Ex Wife’s Rise, His Downfall

“Are you coming home soon?”

Nia DeLuca stared at the message on her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen as if willing it to change. The kitchen smelled of roasted chicken and herbs, warm and inviting, everything she hoped tonight would be.

Candles flickered softly on the dining table she had set for two, the white tablecloth carefully ironed, the plates aligned just right. This night mattered to her. More than Anthony would ever know.

Her phone vibrated.

‘Soon.’

Just that one word. No heart emoji. No anniversary wish. But Nia smiled anyway.

“Soon is good,” she whispered to herself.

It was their third wedding anniversary, and for the first time since she became Mrs. Anthony DeLuca, she felt something dangerously close to hope.

 She smoothed her palms over her fitted blue dress, the one she knew complimented her skin tone, the one she had bought weeks ago and hidden in the back of the closet. She had even curled her hair, letting it fall gently down her shoulders instead of tying it back the way she usually did.

Tonight was different. She could feel it in her chest.

Last night, while putting away Anthony’s freshly pressed suits, she had found it. A small velvet jewelry box tucked carefully inside his wardrobe. 

Her heart had nearly stopped when she opened it and saw the gold necklace resting inside, delicate and shining under the closet light. Anthony had never bought her a gift in three years of marriage, not on birthdays, not on anniversaries, not even on holidays. Finding that necklace felt like a miracle.

She had closed the box quickly, her hands shaking, afraid he would walk in and ruin the moment. All night she barely slept, imagining him clasping it around her neck, finally looking at her like a husband should.

And there was more. So much more.

Her hand drifted unconsciously to her stomach, flat now, but not empty. Earlier that week, she had stared at the pregnancy test in disbelief, tears streaming down her face as the result confirmed what she already felt deep inside. A life was growing within her. Anthony’s child. Their child.

She had kept the test hidden in her purse all day, taking it out occasionally just to make sure it was still real. Tonight, she would tell him. On their anniversary. Surely this would change everything.

Nia and Anthony had never married for love. At least, not on his side.

She had loved him since high school, back when life had still felt kind to her. Their grandmothers had been best friends, inseparable women who spent afternoons gossiping over tea.

 When Nia’s grandmother fell ill and later passed away, the world she knew collapsed. Her parents had been gone for years, and suddenly she had no one.

Anthony’s grandmother had taken her in without hesitation.

“You’re family,” the older woman had said, pulling Nia into a hug that smelled of lavender and warmth. “As long as I’m breathing, you’ll never be alone.”

And she had kept that promise.

Nia grew up under the same roof as Anthony, watching him from a distance, loving him quietly, painfully, knowing he barely noticed her. 

He was always polite, always distant. And when he fell in love with Rachel Stein in high school, Nia learned what heartbreak felt like long before marriage ever entered the picture.

Rachel had been everything Nia wasn’t. Confident, Beautiful and was very popular at high school.

Even after Rachel broke up with Anthony and left the country, he never stopped loving her. Her name lingered between them like a ghost that refused to leave.

Anthony’s grandmother had heart issues, and as the years passed, her health worsened. Her only wish was to see Anthony married to Nia, fulfilling the promise she had made to Nia’s grandmother long ago. Anthony had refused at first, flat-out rejected the idea.

“I don’t love her,” he had said once, his voice cold and unyielding.

But when his grandmother threatened to cut him off from his inheritance, he had caved. Three years ago, they married in a quiet ceremony that felt more like a contract than a celebration.

Nia had hoped love would grow with time.

It hadn’t.

In three years, Anthony had touched her only twice, both times when alcohol blurred his senses enough for him to forget who she was. He never stayed close to her afterward. Never spoke about it, but Nia cherished those moments.

And now, one of those nights had given her a child.

The sound of a car horn pulled Nia from her thoughts. Her heart leapt.

“He’s home,” she whispered.

She barely had time to steady herself before the front door opened. Anthony walked in, tall and composed, loosening his tie as if the house were just another stop on his way somewhere else.

She rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Happy anniversary,” she said softly.

He stiffened for half a second before patting her back, his hug brief and hollow.

“Happy anniversary,” he replied, his tone polite, detached.

They sat at the table moments later. The silence was thick, broken only by the clinking of cutlery. Nia forced herself to smile, to pretend this didn’t hurt.

“How was work?” she asked gently.

“Busy,” Anthony said without looking up.

“Did you eat lunch today?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, trying again. “I made your favorite.”

“I can tell.”

That was all. He was always so blunt with her.

Her fingers tightened around her fork, but she took a breath. Tonight mattered too much to let disappointment win.

“I got you something,” she said, reaching beside her chair and lifting the neatly wrapped box onto the table. She pushed it toward him, her eyes shining. “Happy anniversary.”

Anthony glanced at it briefly, then picked it up.

“You shouldn’t have stressed yourself,” he said, setting it aside without opening it.

Her smile faltered. “You’re not going to unwrap it?”

“I’ll do that when I’m free.”

The words stung more than she expected. Still, she nodded.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her voice trembling despite her efforts.

She reached into her purse, her fingers brushing against the pregnancy test. Her heart raced.

Before she could pull it out, Anthony’s phone buzzed on the table.

He glanced at the screen.

Whatever he read made him stand abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He grabbed his suit jacket, already slipping his arms through it.

“I have to go,” he said.

“What?” Nia asked, panic creeping into her voice. “Anthony, what’s going on?”

“Something came up,” he replied, avoiding her eyes. “You should continue without me.”

“Anthony, wait,” she said, standing up. “It’s our anniversary. You didn’t even give me the gift.”

But he was already heading for the door.

Before she could say another word, he was gone, the door closing behind him with finality that made her eyes burn with tears.

Nia stood there, motionless, the pregnancy test clutched in her hand. Slowly, she sat back down, her vision blurring.

“It’s okay,” she whispered to herself, placing a hand over her stomach. “It’s probably work.”

She took a shaky breath, forcing a small smile.

“When he gets back,” she murmured, “he’ll know we’re expecting a child.”