Chapter 1: Regret in the Spotlight

Two years after marrying the campus queen, regret was the only thing left in our bed.

Back when we started, everyone said Natalie was way out of my league—she turned heads everywhere with her model looks, endless legs, and dancer’s grace. She had that effortless confidence, the kind you only see in perfume commercials. But underneath all that shine was a drive that cut right through you. She wanted more, always—no matter who she had to bulldoze to get it.

After all the secrets and the lies, I stopped trusting her. I stopped feeling much of anything at all.

And it didn’t stop at home. At work, people snickered behind their screens, the nickname 'Big Chump' sticking to me like a stain. The jokes, the whispers—they were everywhere, a minefield of inside laughs and pitying glances. I tried to tough it out, but every day felt like a fresh punchline at my expense.

Eventually, I just stopped fighting.

After the divorce papers were signed, I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed a number I hadn’t used in years. The numbers felt heavy under my thumb, like I was calling back to a life I’d tried to leave behind. My hand trembled—nerves, adrenaline, or maybe just the weight of giving up.

Before I could say anything, a gruff voice came through: “Don’t even try. I’ve been told—no money for you. Not a dime.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Tell Dad I’m coming home. I can’t do this anymore.” The words tasted weird—like I was a kid again, begging for a ride home after striking out in Little League.

Not long after, a fleet of black Escalades rolled up, headlights cutting through the dusk. The engines rumbled low, the drivers all in sharp suits and Bluetooth earpieces—definitely not your average Uber. It was surreal, like stepping back into the world I’d thrown away for love.

……

Later, Natalie’s name lit up my phone, her voice thick with tears. “Babe, there’s some creep in my bed. I’m scared!” She sounded desperate, but all I heard was the echo of every promise she’d broken.

1

My wife was called into the general manager’s office for a private meeting, and he made a show of closing the blinds. The snap of those slats sent a ripple of whispers through the office—everyone knew something was up. The tension was thick, mixed with the stale smell of burnt popcorn and cheap coffee from the break room.

The company group chat was blowing up:

[Seriously, what kind of meeting needs just two people?]

[If you know, you know. With Natalie’s looks, any guy would be tempted.]

[Alright, enough.]

[What’s the harm? Big Chump isn’t even in this group.]

[He’s in the group.]

……

Coworkers kept sneaking glances at me—some looked sorry, most just smirked. I tried to focus on my screen, but I could feel their eyes, the judgment so thick I could taste it. Even old Mr. Wilson from accounting, who never got involved in office drama, gave me a look as I walked by.

I felt like the last kid picked for dodgeball, except the whole gym was watching and no one wanted me on their team.

Natalie had tried to explain before, telling me not to worry, to ignore the rumors. But this time, I needed to see for myself. I was tired of being left in the dark, tired of her empty reassurances.

I marched toward the office, feeling every eye on me. My heart pounded, but I kept my head up. You could practically hear the gossip freeze as I passed the water cooler.

The executive assistant blocked the door, his cologne sharp and expensive, his tone colder: “Mr. Harris is busy with something important. No one’s allowed in.” He dragged out 'important,' making it sound like a joke.

I didn’t argue. I just pushed past him and stepped inside. Natalie was on the couch, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.

Natalie looked up, startled. “Caleb, what are you doing?” Her voice cracked, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—her old nervous tic from college.

The general manager turned away, stalking to his desk. He barked, “Don’t you know how to knock? With that attitude, you think you deserve a raise?” His voice tried for authority, but I heard the panic underneath.

My pulse hammered in my ears—part fear, part fury. Was this really my life now?

I let my fist unclench. “Yeah, your standards are so high, you call everyone ‘Daddy.’” I didn’t care who heard. Let them think what they wanted.

The general manager’s face went scarlet. He snatched up his coffee mug and hurled it at me. The mug smashed against the door, splattering lukewarm coffee everywhere.

I dodged, locking eyes with my wife. “Natalie, come out.” My voice was steady, but inside I was shaking. I could feel the whole office holding its breath, waiting for me to snap.

In the break room, Natalie wouldn’t meet my gaze. The vending machine hummed, the harsh lights making her look even paler.

“Babe, I’m about to get promoted. Please don’t make a scene,” she whispered, reaching for my hand. Her fingers were ice cold, her eyes darting away.

I shook her off. “Why did you lie to me?” The words hung between us, heavy as stone.

She trembled, looking down. “I didn’t lie to you,” she whispered, like she was trying to convince herself.

I lifted her chin, forcing her to look at me. “You keep saying he’s not into you. So why was he pitching a tent in his pants just now?”