Aria Sinclair​

I got my diagnosis the same day his ex walked out of our bathroom in his bathrobe.
For three years, I wasn’t a wife. I was a placeholder.
With my time running out, something in me finally broke—clean and final.
I won’t spend what’s left dying for a man who never chose me.
This time, I choose myself.

After years of marriage, I hid my true identity to live as the most ordinary housewife.
But my husband abandoned me for my half-sister.
I tossed the divorce papers at him, and that very night, I hit up a bar and ordered eight male escorts.
When I spotted my husband, I slapped his face with a defiant smirk. "You're just a washed-up old man—I deserve way better!"

I watched my husband dote on his pregnant mistress while the doctor told me I had three months left to live.
For ten years, I lived like a ghost in his mansion—paying his bills, enduring his lies, carrying a marriage he never valued. He assumes I’ll never leave because he’s footing the cost of my mother’s cancer treatment.
He’s right. I do need the money.
But I refuse to spend the rest of my life watching him love another woman.
The divorce papers are on the table. And this time, I’m not pleading.
I’m choosing myself.

After years of marriage, on the day I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, my husband and another woman's names spread across the entire city.
And I was just his wife who couldn't be seen in public.
When I saw them appear together as a couple once more, I couldn't take it anymore.
I want a divorce. From now on, I'm spending whatever time I have left on myself.

I watched helplessly as my husband doted on his mistress and their child, while my own child was abused by a psychiatrist.
For years, I gave up my career, held the household together, endured his lies, and kept alive a marriage he had never truly valued.
He thought I would never leave, because once, I had loved him that deeply.
But I could not spend the rest of my life watching him fall in love with another woman.
The divorce papers are already on the table. This time, I won’t beg him to stay.
I choose myself.

At the press conference celebrating his miraculous recovery, my husband announced—right in front of cameras—that he wanted a divorce.
He chose today. The day he finally woke up after three years in a coma. The day my younger sister returned to the country.
I walked away from everything and decided to return to the field that had once been mine.
But someone please tell me—why does my ex-husband keep showing up everywhere I go, like a ghost that refuses to let go?

After years of marriage, my husband and son never once treated me like I mattered.
In their eyes, there was only another woman.
When I heard them talking about abandoning me again, I finally hit my limit.
So I asked for a divorce.
From that day on, I lived for myself—and myself alone.

As a housewife, I was constantly put down by my husband and daughter, who joined forces just to win another woman’s favor.
I couldn’t stand watching myself sink any further, so I asked for a divorce.
What they never saw coming was that I would rise and become a dazzling new star on the stage.

After years of marriage, my husband and son never once treated me like I mattered.
In their eyes, there was only another woman.
When I heard them talking about abandoning me again, I finally hit my limit.
So I asked for a divorce.
From that day on, I lived for myself—and myself alone.

On the day my son died, I saw my husband out playing with his mistress and her child.
They carelessly destroyed my child's belongings and took over my home.
They even suspected I was lying, treating his death as a joke.
Only when I revealed I had just three months to live did my husband's remorse finally arrive.
But it was too late. I would personally take back everything that belonged to me!