Fake divorce certificate

I’d been married to Peter for three years when I found out I was pregnant.

I was about to tell him the good news when he brought his childhood sweetheart home and asked me for a divorce.

“Her boyfriend is crazy, super possessive, almost killed her a couple of times,” he explained.

“I’m going to marry Mona, just a formality, to get that guy off her back.”

So, I was the one who had to be inconvenienced.

He handed me the divorce papers and asked me to sign.

Just as I was about to board my flight, he stopped me. “When the time is right, I’ll come back for you,” he promised.

“We’ll have a real wedding then.”

I smiled, waved goodbye, and tossed my wedding ring, once a symbol of love, into the nearest trash can.

He didn’t know.

This time, I wasn’t coming back.

I hadn’t even gotten my boarding pass when someone stopped me.

“Sarah, it’s time to come home.”

It was Alan, my supposed uncle.

Years ago, after I ran away from the orphanage, I saved his life.

Pulled him from a burning car, carried him ten miles to the hospital.

He survived, but his legs were permanently damaged.

His family, grateful, wanted to adopt me.

But Alan intervened.

He looked at me seriously. “I don’t want a sister. I have a friend, he and his wife would love a daughter. You can stay with them, legally.”

“You can call me Uncle.”

I thought it was weird and tried to refuse. “You don’t have to do that. I can take care of myself. If you’re worried I’ll try to extort you for saving you, just give me some money, enough to get by.”

My words were immediately dismissed.

“The Riley family isn’t afraid of a little girl.”

I was taken to their home, given their name, but even though I had adoptive parents, I lived with the Rileys.

Alan was incredibly good to me. He paid for my education, taught me manners, encouraged me to find my own path.

But his kindness gradually took on a different tone.

Then Peter came along.

When Alan found out I was dating, he locked me in the house.

“Sarah, why won’t you ever listen? Men are no good, especially the ones out there. I’m only trying to protect you.”

He pressured me to break up with Peter.

I fought back, refusing to eat, threatening to hurt myself.

“Alan, if you really care about me, let me make my own choices.”

Finally, he relented.

He took the knife from my hand, bandaged the cuts on my wrist.

“Then prove it to me,” he said.

“Prove that he can love you forever, be true to you. If you lose, you stay with me, forever.”

“Okay.”

I took the gamble.

And lost spectacularly.

Alan stroked my hair. “Come home,” he said softly.

“Don’t even think about leaving again.”

I nodded. “I won’t.”

My hand was taken, firmly, without a chance to refuse, and I was led away.

Peter had a childhood sweetheart, Mona.

Their families were close; Mona’s father had died saving Peter’s.

Peter had been raised to protect Mona.

“I understand,” I told him.

“But, Peter, I made a bet with my uncle. If you ever stop loving me, or if you ever do anything to hurt me…”

“My uncle will take me away, and that will be the end of us.”

He nodded frantically, swearing his devotion.

“Don’t worry, Sarah, Mona has a boyfriend,” he reassured me.

“They’re solid, it’s not like that could ever…”

But it was funny how things turned out.

One day their relationship was rock-solid, the next he was telling me about her crazy, possessive boyfriend.

I hadn’t even had a chance to show him the pregnancy test in my purse when Peter got a call.

“Sarah, something happened to Mona, I have to go. We’ll talk about your good news later.”

What I got instead was Peter carrying Mona into the house, and divorce papers.

Peter looked uncomfortable but resolute. “Her boyfriend is crazy, super possessive, almost killed her a couple of times,” he repeated.

“I’m marrying Mona, just a formality, to get that guy off her back.”

“So…”

I finished the sentence for him.

So, we had to get divorced.

I stared at the signed divorce papers, stunned, then looked into his eyes and saw him flinch.

Mona rushed over, crying, her perfectly manicured nails digging into my arm. “Sarah, please help me,” she begged.

“I can’t deal with that psycho anymore. You’re so nice, just lend me Peter for a while, just a little while.”

I yanked my arm away, almost sending Mona tumbling to the floor.

Peter reached out to steady her, knocking me aside in the process.

My hand landed on a fruit knife on the table, slicing it open.

Blood welled up, but they both seemed oblivious.

When I didn’t respond, Mona became agitated. “Sarah, stop trying to scare us with this ‘my uncle will come and get me’ stuff,” she snapped.

“We’ve never even seen your uncle.”

I had only ever told Peter about Alan.

I never imagined he would tell anyone else.

I looked silently at the man I’d shared my bed with for three years, a chill creeping through me.

Peter looked guilty, but still tried to justify himself. “I just… I slipped up, told Mona when we were talking.”

“Sarah, Mona’s family has done a lot for us. Don’t be selfish.”

“Mona’s not like you, an orphan with no one. She has a mother to take care of, she can’t afford to get hurt.”

Every word was a reminder of how insignificant I was.

I picked up the divorce papers and signed my name.

Peter took them eagerly, still promising, “Don’t worry, when this is all over, I’ll come get you.”

“I still owe you a wedding, right? We’ll do it properly then.”

I smiled faintly. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Because I wasn’t coming back.

Meeting Peter had been a fluke.

Somehow, some guys found out about my connection to the Rileys and tried to kidnap me for ransom.

I was cornered, terrified, and Peter had called security and the police.

That’s how we met, how we became close.

He was the opposite of Alan.

Peter was a sunny, sensitive college student, while Alan was a powerful, calculating businessman.

Peter was easier to connect with, Alan always kept me at arm’s length.

I started seeing Peter.

Everything seemed destined. He confessed his feelings, asked me to be his girlfriend.

But Alan found out.

I had a rebellious streak; the more Alan tried to keep me away from something, the more I wanted it.

That led to our bet.

After I left the Rileys, I moved in with Peter.

I never used another penny of their money.

Two recent college grads, we worked odd jobs, started a business, supported each other.

He’d see my hands red and raw from the winter cold and scrimp and save to buy me gloves.

I’d see him exhausted from work and wake up early to make him hot porridge.

When his business took off, we got married.

He said, “You’re the most important thing in the world to me. And if we ever have a baby, you and the baby will be the two most important things.”

Now, looking back, a man’s promises are only true in the moment they’re spoken.

“It’s an emergency, your uncle will never know,” he’d said, buying me a plane ticket, urging me to go away for a while.

“Once you’re gone, your uncle can’t find you. I’ll sort this out, then I’ll come for you.”

I didn’t argue, just went upstairs and packed a bag.

Just a few changes of clothes.

I left behind all the jewelry Peter had bought me.

Mona, worried I might change my mind, insisted Peter take me to the airport.

At the curb, she clung to his arm, waving goodbye, triumph in her eyes. “Bye, Sarah!” she chirped.

“Have a… nice trip.”

My hand clenched and unclenched, the scab on my palm splitting open, bleeding again.

Peter watched me walk away, a strange unease settling over him.

That’s why he called out to me, making his promise. “When the time is right, I’ll come back for you. We’ll have a real wedding then.”

I didn’t turn around.

Just before I entered security, I pulled off my wedding ring and dropped it in the trash.

I’d barely reached the second floor when I was stopped.

Alan was in his wheelchair, arms outstretched.

“Welcome home.”

I bent down, letting him embrace me.

Tears streamed down my face. “Uncle Alan.”

“It’s good to have you back.”

Back at the Riley house, Alan carefully cleaned and bandaged my hand, telling me to keep it dry.

He also took my phone, giving me a new one with a new number.

“Since you’re home,” he said, “let’s break from the past.”

Before I could respond, he showed me a wedding invitation.

The names on it were Mona and Peter.

The date was last month.

“They’re getting married tomorrow.”

Alan didn’t waste time.

I didn’t want to go to their wedding, but he insisted.

Mona, wearing the dress I had dreamed of, walked down the aisle with Peter.

They accepted congratulations from family and friends.

Peter’s parents beamed, a stark contrast to how they’d treated me.

Alan held my hand, his voice gentle, his words brutal. “See? He never intended to give you a real place in his life.”

“Did any of his family, his friends, ever truly accept you?”

Because I was an orphan, Peter’s parents thought I wouldn’t be able to help him advance. In three years of marriage, they never once visited our home.

Every holiday, they’d take the gifts I brought and shove them in a corner, barely concealing their disdain.

Afterwards, Peter would always comfort me, sweet and apologetic.

Now, I saw that he had never truly stood up for me, never spoken on my behalf.

But for Mona?

He’d told me how his mother had complained about Mona always eating at their house, coming empty-handed, like she was freeloading.

Peter had exploded.

“If you don’t like Mona eating here, then I won’t eat here either. Give me the money, and Mona and I will eat out.”

His mother never said a word against Mona again.