The Matcha Scent of His Betrayal

My ten-year marriage was a transactional lie, built on an astrologer's prophecy that my chart would ensure my husband's success. But on my birthday, he abandoned me to take his young intern, Anais, to the sci-fi festival I' d dreamed of for years.

He came home smelling of her sweet matcha perfume, a green hair tie and a festival souvenir tucked in his pocket. He called me dramatic, said she was "fragile" and needed him.

At our anniversary gala, meant to be his grand apology, I watched him kiss her passionately on the terrace during the fireworks display. He was still whispering promises in my ear, completely oblivious.

That night, I left him the divorce papers and my wedding ring.

But he tracked me down on my solo trip to Utah, finding me with my new guide, Casey. He punched Casey, then accused me of cheating. "You belong to me!" he roared.

Just then, his phone rang. It was a video call from a hysterical Anais.

"Howard, I'm pregnant! My parents are furious! They're demanding we get married immediately!"

Chapter 1

Kacey Stanley POV:

The day I finally understood my ten-year marriage was a transactional lie didn't begin with a scream. It started with a scent. The lingering sweet matcha of another woman on my husband' s expensive suit.

Howard Leach, the ambitious tech CEO, my husband, was late. Again. It was my birthday. Not that it mattered anymore. He' d promised for weeks we' d finally go to the niche sci-fi film festival I' d talked about since college. A promise as empty as our bed most nights. But this year, it was worse.

He walked in, his tie loosened, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Rough day at the office, babe," he mumbled, tossing his jacket onto a chair. Anais Nichols, his new intern, had been crying again. He'd rushed out, leaving me alone with our untouched dinner. He said she was "fragile." I wondered what fragile meant in his dictionary.

I picked up his jacket. The matcha scent hit me first, sickly sweet and cloying. Then, tucked into the breast pocket, a small, vibrant green hair tie. It wasn' t mine. My hair was dark, my ties black. Anais, I knew, loved matcha lattes and wore bright green accessories. A wave of nausea rolled over me.

"Howard," I said, my voice flat, "did you take Anais to the film festival?"

He paused, mid-button, his eyes flicking to the jacket. "Oh, that? She was really upset, Kacey. Overwhelmed with work, you know. I thought a distraction might help. And she mentioned she likes sci-fi." He shrugged, as if explaining why he bought the wrong brand of coffee. "It was just a few hours. Nothing."

My stomach churned. Nothing. That was his word for everything that mattered to me. My passions, my time, my heart.

"You left me on my birthday," I stated, not asking.

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "Kacey, don't be