I thought I had married the love of my life when Wayne proposed. “Let’s make it forever, Jane,” he said, and I believed him. However, one day I overheard a conversation between Wayne and his friends that shattered this illusion. They were discussing my looks compared to his ex, Nicole. “At least she cooks better than Nicole,” Wayne said, but also added, “It does feel like a bit of a downgrade compared to Nicole.”

This conversation devastated me, but instead of confronting Wayne immediately, I confided in my mother. “What do you want to do?” she asked. I didn’t know, but I wanted revenge. Upon reviewing our prenuptial agreement, I realized that if I stayed married for a year, I would be entitled to half of Wayne’s assets.

Fueled by determination, I embarked on a journey of self-improvement. Wayne thought my transformation was for him, showering me with gifts. By our first anniversary, I had become the image of perfection Wayne admired. I organized a dinner with our friends, setting the stage for my revelation. “I’m filing for divorce because I don’t want to ever feel downgraded again,” I declared, exposing Wayne’s shallow comments.

Despite Wayne’s pleas, I stood firm. “Why did you wait a year?” a friend asked. “Because of the prenup,” I replied. I had already secured an apartment and was ready to move on. Wayne asked, “You really think I’m that shallow?” I realized it didn’t matter anymore. I packed my things, knowing I deserved better.