Standing Ovation, Broken Vows

I was promoted to principal dancer at the New York City Ballet. While I stood on stage basking in flowers and thunderous applause, my husband was in a hotel room passionately having sex with his personal assistant. A few months later, his assistant got pregnant. He brought her home and moved her straight into our guest room. Taking my hand, my husband said: "You always said you wanted to keep your dancer's figure and didn't want kids, so I solved that problem for you. Marie is carrying our baby. Once she gives birth, she'll leave, and the three of us will go on living happily together." I slapped him across the face. "You disgust me. Take your mistress and get the hell out of my house." After the final curtain call for "Giselle", I stood backstage watching the audience filter out in an orderly fashion. Even though I had prepared myself mentally, not seeing Jordan in the crowd still left a hollow ache in my chest. My roles were growing bigger and more demanding, yet the number of times he came to see me perform dwindled with every passing season. "Alright everyone, gather round!" Director Miller stood in the center of the stage, clapping her hands to call the company together. We formed a circle around her. "First off, congratulations on tonight’s performance. The dedication, sweat, and soul each of you poured into this production shone through brilliantly. Truly magnificent work!" The stage erupted in applause. "Now, I have wonderful news to share with the entire company. On behalf of the New York City Ballet, I am proud to officially announce our newest principal dancer!" Meeting Director Miller’s warm, affectionate gaze, my mind went blank for a second. She extended her open palm toward me. "Joy Reynolds." Shock morphed into dizzying euphoria. All those years of relentless sweat, bleeding toes, and raw passion had finally borne fruit. Tears spilled down my cheeks uncontrollably. A sweet, overwhelming warmth flooded my chest. I had finally done it. If only Jordan were here. I wanted so badly to throw my arms around him, to let him share in the crowning glory of my life. I drove home with an ecstatic heart, only to find the house dark and eerily quiet, lit by just a tiny lamp in the foyer. Just as I pulled out my phone to call Jordan, my mother-in-law, Martha, emerged from her bedroom. "Oh, our grand ballerina is finally back, huh?" Seeing the bouquet of roses in my arms, her scowl deepened. "Who’s giving you flowers in the middle of the night? Let me tell you something, Joy—all that rubbing up against other men, grabbing and touching during your dances is sickening enough. If you ever dare cheat on my son, I won't let you off easy." Every ounce of joy vanished in an instant. "Mom, after tonight's show, the artistic director officially promoted me to principal dancer. That’s what the flowers are for," I explained, holding back my exasperation. "Hmph. You’d better not have any other ideas," she scoffed coldly. "Go into the kitchen and drink the herbal brew I made you. You two have been married for nearly five years now, and not a single sign of a baby bump. I’ve cooked you so many tonics, yet you haven’t gained a single pound. Look at you—skinny as a rake! How on earth are you supposed to carry a baby?" "Mom, my career is at a critical turning point right now. I can’t have children at this moment." I set the bouquet down on the living room table with a weary sigh. "What career? How much money does that little dancing gig of yours even bring in? Instead of wasting your energy there, why aren't you focusing on taking care of this home and giving our family a healthy baby boy? What kind of wife stays away from home day and night like you do? I’m saying this for your own good—once a woman gets older, having children is nothing but trouble." "Mom, plenty of women have children in their thirties. Besides, modern medicine is advanced; there’s always IVF if needed. I never said I would never have children—I just want to wait a bit." "If you’re going to have them anyway, why can’t you do it right now?! Why do you have to wait until you're in your thirties?!" she demanded loudly. "Mom, as a professional ballet dancer, the demands on my body and weight are extremely strict." "I don't have the luxury or confidence right now to handle the physical consequences pregnancy brings. I’ve danced for well over a decade. Dance is an inseparable part of who I am." "Stop it! Stop making excuses! At the end of the day, you’re just too selfish to have a child. Joy, how can you be so self-centered?" I pressed my lips together and swallowed the urge to argue further.She was right about one thing: I was selfish. I loved dancing. I had my own burning ambitions and unyielding drive. I wanted to become a master in the ballet world; I wanted to stand at the absolute summit of that stage. "Go drink that brew. I went out of my way back to my hometown just to get that fertility recipe for you. If Jordan hadn't insisted on marrying you back then, why would I be stuck here catering to your whims? God only knows what spell you put on him." Rolling her eyes dramatically, she turned on her heel and slammed her bedroom door shut. "Thank you, Mom. Thank you for your trouble," I called out submissively as I headed to the kitchen, desperate to avoid another fight. The bitter, foul-smelling herbal concoction hit my stomach like liquid lead, sending violent spasms through my gut. I dry-heaved over the sink until tears streamed down my face. An overwhelming wave of grievance washed over me. All I wanted in that moment was for Jordan to hold me tight. I checked my phone; it was almost eleven at night. I dialed his number. After three or four rings, the line connected. "Jordan?" A sweet, lilting female voice answered instead. "Hello~ Mr. Hayes is occupied right now and can't come to the phone~" "Who are you?" "I'm his personal assistant, Marie. May I ask what this is regarding?" "I'm his wife. I'm calling to ask when he's coming home." "Oh! Let me check for you." Through the receiver, I heard the faint rushing sound of a shower in the distance, followed by knocking, and then that cloying, sugary voice: "Boss~ Your wife is asking what time you'll be home." The line shifted, and Jordan's voice came through. "Hey, baby. I just finished dinner with some clients and had a bit too much to drink. Ended up throwing up on my shirt, so I’m just taking a quick shower at the hotel. I’ll be home soon, wait up for me, okay?" A knot loosened in my chest. "Send me your location. I’ll drive over and pick you up." "No need, sweetie. My assistant already called an Uber for me. Go get some rest—you had a big show tonight, you must be exhausted." "Okay... Drive safe. I'll be waiting for you." Hanging up, I took a shower and sat propped up in bed, waiting for Jordan to come home. Jordan and I met at a college mixer. Back then, he was gentle, articulate, and effortlessly charming. His pursuit was never flashy or over-the-top, but rather a quiet, persistent stream of devotion that gently wore away my defenses until I fell completely for him. When I had early morning ballet drills, he would wake up at dawn, buy my favorite breakfast, and take a detour to my studio just to hand it to me before rushing to his own lectures. At night, when I stayed behind to practice alone, he would quietly sit in the corner of the studio, recording practice videos on his phone and going through them with me frame by frame to see where my form faltered. Whenever my legs were battered and bruised from rehearsals, he would tenderly massage ointment into my skin. When a harsh instructor brought me to tears, he’d clown around just to make me smile, swearing I was his fairy, the brightest star meant to shine on every stage. After graduation, when I was accepted into the city company, he was right there beside me. When the acceptance letter arrived, he lifted me high into the air, spinning me around. "I knew it! My Joy is the most talented fairy in the world!" We naturally tied the knot as soon as we were ready. He told me I was his treasure and that he wanted to seal our bond with a marriage certificate so he could focus on building his business without fear of losing me. Back then, we reached a clear consensus: no children for the foreseeable future. He used to say: "A dancer’s golden years are far too short. My Joy belongs on stage, blooming in all her glory. Just having you as my wife is more than enough for me. You’re meant to be a world-renowned ballerina, and I will never hold you back!" I truly believed that besides my own parents, no one in this world could ever love me more deeply than Jordan. Dating is about two people, but marriage involves two families. His father passed away when Jordan was young, leaving his mother to raise him on her own. Jordan was undeniably driven. Catching the wave of the tech boom, he took a tiny independent startup and expanded it into a firm of over a hundred employees in just four years. He often reminded me of how much his mother had sacrificed for him. Empathizing with her struggles, I did everything in my power to be a dutiful, considerate daughter-in-law. Yet, the issue of having a baby remained a jagged chasm between Martha and me. "I know it's hard on you, baby. My mom is old-fashioned, and having a grandchild means everything to her. Don't worry, I'll handle it. You just focus on doing what you love," Jordan would soothe me every time I felt wronged. "He loves me," I told myself over and over.A cool pair of arms wrapped around me, snapping me out of my thoughts. Jordan buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. "What are you daydreaming about so intensely, my beautiful Joy?" I ran my fingers through his hair. He pulled me closer into his embrace, pressing dense, breathless kisses down on my lips and neck. In the hazy haze of passion, my nose caught the faintest trace of an unfamiliar perfume. Afterward, he held me close, gently patting my back to lull me to sleep. "Jordan... I was made principal dancer tonight." "Mm..." he mumbled groggily against my shoulder, offering nothing more. I didn't say another word, letting sleep claim me. The next morning over breakfast, Jordan noticed the bouquet sitting on the living room table. After a night without water, the petals had wilted slightly. "Did a fan send you flowers?" A jealous edge crept into his tone. "The company gave them to me. After the curtain came down last night, Director Miller officially announced my promotion to principal." "You made principal dancer?! I knew it! My Joy is simply the best!" He swept me up in a bear hug, planting a loud, sloppy kiss on my cheek, grinning like a massive, overgrown puppy. I gave him a playful, sidelong glare and patted his hand where it rested on my waist. "Finish your breakfast." Martha slammed her forks onto the table with a sharp clatter. "Can we eat a proper meal in peace, or are you two going to disgust me with this mushy nonsense at the table?" Jordan smiled and placed a fried egg on her plate. "Mom, Joy just achieved something huge! Your daughter-in-law is a principal dancer now—the very top tier!" He gave a huge thumbs up. "I'm so proud of her, I can hardly sit still. Let's go out for a celebratory dinner tonight." Saying this, he reached across the table to hold my hand. The warmth and affection in his eyes seemed undeniably genuine. "Hmph. The only thing that would make me happy is if your wife gave me a chubby grandson," Martha grumbled sourly. "Mom, come on, eat your food." After breakfast, Martha went out to play cards with her friends. Jordan cuddled with me on the sofa, watching TV while browsing restaurants on his phone to make a reservation. "Buzz. Buzz. Buzz." His phone vibrated. I glanced casually at the screen. The caller ID read: "Marie". His assistant. "I'm so sorry, Joy. Something urgent just blew up at the office. Can we push our dinner to tomorrow?" His face darkened immediately after hanging up. "It’s Saturday," I said, watching him hastily throw on his jacket. "You have to go into the office on a weekend?" "That's the burden of being the boss. A founder never truly gets a weekend off. Go to sleep early tonight, don't wait up for me." With that, he leaned down, pressed a kiss to my cheek, grabbed his car keys and phone, and rushed out the door. The apartment fell utterly silent, feeling oddly hollow. I pulled out my phone and messaged my best friend, Lexi, sharing the news of my promotion on SnapChat. [Well, well! Principal Dancer Joy, you definitely owe me a fancy dinner for this!] [Why wait? Let's do it today.] [Wait, isn't it Saturday? Your clingy husband actually let you off his leash?] Lexi teased. [He had an emergency at work. Overtime.] [No wonder! Get dressed and come out. It’s rare enough that he isn't glued to your side.] My cheeks warmed slightly. With my exhausting schedule of daily rehearsals and frequent tours, Jordan usually smothered me with affection whenever I had a day off. [Where are we eating?] Lexi asked. [How about The Glass House? Jordan was just about to book a table there before he had to leave.] [Deal! All hail Principal Dancer Reynolds!] I didn't have The Glass House’s reservation line, so I decided to drive over early and put our names on the walk-in waitlist. After finding a parking spot in a remote corner of the underground garage, I was just about to unbuckle my seatbelt when a familiar figure stepped out of an SUV parked diagonally across from me. It was Jordan. Before I could even wonder why he was here instead of working overtime at his office, the passenger door swung open. A young woman stepped out. She walked right up to him, looped her arms tightly around his neck, and pulled him down into a passionate, breathless kiss right in front of the car. I stared in absolute, paralyzing disbelief. The very man who, only hours ago, had showered me with love and promises was now wrapped around another woman in a dim parking garage, kissing her with unrestrained hunger. All the blood in my body rushed backward. My heart seized violently, and a sharp cramp tore through my stomach, making me gag. With trembling fingers, I raised my phone and hit record. The agony in my gut forced me to curl forward, gasping for air, desperately trying to swallow down the suffocation crushing my lungs. When I finally managed to straighten my spine, I felt as if a part of me had died right there. My limbs were completely drained of strength; even the simple act of breathing sent stabbing pains radiating through my chest. I sat in the driver's seat, numb and entirely lost. My phone chimed—Lexi's incoming call. "Hey, I'm almost there. Where are you parked?" "Lexi..." My voice was barely a whisper. "I'm down in the underground garage... Can you please come get me?"Curled up on the couch in Lexi’s apartment, I sipped the hot takeout soup she handed me, which gradually eased the violent cramping in my stomach. "So much for treating me to a fancy dinner. We ended up back at my place eating takeout soup," Lexi teased, shaking her head. I didn't answer. I just stared blankly into the cup, taking small, silent sips. "What happened to you?" Lexi’s tone grew concerned. "Making principal is an incredible milestone. Why do you look like your soul’s been sucked out?" She leaned in, searching my face. "Did someone hurt you? Joy, tell me who messed with you and I'll go beat their ass. Don't be like this, you're scaring me." I set the soup down on the coffee table. The dam broke, and I collapsed into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. When my tears finally ran dry, my throat was so swollen and hoarse I couldn't string together a single coherent sentence. All I could do was unlock my phone and play the shaky video of them kissing in the garage, handing it over to Lexi. The footage was erratic, but anyone who knew Jordan could instantly tell it was him. "Holy fucking shit! That piece of garbage dared to cheat on you?!" Lexi completely exploded, springing up from the sofa. "I am going to break his damn neck!" She paced the living room, fuming. "You really never can judge a book by its cover! I actually thought he was one of the good ones—turns out he’s just another sleazebag! We shouldn't have driven back here. We should have marched right into that restaurant, caught them red-handed, and exposed those shameless bastards to the entire world!" I only shook my head weakly. "Hey..." Sitting back down, she gently rubbed my back. "What are you planning to do? Once a cheater, always a cheater. You know I have zero tolerance for this kind of bullshit." "If you want to cut ties with this scumbag, just say the word. I’ll make sure that two-timing asshole and his side piece pay dearly for this!" Lexi’s knuckles popped as she clenched her fists. "Why, Lexi? Nine whole years..." I choked out, tears burning my eyes again. "Why did he do this? If he stopped loving me, why didn't he just tell me? I wouldn't have clung to him... Why did he have to do it like this? Why...?" "Lexi, my heart hurts so badly... My stomach, my head... My whole body feels broken." Muffled by exhaustion and grief, I eventually drifted into a restless sleep. The following morning, loud voices woke me up. With swollen, stinging eyes and a heavy head, I stumbled out of the bedroom. Jordan was sitting on Lexi’s sofa, wearing the exact same clothes from yesterday, looking disheveled and miserable while taking the brunt of Lexi's fiery rage. The moment he saw me, he shot to his feet and moved to support me. Lexi planted herself firmly between us. "Stay the hell away from her, you piece of trash." "Joy... I..." I looked at him. His eyes were wide with desperate guilt and anxiety. "I... When I got home last night, you weren't there. You didn't answer your phone. I was worried sick about you." "Wipe that hypocritical look off your face. Who do you think you're fooling this early in the morning?" Lexi sneered with utter disgust. "I saw everything. In the parking garage at The Glass House," I said quietly, looking straight into his eyes. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?" "I... I can explain! Can we please just go home first, Joy?" He reached out, trying to grab my hand. "Go home for what? Say whatever you have to say right here!" Lexi slapped his hand away and pulled me behind her. "I'd love to hear what pathetic excuse you have for cheating on your wife!" "This is between my wife and me. I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of it," Jordan snapped, his temper flaring. Before Lexi could unleash another tirade, I gently squeezed her arm. "I'll go back with him. We need to settle this between the two of us." "Fine," Lexi said, glaring daggers at Jordan. "Call me if you need anything. If he dares to pull anything on you, I will kick down your front door and drag you out myself." I gave her a tight hug. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you." Once we stepped inside our apartment and shut the front door, Jordan dropped straight to his knees before me. "Joy, I was wrong. I swear to God I was wrong! Hit me, scream at me, do whatever you want—just please, don't leave me!" "Why?" I looked down at him, tears threatening to spill once again. "It was an accident at first! I got completely wasted at a business dinner, and she took me back to a hotel... Joy, I swear on my life, it was an accident!" He gripped my hands tightly, his eyes pleading for me to believe his lies. "Jordan," I whispered, my voice raw and rasping from crying all night. "A man who's truly dead drunk can't even get it up."