Stay Away Ethan, Not Yours Anymore

They called me a wife. But treated me like a ghost.

I cooked. I cleaned. I stayed silent.

For years, I folded myself small just to fit into their perfect little world.

Until one dinner shattered it all.

A child’s innocent wish. A cruel accusation.

And a betrayal so deep, it cracked something in me that would never heal.

When the man who vowed to protect me raised his hand instead…

I knew—I had to go.

So I took the card he tossed at me like a bone thrown to a dog…

And I vanished.

Now his calls won’t stop.

But I know why.

It’s not love he misses.

It’s his maid. His cleaner. His obedient, broken doll.

Too late, Ethan.

I’m not yours anymore.

I've been married to Ethan for seven years. Seven years of waking early to pack his lunches, ironing his shirts, making sure dinner was always hot when he came home. I forgot who I was before I became his wife. His mother's maid and his daughter's ghost.

Today I made a mistake.

I thought to myself, it was finally time to feel alive and feel truly married. So I turned to Ethan and asked him about our anniversary.

I asked him if we could celebrate our anniversary with a small dinner. Just us.

“Dinner?” He didn’t look up from his laptop. “What for?”

I paused, uncertain. “It’s been seven years. I just thought—maybe somewhere quiet. I already checked the menu at—”

He waved a hand. “Enough. You think we have money for that kind of nonsense? You want me to waste cash so you can pretend you're someone else for one night?”

I opened my mouth, but the words sat like stones on my tongue.

“You don’t even contribute,” he said, shaking his head. “You sit in this house all day. The least you could do is not spend what little I bring in.”

"I didn’t mean—"

He slammed the laptop shut. "You never do. But here we are."

My hands trembled, but I forced myself to smile. “I can cook. Maybe just something special tonight?” The tears formed in my eyes as I spoke, wishing he could at least give my idea a chance, but his next words broke my heart further.

He scoffed. “Special? Since when do you make anything special? Every day it’s the same bland food. I only eat it because I’m too tired to complain.”

The door creaked open behind us.

“I heard shouting,” his mother’s voice sliced through the hallway. “What has she done this time?”

“She wants a fancy dinner for our anniversary,” Ethan said dryly. “Like we’re in some fairytale.”

His mother clicked her tongue as she stepped into the room. “Are you serious, Avery? Have you looked in the mirror lately? You want a dinner? How about you lose some weight first?”

I shrank back, but she wasn’t finished.

“My son would have married that girl from his college. The one with the business degree. Remember her, Ethan? Anna. Pretty. Sharp. Her parents owned a chain of clinics. You chose... this.”

Ethan chuckled.

“I was young,” he said. “Didn’t think straight.”

I stood up, feeling the sting creep behind my eyes. “I was just trying to do something nice. For us.” I whimpered, wishing I never said anything in the first place.

His mother scoffed. “Nice? Then clean this place properly. There’s dust on the hallway shelf. That’s what you’re good for.”

I clenched my fists. “I clean every day.”

“Clearly not well enough,” she snapped. “And look at your clothes. Who wears that kind of thing at home? You should be embarrassed.”

I backed away, heart pounding.

What else did I have to wear? If not for this same rag she was talking about. Her son made sure I lived like a maid in my own matrimonial home and now I'm being blamed, when I was not being taken care of. I knocked over the vase near the table. It shattered on the floor, pieces skittering across the tiles.

Ethan swore under his breath. “Are you serious, Avery?”

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course you didn’t. You never mean to. But you still ruin everything.”

I dropped to my knees, hands fumbling to pick up the shards. One piece cut into my finger, drawing blood. I didn’t stop. I kept collecting.

Neither of them moved.

“Maybe if Anna had been your wife,” his mother said coldly, “she wouldn’t be crawling on the floor like a dog right now.”

I bit my lip so hard I tasted iron. My vision blurred, but I blinked fast. I wouldn’t give them tears.

Later, I made dinner in silence. His favorite—stir-fried prawns with garlic rice. I served it quietly, setting the plate before him like always. Waiting patiently for his reaction. I stood like a murderer about to be hanged to death, I stood like I was just a mere servant standing before the king.

He took one bite and pushed it away.

“Tastes like cardboard.”