Brandon and I met in college.

I majored in computer science while he studied finance.


Everyone saw us as the perfect couple.

He never flaunted his family wealth, happily taking me for street food and long walks.

Yet he'd think nothing of chartering a luxury yacht for a day at sea.


The prairie sunsets and ocean mists bore witness:

I had long ago decided he would be my only partner in life.


After earning my prestigious "Elite Hacker" certification, I turned down opportunities to study abroad.

I married him despite everyone's warnings.

Everyone knew an ordinary girl marrying into wealth faced nothing but hardship.

I knew it too.

But I didn't care.

I trusted his character and believed our love could overcome anything.

But the day I dreaded finally came.

He brought a pregnant woman to our home.

"Anna, I won't lie to you. She's carrying my child."

"I don't trust anyone else to look after her, so I'm having her stay at the villa for a while."

In that moment, I felt like I'd plunged into an icy abyss.

I should have screamed and raged like any betrayed wife.

Or I could have simply not cared—taken the money and played my part as Mrs. Shaw.

But I couldn't do either.

My love made it impossible to ignore, while my pride refused to let me shed a single tear in his presence.

So I signed the divorce papers.

With just one suitcase, I walked away from our home.

This day was inevitable.

I'd always known it.

My reckless dive into this marriage was just paying tribute to my youthful passion.

I have no regrets.

Now that I've awakened from the dream, it's time to forge my own path.