Rebirth After Marriage Ruin

I smoothed my hands over the burgundy tablecloth, adjusting the centerpiece of autumn leaves and candles one last time. The Johnston family Thanksgiving dinner was always a formal affair, and as Clyde's wife, perfection was expected of me. The dining room looked immaculate—crystal glasses catching the light, fine china precisely placed, name cards in elegant calligraphy. Everything was ready except for one thing: my husband was nowhere to be found.

"Has anyone seen Clyde?" I asked, forcing a smile as I addressed his parents seated in the living room. "We're almost ready to serve."

"I believe he went to his study to take a call," Richard Johnston replied without looking up from his newspaper, his voice carrying that perpetual tone of disinterest he reserved for me.

I nodded and slipped away from the gathering. The hallway to Clyde's study felt unusually long today, my heels clicking against the hardwood like a countdown. I placed my hand on the ornate doorknob, hesitating only briefly before turning it.

The door opened silently, revealing a scene that instantly shattered my world.

Clyde had Elsie—my sister-in-law—pressed against his desk, his hands gripping her waist as they kissed passionately. They were so engrossed in each other they didn't notice me standing there, frozen in the doorway.

My stomach lurched. The room seemed to tilt sideways as I gripped the doorframe for support. A small gasp escaped my lips before I could stop it.

They broke apart instantly, Elsie's lipstick smeared across my husband's mouth. Her eyes met mine, not with shame or guilt, but with something that looked disturbingly like triumph.

"Leia," Clyde said, straightening his tie as if I'd merely caught him in some minor social faux pas. "You should knock before entering."

The audacity of his words hit me like a physical blow. I stood there, unable to form words as my marriage crumbled before my eyes.

"Dinner's ready," I finally managed, my voice sounding distant and hollow to my own ears. Then I turned and walked away, my body moving on autopilot.

Somehow, I made it through serving dinner. My hands didn't shake as I passed dishes around. My smile remained fixed in place. Inside, I was screaming, but outside, I was the perfect Johnston wife—composed, elegant, accommodating.

Until Clyde stood up to make an announcement.

"I have wonderful news to share with the family," he said, raising his glass. His eyes deliberately avoided mine as he placed his hand on Elsie's shoulder. "Elsie has agreed to bear my heir."

The room fell silent. I felt every eye turn to me, watching for my reaction. The turkey on my plate suddenly looked revolting.

"Leia," Clyde continued, his voice carrying that familiar authoritative tone he used when making pronouncements he expected no one to question, "as my wife, I expect you to teach Elsie how to prepare for pregnancy. Share your knowledge about prenatal care and nutrition."

I stared at him, disbelieving. The room seemed to recede, voices becoming muffled as if I