Cherished Dream Reads Facebook and Instagram ad

Ethan forgot our wedding anniversary for the fifth time. At two in the morning, he pushed open the door. He reeked of alcohol and someone else's perfume, his voice buzzing with excitement. "Sophia's getting divorced! This is my chance!" I stood there, the wound on my left shoulder still throbbing quietly where the sixteen stitches held it together. I had taken that knife for him three days ago. He still didn't know. "Ethan," I said softly, "let's get divorced." He paused, then laughed. "Sure! Even after the divorce, you'll still be my best friend. Oh, and come help me pick out an engagement ring tomorrow. Your fingers are about the same size as hers. Try it on for me." I stared at that completely unbothered face of his and suddenly felt that these twenty-two years of loving him in silence had been nothing but a joke I had played on myself. I slipped the plain silver band off my finger and set it on the table. That ring had cost me next to nothing. I had worn it for five years. Now, at last, it didn't have to lie for anyone anymore. Jamie's POV Two in the morning. Ethan pushed open the door. I was sitting beside the floor lamp in the living room, a book open on my lap, no pages turned. Today was the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Ethan Foster. It was also the fifth year he had completely forgotten. Ethan smelled of alcohol. When his beautiful eyes landed on me, they curved into a smile. "Jamie! I knew you'd still be up." He walked over, looped his long arm around my neck, and half-collapsed against me, bringing with him a cloud of sweet, unmistakably feminine perfume. "Come on, make me some honey water. My head's killing me." My heart ached so badly I could barely breathe, but I just pushed him off with a tired look. "Ethan, you're almost thirty, not three. Would it kill you to drink less?" "I was celebrating." Ethan threw himself onto the couch, his long legs propped up on the coffee table without a care in the world, his grin bright enough to hurt. "Jamie, she's back." My hand stilled on the glass I was pouring. I didn't need to ask who she was. There was only one person who could make Ethan Foster look that stupidly, helplessly happy. Sophia Whitfield. "Congratulations." I kept my back to him, my voice frighteningly calm. Ethan took a few gulps of the honey water and grabbed my wrist, buzzing with excitement. "She's divorced. Her ex treated her badly. She's been through so much. Jamie, this is my chance!" I looked at this man I had loved for twenty-two years straight. From the time I was five until now, at twenty-seven, I had grown up alongside Ethan. I had stood by him through fights, skipped class with him, and watched him chase after Sophia. And when he blew up his relationship with his entire family over her and hit rock bottom, I had stayed. Right there beside him. His family, desperate to make him move on, started looking for a suitable match for him within their circle. Ethan decided it didn't matter who he married. He even told his father: "As long as it's not Sophia, it's all the same to me." I was the one who stepped forward. I said, "If it's all the same to you, then marry me, Ethan. A fake marriage. When you're free of your family, or when she comes back, I'll give you a divorce whenever you want." Back then, Ethan had held me and sobbed. "Jamie, you're the best person in my whole life. I promise you, you'll always have a place in this family. Nobody will ever make you feel like you don't belong." He kept that promise. For five years, he gave me every privilege and protection. He trusted me more than anyone. The safe combination, the company's most sensitive secrets, even his personal seal. He held nothing back. He was good to me, except for one thing. He didn't love me. "Since she's back, let's get divorced." Ethan blinked. "Already?" "She's back. It's time for me to step aside." I stood up, my downcast lashes hiding everything behind my eyes. "I'll contact a lawyer and have the divorce papers drawn up as soon as possible. I'll pack my things and be out of here quickly." Ethan studied my unnervingly calm expression and hesitated. "Jamie, I'm not going to shortchange you on the settlement. The penthouse in Manhattan, plus one percent of Foster Group's shares." One percent of Foster Group. Worth hundreds of millions. He was, as always, generous. "And don't move too far after the divorce. The house in Beverly Hills is yours too. It's close by. We'll still be best friends. Whatever you need, just say the word. I promised I'd look out for you for the rest of your life." I looked down at the plain silver band on my ring finger. We'd bought it at a roadside jewelry stand on the day we filed the paperwork. Ethan had tossed it to me casually and said, "If we're going to put on a show, we need the right props. Just wear it." That cheap silver ring, I had worn it for five years without ever taking it off. I had worn it so long it left a faint mark on my finger. Best friends? What I felt for him had never been friendship. I slowly slid the ring off and set it on the table. It made a small, quiet sound. "You don't have to do that." My voice came out a little rough. "Ethan, I just want you to be happy." "What's with the formality?" Ethan frowned. "You'll need money when you get married someday..." He suddenly laughed, like he'd just thought of something funny. "Actually, I almost forget sometimes that you're a woman. God help whoever falls for you." Something rose in my throat, sharp and metallic. I forced it back down. "Ethan." I called his full name, my eyes stinging just slightly. "Yeah?" He was already looking down at his phone, texting Sophia, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, not even glancing up. "...I'm tired. I'm going to bed." The words I have loved you for twenty-two years rotted silently in my chest. "Wait, Jamie." I stopped. And somewhere deep and humiliating, a tiny flicker of hope lit up. Had he remembered? That today was our anniversary? That I had spent five years never leaving his side? "There's a charity gala tomorrow night. Come with me."

When my fiancé Ethan was picking out wedding jewelry, he bought two pieces — and let my sister Ava choose first. One was a pink diamond necklace he'd tracked down across three cities, paying a fortune at auction. The other was a cheap black brooch that came free with the necklace. It clashed completely with my wedding dress. For once, I pointed at the necklace. "This time — can I choose first?" Ethan ruffled my hair. "Ava's always been picky. She has to have the best of everything. You're not like that — whatever's left is still fine." I didn't respond. I just felt hollow inside. Twenty years of growing up side by side with Ethan, and in his eyes, I would always be the one picking up what Ava left behind. Eventually, even love was no different. He'd had feelings for Ava. But Ava chose to chase her career. Heartbroken, Ethan turned to me and confessed. I stared at that black brooch, and suddenly reached out and gave it a small push. "Keep both. I don't want to choose." I was done choosing leftovers. Ethan let out a helpless sigh. "Olivia, this brooch could never suit Ava." I looked at him steadily. "Then why does it suit me?" Ethan froze for a moment, then smiled. "When you two were little and stood next to each other, everyone said you looked like her scrawny little sidekick." "Pink diamonds aren't your style. Black is good — understated, suits anyone." Sidekick. Ava and I were twins. But I couldn't match her in a single thing. At school, Ava was always number one. I'd pull all-nighters until my eyes were red, and still only hovered somewhere in the middle. Mom would press a finger to my forehead and sigh. "Same womb, same family — how are you this slow? Oh well. One smart kid is enough." I trailed behind Ava everywhere. Carrying her bag, peeling her fruit. Ten years of being called her sidekick. I'd told Ethan more than once that I hated that nickname. He kept using it anyway. I looked at him calmly. "Ethan, let's break up." Ethan stared at me, laughing like he was humoring a child. "Alright, if you don't like the brooch, just pick something else. You don't need to say things like that." "We'll go to the mall right now. You pick until you're happy. Deal?" Ava slid the pink diamond necklace across the table toward me. "Olivia, take my necklace. You're practically married — you're an adult now. Stop acting out." But Ethan stopped her. "That one was specially picked for you. It wouldn't suit Olivia — it'd be wasted on her." So it wasn't a choice at all. He'd always intended it for Ava. Ethan put his arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the door. But the moment we reached the ground floor of the mall, Ava said she wanted to check out a new perfume. Ethan nodded immediately. "Then we'll go with Ava first. We can pick your gift after. There's no rush." Again. Ava spent a long time at the counter, testing different scents. She narrowed it down to two and couldn't decide. Ethan noticed her hesitation. "Just get both. You pick one to use now, and the other one goes to Olivia. When you want it back, just swap with her." He paid, then turned and handed a bottle to me. "See? Now you don't even have to choose your own gift. Ava has great taste. You should be happy." I didn't take it. I stared at that bottle and almost laughed. Wasn't I supposed to be choosing for myself today? "I'm going back to your place to get my things. I won't be coming back after this." Ethan's hand froze mid-air. For the first time, he looked genuinely serious. "Olivia, stop this." That same evening, he called my parents over. Mom walked in and immediately went for my temples with her finger. "Are you out of your mind? Breaking up? Over what?" "You tell me — what do you think you have that's good enough for Ethan? You're average-looking, you're not the sharpest. If Ava weren't busy with her career, you think you'd even be in the picture?" My temples throbbed with every word. I'd heard all of this so many times. Not a single word was new. I was slow. I was plain. I wasn't Ava. Ethan stepped in front of me then, smiling, smoothing things over. "Don't say that. Olivia is the sweetest — she's more than good enough for me." Mom immediately turned to Ethan with an approving look. "See? He's defending you. Where are you going to find someone like him again?" "If you break up with him, don't bother coming home." Right. Such a wonderful man. I should be grateful. I breathed in slowly. "Okay." Everyone let out a quiet breath of relief, like a difficult child had finally come to her senses. I went to my room. I called my friend and let the tears fall without a sound. "Lily, is there still room for me at that pottery studio?" On the other end, she was careful with her words. "Aren't you about to get married? Will your family even let you go?" I looked out at the dark night beyond the window, and a small smile crossed my face. "Lily — what would you say if I told you I was going to skip the wedding?"

The moment the auction hammer fell, I thought that three-hundred-million-dollar necklace would end up around my neck. "Mr. Channing really does spoil Evelyn to the bone." The whispers around us hadn't even faded when Ethan Channing stepped right past me and walked straight toward the woman sitting at the far edge of the second row. He opened the velvet box himself, lifted out the Dream Tide necklace, and clasped it around her neck. "Ethan, you still remember I love stars." The woman slipped off her sunglasses. Her eyes were faintly red. "Of course." Dead silence fell over the room. Every gaze that had been full of envy when it landed on me shifted all at once into something unmistakably like pity. I sat in the VIP section, my fingertips digging into the ultrasound printout buried inside my purse. Six weeks. A tiny gestational sac. That piece of paper suddenly felt like a brand pressed against my skin. So it turned out he could toss me fifty million dollars for some painting without a second thought, and in the same breath, lift another woman onto a pedestal in front of everyone. Evelyn's POV New York's most prestigious charity auction. Dazzling lights. The quiet rustle of silk and perfume. I sat in the front-row VIP section, my hand drifting almost unconsciously to the hidden pocket of my clutch. Inside was an ultrasound printout I had gotten that morning. Six weeks. You could already make out the tiny gestational sac. "Our next lot is Resting Light, a posthumous work by the celebrated autistic savant painter. Opening bid: ten million dollars." The auctioneer's voice echoed through the hall. I'd always loved that painting. I wanted to bid on it and hang it in the art therapy room at the special needs school. The man beside me, Ethan Channing, was leaning back in his chair with that lazy ease he always carried. He didn't even glance at the stage. He just raised his paddle. "Fifty million." The room erupted. Then came the whispers, thick with envy. "Mr. Channing really does spoil Evelyn rotten, dropping fifty million on a painting without so much as blinking." "Who doesn't know Evelyn is everything to Ethan? Seven years, and the man built her the best special needs school in all of New York from the ground up." I turned to look at him as the murmurs swirled around us. His profile was sharp and composed. He noticed my gaze and turned toward me, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear with an ease that felt entirely natural. "Do you like it?" His voice was gentle. "Think of it as a warm-up for your seven-year anniversary gift." Something warm stirred in my chest. I reached for his hand. I was finally about to tell him about the pregnancy. "Ethan, I actually have something for you too." "Shh." He closed his fingers around mine, but his eyes had already moved past me, toward the stage. "The closing lot is up." It was the evening's headline piece. The Dream Tide sapphire necklace. Opening bid: one hundred million dollars. Ethan let go of my hand and sat up straight. "Three hundred million." His voice dropped into the silence of the room like a stone. Final. Unarguable. I froze. Three hundred million for a necklace? I never wore jewelry like that. Ethan knew that about me. The hammer came down. Ethan rose from his seat. Under the eyes of every person in that room, he accepted the velvet box from the attendant. I thought he was going to hand it to me. I'd already begun to smile. But Ethan simply stepped past me. He walked, long and unhurried, straight to a corner at the far end of the second row. A woman was sitting there. Slender. Dark glasses covering her face. Ethan stopped in front of her. The cool edge in his expression softened in an instant. He opened the box himself, lifted out the necklace, leaned down, and fastened it around her neck with his own hands. The woman slipped her sunglasses off to reveal a face that was delicate and pale. She looked up at Ethan, her eyes going pink at the corners. "Ethan, you still remember I love stars." "Of course." His voice was quiet, but it reached me clearly. That was Serena. Ethan's first love, the one who had left for Paris seven years ago. The room went graveyard still. Every look that turned my way shifted in an instant from envy into pity, sharp and unconcealed. I sat where I was, the ultrasound printout in my bag pressing against me like a hot iron. So this was how it worked. He could casually throw fifty million at a painting and keep me gilded and displayed like something precious. And then, in the very same evening, he could grind what was left of my dignity into the floor for someone else, with the whole room watching. He gave me every material thing I could want. And then, in front of everyone, he delivered the cruelest blow imaginable.

The sound of zippers and rustling fabric greeted me as I pushed open the apartment door, my hand instinctively moving to cradle the gentle swell of my belly. Five months along, and I still felt a flutter of excitement each time I came home, imagining Carson's face lighting up when he saw me. Instead, I found him hunched over an open suitcase on our bed, methodically folding shirts with the same detached efficiency he used for everything else these days. "Going somewhere?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, though my heart already knew the answer. Carson didn't look up. "Violette needs help with Tyler's school enrollment. The private schools have these complicated interviews, and she's still emotional from her breakup. I can't just leave her to handle it alone." The words hit me like ice water. "What about our wedding planning meeting tomorrow? We've rescheduled twice already." "We'll figure it out when I get back." He finally glanced at me, his expression already defensive. "This is important, Skylar. Tyler's future is at stake." "And what about our baby's future?" My voice cracked despite my efforts to stay calm. "What about our future?" Carson's jaw tightened. "Don't be dramatic. A few more days won't hurt anything. The wedding will happen." But as I watched him pack his favorite cologne—the one I'd given him for our anniversary—something cold settled in my chest. When would it happen? When Violette no longer needed him? When Tyler graduated? When hell froze over? I turned away before he could see the tears threatening to spill. In the hallway, I stopped short at the sight of what used to be our nursery. The door stood wide open, revealing a child's paradise that had nothing to do with the baby growing inside me. A bright red race car bed dominated the center of the room, surrounded by expensive toys still in their packaging. Building blocks, action figures, and a gaming console I'd never seen before cluttered every surface. The walls, which Carson and I had painted a soft yellow just two months ago, now bore colorful decals of cartoon characters I didn't recognize. In the corner, still in their unopened boxes, sat the crib and changing table we'd carefully selected together. The mobile I'd fallen in love with—tiny stars and moons that would have danced above our baby's head—lay forgotten beneath a pile of Tyler's new clothes. "When did you do this?" My voice came out as barely a whisper. Carson appeared behind me, his footsteps hesitant. "Violette mentioned Tyler needed a proper space when he stays over. Kids need consistency, you know? Stability." "And our baby?" I turned to face him, my hand pressed protectively against my stomach. "What about our baby's stability?" "There's time for that later." He wouldn't meet my eyes. "Tyler's here now. He needs this now." The casual dismissal of our unborn child's needs in favor of another woman's son felt like a physical blow. I stared at the race car bed, at the expensive toys, at the careful thought that had gone into creating this space—thought that had never been given to our own child's room. "You didn't even ask me." "I knew you'd understand. You're always so reasonable about these things." Reasonable. The word tasted bitter in my mouth. When had being understanding become synonymous with being invisible? Three hours later, I sat in Carson's mother's dining room, surrounded by the suffocating scent of garlic and shellfish. The elaborate spread before me might as well have been poison—lobster thermidor, shrimp scampi, crab cakes, and oysters Rockefeller. Every dish contained something that could send me to the hospital. Carson sat beside me, enthusiastically discussing Tyler's academic prospects with Violette while I nibbled on dinner rolls, my stomach growling audibly. "Skylar, you're not eating," Carson's mother observed with false concern. "Don't tell me you're one of those women who stops eating during pregnancy." "She has a shellfish allergy," Violette said sweetly, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Didn't Carson mention it when planning the menu?" The silence that followed was deafening. Carson's fork paused halfway to his mouth, his face flushing as realization dawned. After two years together, after countless dinners and careful menu planning, he'd forgotten the one dietary restriction that could literally kill me. "I... I thought you could just avoid the shellfish dishes," he mumbled. "Everything's been prepared in the same kitchen," I said quietly, touching the pearl necklace at my throat—my mother's necklace, the only thing of value I had left. "Cross-contamination." Violette reached across the table with theatrical concern, her hand brushing against my necklace. "Oh, how terrible! You must be starv—" The delicate strand snapped under her touch, pearls scattering across the mahogany table like tears. Some rolled onto the floor with soft plinks that echoed in the sudden silence. "Oh!" Violette gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. "I'm so sorry! It was an accident!" But I'd seen the deliberate pressure of her fingers, the calculated timing. As I watched my mother's pearls—her final gift, her blessing—disappear under chairs and into corners, something inside me finally broke too. "Just an accident," Carson echoed, already moving to comfort Violette's crocodile tears. "These things happen, Skylar. Don't make a big deal out of it." I stared at him, at this man who'd forgotten my allergy, converted our nursery without asking, and now dismissed the destruction of my most precious possession as if it meant nothing. As if I meant nothing. Rising from my chair, I felt something shift inside me—not the baby, but something deeper. Something that had been bending and bending until it finally reached its breaking point. "You're right," I said softly, my voice steady for the first time in months. "These things do happen." But as I walked toward the door, leaving the scattered pearls and my shattered illusions behind, I knew that some accidents were really choices in disguise. And I was finally ready to make one of my own.

"Entspannende Halloween-Bastelei: Verwandle winzige Perlen in gruselig-süße Deko. 👻🎃 #Diamantmalerei #HalloweenBasteln #HerbstWanddeko #Halloween2026 #PerlenmalereiSet"

🎉Ready to steal the show at parties? Our uniquely designed mini dresses are your secret weapon.

"Entspannende Halloween-Bastelei: Verwandle winzige Perlen in gruselig-süße Deko. 👻🎃 #Diamantmalerei #HalloweenBasteln #HerbstWanddeko #Halloween2026 #PerlenmalereiSet"

"Entspannende Halloween-Bastelei: Verwandle winzige Perlen in gruselig-süße Deko. 👻🎃 #Diamantmalerei #HalloweenBasteln #HerbstWanddeko #Halloween2026 #PerlenmalereiSet"