Withdrawal Symptoms

At eighteen, I walked in on Ned fastening a scholarship girl’s bra strap. The young man looked incredibly solemn, his clumsy fingers fumbling with the clasp in a hesitant, awkward rhythm. At twentysix, following family arrangements, I married Ned.

But everyone in our elite circle knew he kept a portrait of that scholarship girl locked away in his study. In our third year of marriage, I asked for a divorce.

He was silent for a long time before signing the agreement. "If you ever need help in the future, just ask." Later, I walked into a gala on the arm of my new law firm partner.

My childhood friend teased us, noting that during the college debate tournament we were at each other’s throats, yet now we were walking hand in hand.

Late that night, Ned’s number lit up my screen for the first time in months, his message reading: "Did you insist on taking that waterfront penthouse back then because you could see his law firm from the window?"

1 Outside, a bitter winter wind rattled the glass, but the penthouse remained cozy and warm. Across the room, Ned sat on the sofa, his tailored suit immaculate, his lean frame casting a long shadow under the dim lights.

His face was just as sharply defined as it had been when we were eighteen, but the fresh cut near his temple ruined the symmetry. Only an hour ago, I had received a call from the local police precinct. Ned had gotten into a fight.

When I arrived at the station, a woman was cupping his face, gently dabbing ointment onto his wound. I recognized her instantly. It was Penny, our old high school classmate.

Seeing me enter, she flinched like a startled bird, pulling her hand back in panic. Ned immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her from my view.

His eyes flashed with cold irritation as he looked at me. "She is easily frightened," he said, his voice clipped. "Don't scare her." I said nothing. Turning on my heel, I followed the officer to sign the release papers.

By the time the paperwork was finalized and I walked back, Penny was already gone. On the drive home, Ned did not say a single word to me. His entire focus was on his phone.

He spent the journey whispering sweet, reassuring words to the woman on the other end of the line. I had never seen him like this. His eyes were soft, protective, and entirely devoted. Every ounce of his patience was being poured out for Penny.

It was in that quiet car, listening to him comfort another woman, that the thought of divorce first crossed my mind.

2 If people considered Ned and me to be childhood sweethearts, then Penny was the one who got away, the tragic muse he could never truly possess. We had all met in high school. Unlike the rest of our privileged circle, Penny was a scholarship student.

She was beautiful, brilliant, and possessed an infectious, hardworking optimism. The moment she transferred into our class, she caught Ned’s attention.

At first, I thought his interest was just a passing phase, a wealthy boy amused by a novel plaything. That was until the day Penny was falsely accused of stealing the class funds. A group of girls had dragged her into the restrooms to corner her.

By the time I heard the rumors and rushed over, the bullies had already left. The empty restroom was dead silent, save for Penny, who was shivering in the corner, her shirt torn open.

I pulled off my coat, intending to go in and help her, but before I could take a step, Ned walked out from one of the stalls. He was holding Penny’s jacket. Penny kept her back turned to him, her voice thick with tears. "Just leave.

If anyone sees you here, we will never be able to explain it." "Then we won't explain it," Ned replied softly. "Just put your jacket on first." After a tense silence, she relented.

But for some reason, she struggled to fasten her bra strap with her trembling hands. Without a second thought, Ned stepped in. "Let me." His expression was incredibly solemn, his fingers clumsy and hesitant as he fumbled with the clasp.

When he finally got it secure, I saw the tips of his ears turn a deep, burning crimson. When he turned around, his eyes met mine.

A flash of panic crossed his features, but he quickly composed himself and walked toward me. "You're just in time," he said, keeping his voice steady. "Go help her." He walked out, but paused at the door to look back at me. "Keep this between us.

Please." I promised him I would. Yet, by that very afternoon, photos of Ned helping Penny dress had circulated through the entire school. Ned was convinced I was the one who leaked them.

That day, he lost his temper with me for the first time. "Andrea, don't think just because my parents back you, I won't do anything to you," he snarled. "You are their choice for a wife, not mine.

No one dictates who I marry." I pressed my lips together, refusing to let my voice shake. "Whether you believe me or not, I had nothing to do with this." He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "You were the only one there.

If it wasn't you, who else could it be?" "It wasn't me!" I shouted back, my stubborn pride refusing to back down. "Why would I even make up such a rumor?" "Because you're jealous that she's with me." My mind went entirely blank.

I stared at him, unable to process his words. "Since... since when?" I whispered. He looked at me with cold amusement. "I saw her intimate side.

Naturally, I have to take responsibility for her." "But what about us?" He cut me off, his impatience cutting through me like a knife. "Andrea, you didn't actually think that just because I looked out for you over the years, I loved you, did you?" I felt as though I had been plunged into a frozen lake, my limbs too numb to move.

That night, Ned’s family found out about his relationship with Penny. His father dragged him to our house to force an apology.

But Ned stood tall, his jaw set in defiance as he muttered words that nearly drove his father mad: "If you love Andrea so much, why don't you marry her yourself?" That earned him a brutal beating from both families.

Back then, Ned was too young to understand how the world worked. He didn't realize that I had been groomed to be his wife since childhood. As the sole heir of his family's empire, he never had the luxury of choice.

And so, in the end, he still married me. Shortly after the photo scandal, Penny transferred to another school. Once graduation was over, Ned was packed off to study abroad, staying away for eight long years.

When he returned to take over the family business, the boyish warmth was entirely gone, replaced by a cold, calculating gravity. He came to me and proposed. "Since we are both still single, we might as well get married," he said.

I knew I couldn't escape an arranged marriage. Marrying someone I had known my whole life seemed like the safest bet. It was only later that I discovered Ned had gone to find Penny the very day he landed. But Penny had too much pride.

She rejected him. His proposal to me was nothing more than a childish act of retaliation against her.

3 "I have to go out. Go to sleep without me." Ned's voice pulled me back to the present. He stood up, adjusting his coat as he spoke into his phone, his tone softening instantly. "Don't be scared. I'm on my way now. They won't dare touch you.

Lock the door and wait for me." I stood up from the sofa. "It's late. Do you really have to go?" He paused for a fraction of a second, but did not look back. "Something came up.

I will be back very late." Before he could reach the door, I called out his name again. He stopped, his shoulders tense with annoyance. "What is it now?" "Ned," I said quietly, "let's get a divorce." Anger flared in his eyes.

He turned to face me, trying to keep his temper in check. "What kind of game are you playing now?" "Penny had a major scare tonight," he continued, as if explaining things to a difficult child. "She has no friends or family in this city.

She only has me to rely on." I stared at him, my gaze unwavering. "And relying on you means you have to visit the club where she works every single day to defend her honor?" "The great CEO of the family empire, getting into a fistfight over a waitress and ending up at the police station.

Is that what you call helping?" Ned's lips thinned into a hard, dangerous line.

His dark eyes held a silent warning. "I will get to the bottom of what happened tonight." He paused, adding coldly, "It had better not have anything to do with you." The accusation felt like a bucket of ice water poured over my head, freezing the blood in my veins.

For the past three years of our marriage, Ned had never lost his temper with me. He had been polite and distant, leading me to believe he had finally moved on and wanted to build a life together. Now I realized it was all a delusion.

I suddenly remembered the locked drawer in his study. He had handpainted a portrait of Penny, a fact he never hid from anyone, not even his family. His grandfather had been so furious that he forced Ned to hang our wedding photo in the study instead.

But Ned simply locked Penny's portrait away. At this moment, I finally understood. He had never surrendered. He was just fighting his family in his own silent, stubborn way. The wind howled outside.

The balcony door in the dining room was slightly ajar, letting in a sudden draft that made me shiver. Right then, a sharp, terrified scream echoed from Ned’s phone. In an instant, the cold composure on Ned’s face crumbled, replaced by absolute panic.

He bolted out the door, his voice laced with desperate fear. "Penny, don't scream! I'm ten minutes away! Don't open the door for anyone!" The heavy door slammed shut, cutting off the last of his warmth. He didn't return that night.

I sat on the sofa alone, watching the darkness fade into dawn. As the morning light filled the room, my phone buzzed with two messages. The first was a photograph of Ned and Penny walking side by side into a luxury hotel.

The second was a text: "Divorce him. Choose me instead, okay?" I scrolled up to see three previous, unanswered messages from the same sender: Andrea, I'm back. Whenever you need me, I'm here. Do you really love him that much?

Why can't you love me instead? My eyes burned. I blinked back the tears and quickly typed a response: "Okay."

4 Ned finally returned the following afternoon. He had changed into a brandnew suit, a midrange label he would normally never glance at. He looked clean and puttogether, without even a trace of women's perfume on his collar.

But the vivid red mark on his collarbone was hard to miss. No one would believe he and Penny had spent the entire night and morning in a hotel room doing nothing.

Perhaps out of guilt, he had brought me a gift. "I'm sorry," he said, placing the box on the table. "I lost my temper yesterday. I shouldn't have spoken to you that way." I didn't look at the box.

Instead, I pulled the preprepared divorce agreement from the drawer and slid it across the table to him. "Take a look. If everything is in order, sign it." Ned’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Just because I helped an old classmate?

Is this really necessary, Andrea?" He let out a sigh of disbelief. "When did you become so petty?" I ignored his remarks. "Our prenuptial agreement already keeps our individual assets separate. We will split the joint liquid assets down the middle.

As for the real estate, I only want the waterfront penthouse." Ned finally sat up straight, his gaze turning sharp and analytical. After a long silence, he let out a cold laugh. "Is this your new strategy to get my attention?" He didn't believe me.

He thought this was just another dramatic ploy to make him chase me. It made sense. The family name carried immense weight in our social circles, and countless wealthy families dreamed of marrying their daughters into his house.

In his mind, I had absolutely no reason to give up my status as his wife. But the truth was, I had wanted to give up a long time ago. It had happened on a very ordinary evening. Ned had returned home dead drunk after a business dinner.

When I went to help him to bed, he had pushed me away, his voice dripping with venom. "Andrea, your love makes me sick." I had frozen in place, a dull, aching pain blooming in my chest. I distinctly remembered a time when he did love me.

During our freshman year of high school, we weren't in the same classroom, but our doors faced each other across the hallway. When a minor earthquake shook our city, the tremors were terrifyingly strong.

Ned had been the very first to run out of his classroom, straight into mine. He had thrown his jacket over my head and literally dragged me down the stairs to safety.

There was no real damage from the quake, and my only injury was the dark bruise his tight grip had left on my wrist. His friends had teased him for weeks, saying I was his most prized possession, and joking that we should just get married on the spot.

I thought Ned would be annoyed, but he had simply looked at them and said, "We will get married." "Don't speak too soon, man. We're years away from the legal age," his buddy had laughed.

But Ned’s eyes had been deadly serious. "If she isn't the one standing beside me at the altar, don't any of you bother showing up." When we did get married, all his childhood friends had attended. But what was the point of those memories now?

5 Believing I was merely playing hard to get, Ned sat back and watched me with cool detachment. In the past, whenever we had a disagreement, I was always the one to back down and apologize. He expected this time to be no different.

He had no idea that my mind was completely made up. I pulled the document toward myself, picked up a pen, and under his dismissive gaze, flipped to the final page. I signed my name without a single second of hesitation.

I slid the pen over to him. "Your turn." The realization finally dawned on him.

The dismissive look vanished from his eyes, replaced by a heavy, dark gravity. "Are you serious about this?" I glanced at my watch. "If we leave for the courthouse now, we can still make the final appointment of the day." He remained silent, his dark eyes searching my face for any sign of a bluff.

Finding none, his expression hardened. "Fine. Let's do it." He snatched the pen and signed his name. Just before he finished, his hand paused. "My grandfather's eightieth birthday is next month.

I don't want the family knowing about the divorce until after the celebration." "Agreed," I said.

I stood up and dragged my prepacked suitcase out from the corner of the room. "Andrea," he said, his voice losing some of its harshness. "You can continue staying here." "There's no need." If we were parting ways, there was no point in lingering. "If you ever need help with anything in the future, just ask," he added.

I didn't answer. As I reached the foyer, he quickly caught up to me. "I'll drive you." "No need. Someone is already waiting for me." Downstairs, a tall, commanding figure stood under the warm glow of the streetlight.

The moment he saw me, he took long strides toward me and naturally took the handle of my suitcase.

Once we were settled in the car, I turned to the driver’s seat to look at the sharp, aristocratic profile of the man beside me. "Nate," I said softly, "give me one month." Nate let out a low, gentle laugh.

He leaned over, his cologne filling the small space as he buckled my seatbelt for me. "A month is nothing," he murmured, his eyes locking onto mine. "I can wait."

6 Nate and I had been classmates in law school. We were both top of our class, constantly competing, constantly pushing each other. We had first truly noticed each other during a major varsity debate tournament.

The motion that day was: If you had the superpower to force the person you love to love you back, would you use it? Nate was on the opposing side, and I was on the affirmative.

It was a fierce, passionate debate, but in the end, my team took the victory.

After the round, he had stopped me in the corridor. "If I had that power, I wouldn't hesitate to use it." Young and arrogant as I was back then, my reply had been sharp and biting. "Then you don't deserve to be loved." Nate had stared at me for a long time before speaking. "I love her, but I also respect her.

As long as I don't give up, she will eventually see me." I had smiled mockingly. "So even the brilliant Nate has someone he can't have?" He hadn't answered, only keeping his quiet, intense gaze on me.

Later, our roles in the student council forced us to work together constantly. Every meeting was a clash of wits, but over those four years, a deep, unspoken bond had formed between us.

On the night of our graduation, he had invited me out for drinks, and I had accepted. He asked me about my plans for the future. I had joked, "What else is there for someone like me?

I'll marry some suitable bachelor, have kids, and secure some longterm partnership for my family's firm." Nate had looked at me with absolute sincerity. "Can you wait for me? Give me five years.

Just five years, okay?" The bar had been too loud, and I had pretended not to hear him. But the moment I drained my glass, Nate had leaned in and kissed me. I had panicked and fled.

It wasn't because of his boldness, but because of the terrifying realization that I had leaned into the kiss and wanted more. The sudden loss of control had frightened me. I had turned off my phone and cut contact for a week.

By the time I turned it back on, I found out Nate had already left the country to pursue his master's degree. He had stayed abroad for four years. By the time he returned, I was already another man's wife.