Page 35 of The Humiliated Wife

At the front door, Fiona stopped. She looked down at her left hand for a long moment, then slowly worked her wedding ring off her finger. The simple band Dean had chosen because it reminded him of her—classic, beautiful, real.

She held it out to him.

"Fiona, don't do this."

"You made me feel safe. I believed that. I believed you." Her voice was soft, final.

Dean stared at the ring in her palm like it might bite him. Taking it would make this real. Make this permanent.

"You can't—we haven't even tried to fix this. You can't just?—"

She reached for his hand and pressed the ring into his palm, her fingers cool against his skin for just a moment. The gold was still warm from her body.

"You turned me into a joke, Dean. Foryears. You made me into a joke for strangers to laugh at." Her voice was steady, matter-of-fact. "I can't forgive that. I won't."

"But I love you," he said, the words coming out broken and desperate.

Fiona studied his face for a long moment. Then, quietly: "But did you ever like me?"

The door closed behind her with a soft click.

Dean already regretted showing up.It was supposed to be a distraction. But all he could think about was Fiona. His marriage. His fuck up.

The rooftop bar was too loud. Music pulsed under the chatter, ice clinked in glasses, and laughter came in waves—always a touch too sharp. Dean sipped his drink and let the conversation swirl around him.

Cam was already half-drunk, retelling some story about a pitch gone sideways.

Dean nodded along. Smiled when expected.

Then Roxanne said, “So. Where’s the ball and chain tonight?” She smirked like she meant it in an ironic way. Plausible deniability.

He thought about deflecting, but he didn’t have the energy.

“Gone,” he said shortly.

Cam raised an eyebrow. “Like…gonegone?”

“She left me,” Dean muttered, then tried to laugh like it was a punchline. “Packed a bag and left me.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Jared let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“Yikes,” Roxanne added, not sounding remotely sorry.

“I mean,” Cam shrugged, “it was probably coming, right?”

Dean turned to him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Cam held up his hands. “Just saying. It was cute at first, the whole quirky-teacher-Disney-princess thing. But long term?” He chuckled. “You should be with someone a bit more sophisticated.”

Dean’s hand stiffened around his glass.

Roxanne leaned in. “I always wondered how you did it, honestly. Like—no offense—she’s sweet and everything, but doesn’t it get… tiring? The crying? The little notes?”

Laughter around the table.

Then Jared said “I’ve got a friend you’d like. PR director. Sharp as hell. More of your intellectual equal, you know?”

Dean stood up.