Thirty Years Married, Thirty Years Cheated

On the day of my husband, Ruben Castille's funeral, a grief-stricken woman shows up at the venue.

After putting down the white lilies, she doesn't walk away. Instead, she chooses to approach me.

"Honestly speaking, I've been envious of you for 30 years."

I frown at her in confusion. Her lips just quirk into a small smile as her gaze falls onto Ruben's portrait. Soon, her eyes redden out of emotion.

"Over the past 30 years, he's given me everything, be it love, time, and money. On top of that, he's very generous, too."

The woman pauses for a moment. She then tilts her head to look at me, her voice now tinged with resentment.

"But his only condition is that I'm not allowed to cause any trouble in front of you."

My heart skips a beat. "What do you mean by that?"

The woman laughs in return. "You two were married for 30 years. Similarly, Ruben and I were together for 30 years. Ashlee Drayton, he had already betrayed you a long time ago."

After that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving me rooted to the spot while feeling my limbs going cold.

My eyes go wide, and I begin breathing heavily. The betrayal and lies that have lasted for 30 years trigger me instantly, causing me to collapse at the venue.

When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Ruben plans on proposing to me.

"Ashlee, will you marry me?"

I fall silent for a moment. Then, I accept the ring, only to throw it into a nearby drain without hesitation.

###CONTENT

####CHAPTER-NAME:

Ashlee's POV

The proposal venue, blanketed in blossoms, instantly fell deadly silent. Friends and family who had been ready to applaud all froze, their hands suspended in midair.

Ruben Castille looked up at me, his face filled with utter bewilderment.

"Ashlee?"

He didn't yell at me. Instead, he shot to his feet and grabbed my hand, worry written all over his face.

"What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"

I looked at him quietly. He looked exactly the same as he did in my memories. This was exactly how he'd treated me for 30 years.

No one around us would ever say that Ruben didn't love me. In fact, they'd say that he loved me more than he loved himself.

On rainy days, he'd carry me on his back so my shoes and socks wouldn't get wet. When I had bad menstrual cramps, he'd stay up all night replacing my hot water bottle and gently massaging my stomach.

When we got into a car accident, his first instinct was to shield me. He didn't even care that he broke three ribs himself.

And yet, this very man who seemed to love me more than life itself had lied to me for 30 years.

I closed my eyes and forced down the suffocating wave of emotions surging inside me. Then, under his worried gaze, I pulled my hand back and