_cleanup.jpg "Shocking moment as two men trade their wives like commodities.")
Bob stood on the bustling city sidewalk, gripping Vanessa's shoulders. Around her neck, a crude cardboard sign read: "Wife for Sale."
She trembled, but he ignored it.
"Bob, this isn't funny," she whispered, eyes darting at the gawking strangers.
"It'll be fun," Bob grinned. "Maybe someone will offer me something better."
A chuckle from behind made Bob turn. A man, tall and scruffy, leaned forward, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Beside him, a timid woman clutched her coat.
"I ain't got cash, but I got a wife," the man offered, nodding toward the woman. "Trade?"
Bob studied her—younger, softer, exotic. A quick glance at Vanessa: her teary eyes, the hurt creased into her face. Boring.
He laughed. "Deal."
The women exchanged a stunned look as the men shook hands, sealing their twisted agreement.
That night, Bob marveled at his new wife. She was stunning, poised. Yet, something gnawed at him.
Vanessa always left a cup of tea on his nightstand.
Vanessa always knew how to fold his shirts just right.
Vanessa always smelled like home.
With an unexpected pang in his chest, Bob bolted upright. What had he done?
Morning couldn't come fast enough. He stormed back to the street, searching for the man, for Vanessa. When he found them, his heart plummeted.
She looked... happy. Dressed differently, glowing with newfound confidence.
"Vanessa," he panted. "Come home."
Her expression hardened. "Home? You mean back to being undervalued? Passed around like an old shirt? No thanks."
Bob swallowed. "I made a mistake. I miss you."
She smiled, but it wasn’t the smile he knew. "Bob, I didn't lose anything that day. I gained self-respect. You lost me."
And with that, she turned, walking away without a second glance.
Sometimes, we only see someone’s true value when they’re gone.
#LoveLost #Betrayal #KnowTheirWorth
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