The Rolex on My Dog: I’m Done Being Your Second Choice

A gold-and-silver Rolex was dangling from my dog’s collar. A fifty-thousand-dollar Rolex, shining brightly around Buster’s furry neck. When my wife, Chloe, came home that night, I placed the watch on the coffee table right in front of her. She was glued to her phone, laughing and typing away on Snapchat. She glanced up, saw the watch, and smirked. "New watch? Your taste is getting better." I didn't say anything. I just pushed the watch a little closer to her. "Chloe, let's get a divorce." She finally looked up from her phone, her eyes filled with confusion. "What is that supposed to be? Why are you bringing this up out of nowhere?" I looked at her, my voice completely flat. "That watch isn't mine." I never wear anything on my wrists. She didn’t even remember that. 1. "If it’s not yours, whose is it?" Chloe put her phone down and picked up the watch. My eyes fell on her screen, which was still lit. Message notifications from Julian Vance were popping up one after another. Now, I knew exactly who the watch belonged to. Julian Vance was the regional president of a partner company. He and Chloe had been doing a lot of business together lately. I had met Julian twice. The first time was a month ago at Chloe’s corporate anniversary party. That day, Chloe’s mom, Helen, fell suddenly ill. I rushed her to the hospital, stood in line for hours, handled the insurance, and made sure she was admitted. By the time I finally made it to Chloe’s party, the celebration was already in full swing. Chloe was cutting the cake, and a man in a perfectly tailored suit was standing right next to her. I stood near the entrance where the light was dim. I overheard two of her employees chatting nearby. "Oh my gosh, Chloe and Julian look so good together!" "Right? Power couple goals. They look like they walked straight out of a billionaire romance novel." "Totally. Unlike her husband. He looks like a total freeloader living off her." "Yeah, her husband is honestly so—" They stopped mid-sentence when one of them noticed me. They looked panicked and quickly walked away. I swallowed my pride and looked back at Chloe and Julian. After cutting the cake, Julian helped Chloe hand out slices to the staff. Suddenly, he dipped his finger in some frosting and playfully wiped it on the tip of her nose. Instead of getting mad, Chloe let out a bright, beautiful laugh. She dipped her own finger in the frosting and swiped it across his cheek. They laughed, looking into each other's eyes. In that moment, my heart sank into a frozen abyss. I remembered our wedding three years ago. When we cut the cake, I playfully tried to put a little frosting on her face, too. But back then, her face instantly turned ice-cold. The cheerful atmosphere had died instantly. Chloe grabbed a napkin, wiped her face, and hissed, "I'm a germaphobe. I hate when people do that." Then, she walked out. She left me standing there, humiliated, in front of a room full of awkward guests. For the next three years, I walked on eggshells to accommodate her "germaphobia." But seeing her laugh with Julian made me realize the brutal truth: she didn't hate the frosting. She just hated that it was me doing it. 2. Noticing where I was looking, Chloe calmly locked her phone screen. She turned the watch over in her hands. "You're right, it's not yours. You couldn't afford a fifty-thousand-dollar Rolex even if you drew illustrations for ten years," she said. Her voice was calm, but the insult cut deep. She put the watch into her bag. "Julian came over yesterday. He must have left it here by accident. I'll return it to him tomorrow." I stood there, watching her quietly. The watch had been clipped to Buster's collar. That was no accident. We are all adults. I wasn't blind to the lust and possessiveness in Julian’s eyes whenever he looked at Chloe. Leaving his expensive watch on my dog was a blatant power move. He was marking his territory. He was telling me that he had been in my house, played with my dog, and left a piece of his wealthy life behind to mock me. I couldn't gaslight myself anymore. Seeing me stand still, Chloe finally seemed to remember my mention of divorce. She sighed with annoyance. "Look, Julian and I were discussing a deal at the coffee shop down the street yesterday. It started pouring rain, and his clothes got soaked. I brought him here to change into one of your dry shirts. That's probably how he dropped the watch." She finished her explanation and glared at me, her patience running thin. I looked down at the floor and repeated, "Let's get a divorce." 3. Even before we got married, I knew I wasn't Chloe’s dream guy. But I was the most convenient option. Chloe had always been a high-achiever. In college, she was always the group leader, the straight-A student, the star presenter. Right after graduation, she started her own marketing agency. In just a few years, she turned a five-person studio into a successful firm with over a hundred employees. She once told me she wanted a "power couple" relationship. Her ideal man was an alpha, a corporate elite who could match her drive. Meanwhile, I was just a freelance illustrator. I spent my days sitting in front of a drawing tablet, editing sketches. I was about as far from "corporate elite" as a man could get. Yet, somehow, she married me. Because she hadn't found her dream guy, Chloe had remained single. But her traditional mother, Helen, couldn't stand it. She pressured Chloe to settle down by the time she turned twenty-seven. When Chloe approached me with a marriage proposal, I thought I was dreaming. I had been secretly in love with her all through college. "The way you look at me is different from other guys," she had told me back then. " And since my mom is forcing me to marry someone, it might as well be someone who actually loves me, right?" With just those two sentences, she captured my heart. We got our marriage license that very day. She left all the wedding planning to me. I poured my heart into organizing a beautiful wedding, only for her to humiliate me at the reception. But back then, I foolishly believed that even if she didn't love me yet, she chose me. I thought my warmth would eventually melt her cold heart. But looking at that watch today, I realized I was just exhausted. Chloe was a woman with a high IQ and EQ. She could read my feelings instantly. How could she possibly be blind to Julian's obvious advances? 4. "You want a divorce over this?" Chloe slammed her hand on the table and stood up, looking at me with pure disbelief. "Julian is my biggest client! His clothes got wet, so I let him change. What is the big deal?" "If you're going to pick fights over nothing, maybe you should get a real job. You're clearly just bored from staying home all day." Her face was twisted with disgust. But she seemed to forget that I had a job. Sure, I didn't make as much as her, but over the years, my illustration contracts had brought in a very comfortable, steady income. She always looked down on my career. But deep down, I knew she just looked down on me. Because Julian could paint, too. That was the second time I saw Julian. He was standing right next to Chloe at an art gallery. I was standing a few feet behind them. I heard Julian talking about how he had studied fine arts for over a decade. He went on and on about the brushstrokes, the inspiration, and the history of the painting in front of them. Chloe’s eyes were shining with admiration. She was so captivated by him that she didn't even notice me standing right there. She probably forgot, but that wasn't the first time she had seen that painting. During our first anniversary, I tried to plan a romantic date to bring us closer. I asked her if she wanted to go out, and she told me to just plan whatever. So, I bought two tickets to that exact art exhibition. When she paused in front of this very painting, I excitedly started telling her about the artist’s background and the story behind the piece. But halfway through my sentence, I realized she was just scrolling through her phone. My feelings were deeply hurt, and it showed on my face. Noticing my mood, she offered to buy me dinner. I thought she was finally starting to care about my feelings. Instead, she coldly told me: "Justin, I'm just too busy for this. Let's not waste time on dates anymore." I ate that dinner in silence. And I never planned another date. So, seeing her gaze so passionately at Julian at the same gallery broke my heart. Even then, my foolish heart tried to make excuses for her. I kept telling myself they hadn't actually slept together, that they were just business partners. But now, I was done lying to myself. I was done torturing myself. As Chloe herself said, if you're going to marry someone, you might as well choose someone who actually loves you—even if you don't love them back. 5. "I'm not picking a fight," I said quietly, taking a deep breath.. "There's no need to split assets. I brought nothing into this marriage, and I will leave with nothing. We keep our own bank accounts. Also, Helen just got discharged from the hospital a couple of days ago. If you have time, you should go visit her." My voice was calm, and my heart was even calmer. I wasn't telling her to visit her mother out of spite. Helen had been genuinely wonderful to me. My parents passed away when I was young, and most of the maternal warmth I experienced in my adult life came from Helen. As I spoke, Chloe's face grew darker and darker. Finally, she sneered, "You are losing your mind." She grabbed her coat and walked toward the door. But after a few steps, she suddenly turned back. She grabbed the fifty-thousand-dollar Rolex from the table. It was obvious who she was running to. But to me, it didn't matter anymore. 6. I went back to our bedroom and started packing. Since I worked from home, my wardrobe was incredibly simple. A few lounge sets and two or three casual outfits took up just a tiny corner of the walk-in closet. It took me less than five minutes to pack them all. Chloe said Julian had borrowed one of my shirts. But looking at my closet, not a single hanger was empty. I slowly zipped my suitcase, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. Julian probably thought my clothes were too cheap. He would rather wear a damp designer shirt than put on my "garbage." As I emptied the last drawer, my hand brushed against a suit bag at the very bottom. My body froze. I bought this custom suit for our second anniversary. Chloe always said she loved men in sharp suits. I’m not a bad-looking guy, so for our anniversary, I went to a high-end salon, got my hair styled, and put on the suit. Looking in the mirror, I felt confident. I was genuinely excited to see her reaction, thinking she would appreciate me dressing up to fit her standards. But she only met me with humiliation. "What a waste of a good suit," she had said, barely looking at me. "Justin, don't you think you look completely ridiculous trying to play dress-up? No offense, but you just can't pull it off." Even though a year had passed, remembering those words still felt like a rusty knife twisting in my chest. That suit had cost me three thousand dollars—a whole month's worth of illustration royalties at the time. I pulled the suit bag out of the closet and threw it straight into the trash can. I would never wear it again anyway. And I would never bend over backward to please someone who would never love me. 7. I dragged my suitcase out of the house. My parents had died in a plane crash when I was seventeen. They left me two properties and a decent inheritance. I used that money to get through college. After marrying Chloe, I moved into her luxury townhouse. People used to whisper behind my back, calling me a trophy husband or a gold-digger. But I didn't care about the rumors, nor did I care whose house we lived in. Having lost my parents at a young age, all I wanted was to be close to the woman I loved. But now I realized that my devotion was just a joke to her. I moved back to my own apartment and had a lawyer draft the divorce papers. Then, I couriered them directly to Chloe’s office. If I sent them to her house, she’d just throw them in the mail pile. But she’d definitely open them at her desk. Sure enough, the next afternoon, my phone rang. Chloe’s voice blasted through the speaker the second I answered. "Justin, are you kidding me? You're a grown man! Throwing a tantrum is one thing, but this is ridiculous!"