenteverything he liked.

The baseball bat, the snowboard, the fishing rod, all lined up neatly, not a speck of dust on them.

Yet I'd lived here alone for five years, and my own things couldn't even fill a single twenty-inch suitcase.

I remembered the first time he pulled me through the door of this newlywed home, and what he'd said:

"From now on, this is your home. I'll fill it with everything you love, so you'll always feel safe here."

But now he'd given all his tenderness, all his favor, to someone else, and all I had left was this cold room.

Once the last piece of clothing was folded, I sat down at the computer.

And I started going through every expense of these five years, one line at a time.

The mortgage at seventy-eight hundred a month, my mother-in-law's chronic illness, hospital bills, surgery fees, plus utilities and property management, household costsit came to well over a million.

Bill after bill, dense and unbroken, filled the whole screen.

But over all these years, the money Jude had sent home didn't add up to five hundred thousand.

When I went to him upset, asking for money, he set his face hard every time and said I suffocated him, then turned and buried himself in Diana's soft little world, leaving every mess for me.

Later, to ease the pressure, I took shifts at the convenience store at lunch and in the evenings whenever I had the time.

I burned through all my youth and all my savings, just to keep this household standing.

And while I was doing that, he booked out an entire hotel to celebrate Diana's birthday.

The thought of it sent a sharp stab through my chest.

I took a deep breath and screenshotted everythingthe bills, the payment records, the hospital-care proof.

Just as I finished, the door lock rattled.

It was Jude.

Thanks to my mother-in-law, I'd somehow seen him twice in a single year.

His gaze swept over the packed suitcase, and there wasn't a trace of panic in his eyes.

"Are you done throwing your fit?"

"Mom's lying in a hospital bed and you just walk outwas this all to force me back here to watch you run away from home?"

I looked at him, and suddenly I was so tired I didn't even have the strength to argue.

"Think whatever you want."

He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. "Come on. You're coming to the hospital with me to apologize to Mom."

He yanked me so hard I stumbled and nearly fell.

But it was as though he couldn't even see it.

I wrenched my hand free, and my wrist cracked against the corner of the desk, aching and numb.

"Why should I apologize?"

"You're so fond of Dianawhy don't you have her go look after your mother!"

I nearly screamed it, my voice shaking.

Jude froze at the shout. "You're the Harding daughter-in-law. You won't do it, so you'd shove it onto someone else?"

"If you had one ounce of sense and consideration, if you learned to be gentle like Diana, we wouldn't be down to seeing each other once a year!"

I turned and looked at him, calm.

"That won't be necessary. From now on, let's not even have that one time."

He pinched his brow, his face full of anger.

"What's that supposed to mean? I never divorced you. The place of Mrs. Harding has always been yours. What in the world are you still not satisfied with?"

I let out a cold laugh and looked at him.

"It doesn't mean anything. I just want it to end."

"Let's get divorced."

Something I couldn't read flickered through Jude's eyes.

He gave a soft laugh. "Divorce?"

"You've spent these five years at home full-timeno job, no income. From start to finish, I'm the one who supported you. Leave me, and you'll struggle just to get by. What exactly do you think you'd divorce me with? Don't humiliate yourself."

He knew exactly how meek I used to be, and he was certain I'd never leave him.

In his eyes, I had no leverage, no way out.

Jude gave my suitcase a vicious kick and looked down at me.

"This time, I'll let the tantrum slide."

"Put your things away. Tomorrow you go back to the hospital and take care of my mother like a good girl. Don't push your luck."

Then, without another glance, he slammed the door and was gone.

Watching his back disappear, I took out my phone and sent Rosamond my location and a message.

"Rosamond, I want a divorce. Help me draft the agreement."

For five years, she'd told me again and again to cut my losses, to walk away from the wrong man.

I was the one who wouldn't listen, the one who wasted five years.

Her reply came in an instant: On my way.

We met at the caf on the corner.

The moment she saw me, she rushed over and pulled me into a hug.

"I'll draw up the agreement and settle the finances. Everything Jude has shorted you these five years, down to the last cent, we're getting it all back."

She let go of me and opened a document with practiced ease.

"Every expense during the marriage, the mortgage you fronted, the old woman's medical bills, all of it can be traced and reclaimed."

"He cheated during the marriage and gave you the silent treatment for years. He's the one at fault. We are absolutely in the right!"

I sat beside her and forwarded all the bills and receipts I'd organized, one by one.

Rosamond had the agreement drafted fast and slid it over for me to check. "Take a look. If there's no problem, we print it, sign it, and file with the County Clerk's Office tomorrow to start the divorce."

But the second I entered the number and hit search,

a message box popped up on the screen.

No marriage registration found. Certificate number is fraudulent. Certificate invalid.

I thought I'd read it wrong. I typed it in again and again, refreshed again and again.

Every time, the same result.

Seeing me sit frozen, Rosamond leaned in. "What is it? Something wrong with the details?"

I stayed rooted where I was, my mind blank.

"Rosamond, my marriage certificate with Jude, I think it's fake..."

She snatched the certificate out of my hand. Years in legal work, and she spotted the flaw at a glance.

"That bastard. He actually lied to you for five years."

"Don't worry. This is marriage fraud. All the assets, damages for emotional distress, I'll get every bit of it back for you."

I don't know how I made it home. All I could think about was these five years.

So it turned out I'd been guarding a fake certificate, fooling myself into playing Mrs. Harding for five years.

Once my thoughts settled, I opened my phone and cancelled every auto-payment: the mortgage, the property fees, the electricity, and all of my mother-in-law's medical bills.

When it was done, I set the keys on the shoe cabinet and walked out of the cage that had held me for five years, without a shred of regret.