The One He Let Go

Kelly POV

“This is Kelly Brook on Channel 5 News,” I began, my voice steady even as my heart hammered. “Anderson Grant, America’s rising star, has filed for divorce after a decade-long marriage to Miss A. Sources close to the couple confirm that this decision comes as a surprise to Miss A, who was not informed before the filing.

I paused, panic rising. But I had to steady myself; I was on live television, and people nationwide were watching.

"We’ll bring you more updates on this developing story. Stay tuned!"

The broadcast ended, and the moment the cameras switched off, I exhaled sharply. Peeling off my earpiece, I leaned back, trying to control the anxiety clawing at my chest.

Anderson wasn’t just a headline. He was my husband. My secret husband.

For ten years, we had kept our marriage out of the spotlight. The world adored him, but no one knew he belonged to me. I had agreed to keep it private, thinking it would protect us. But now, I wasn’t sure if that secrecy had been my shield or my undoing.

My phone buzzed on the desk.

Mom Grant.

I stared at the name, my jaw tightening. I didn’t have the strength for her right now. Declining the call, I pushed the phone away, but it buzzed again and again.

I sighed and grabbed it, only to see the message flash across my screen:

‘I told you, you won't last in this marriage.’

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Typical Evelyn Grant. She had made it her mission to remind me I wasn’t good enough for her son. From the day Anderson and I exchanged vows, she had questioned my every move, even made snide remarks.

I was used to her taunts; living with my in-laws for 10 years had been a survival-of-the-fittest experience. But today, her words felt like more than just venom—they felt like a prophecy she had made nine years ago.

“Are you okay?” a voice broke through my thoughts. I nodded, stepping out of the office.

***

The city streets blurred past as I gripped the steering wheel, my thoughts spinning faster than the car’s tires. My fingers hovered over Anderson’s name in my contact list before I finally pressed Call.

No answer.

I called again. Still nothing.

Frustration boiled over.

‘We need to talk, call me,’ I fired off the text and threw the phone onto the passenger seat.

A buzz. My heart leaped. Maybe he was finally responding. But it wasn’t Anderson. It was a notification. My stomach dropped as I read the headline.

Breaking News: Anderson Grant Spotted With Mystery Woman!

My fingers trembled as I opened the link, the photos loading slowly, pixel by pixel. And then I saw her. The woman with Anderson wasn’t a stranger.

It was Kate. My twin sister.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head as tears stung my eyes. It couldn’t be true.

The car came to a halt, and I stepped out. Within seconds, everything went dark…..

***

The first thing I noticed was the smell—sterile and suffocating. My eyelids fluttered open, the bright lights stabbing through the haze.

“Mrs. Brook?” a calm voice called.

I turned my head, wincing at the ache in my neck. A man in a white coat stood beside me, his hazel eyes watching me carefully.

“Where am I?” My voice came out raspy, foreign to my own ears.

“The hospital, you fainted in the middle of the road. Someone brought you in just in time.”

The memories came flooding back. The broadcast. Evelyn’s message. The photos.

My phone.

I sat up too quickly, a sharp pain shooting through my head.

“My phone—where is it?”

“Take it easy,” the doctor said, his tone firm but not unkind.

“I need my phone!” I snapped, panic rising.

He sighed, reaching for the table beside me and handing it over. My hands shook as I unlocked it, praying that what I had seen earlier had been some cruel mistake. But as I refreshed the page, the photos were still there.

Kate… She knew.

Kate knew about my marriage to Anderson, but her sudden reappearance after 10 years was suspicious. She had left without a trace after Mom died, disconnecting every communication with everyone.

The IV in my arm became unbearable. I yanked it out, swinging my legs over the bed.

“What are you doing?” the doctor demanded, stepping closer.

“I need to go,” I said, choking back the sobs threatening to escape.

“You’re not in any condition to leave.” His hand closed gently around my wrist.

“Let go of me!” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care.

He didn’t budge, his grip firm but careful.

“My job is to make sure my patients don’t harm themselves.”

“You don’t understand,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “Everything’s falling apart. I need to fix this.”

His hazel eyes softened, but his grip remained steady.

“Whatever it is, it can wait. Right now, you need to take care of yourself.”

His words broke something in me. I slumped back onto the bed, sobbing into my hands.

“Why?” I whispered through the tears, not really expecting an answer. “Why is my life so unfair?”

He didn’t say anything, but his expression quickly changed. It was as if he was pitying me. I hated when people pitied me; they didn't have to remind me that I was living a pathetic life.

Sniffling, I wiped my face and stood again. This time, he didn’t stop me.

“Be careful, take it easy,” he said softly as I walked toward the door.

Without a word, I bolted out.

I stumbled out of the hospital, clutching my arm where I had yanked out the IV. Blood trickled down, staining my sleeve, but I didn’t care. My head pounded with the weight of too many unanswered questions.

I pressed forward, searching for my car. I didn’t see him until it was too late.

“Whoa! Are you okay?”

I collided with someone.