I Caught My Husband Saying I’m Less Attractive Than His Ex – His Lesson Was Unbelievable

Fresh from their honeymoon, Jane is eager to start her life as a newlywed. However, a secretly overheard conversation reveals her husband’s superficial nature. Faced with a choice, will Jane mold herself into his ideal or walk away?

Being Wayne’s girlfriend was one thing; being his wife proved entirely different.

Up to a year ago, I believed Wayne was my soulmate. We met shortly after he ended a damaging relationship.

“Are you certain you’re ready for this?” I questioned.

“Absolutely, Jane,” he assured me. “Nicole is history. I’m looking forward to settling down and being content.”

Initially, I feared being a rebound—a common occurrence. Yet, I thought, what did I have to lose?

Nearly two years of dating later, Wayne proposed.

“Let’s spend forever together, Jane,” he suggested.

Naturally, I agreed. Throughout our time together, Wayne convinced me I was more than just a rebound.

Returning from an idyllic honeymoon, full of joy and lifelong promises, everything seemed perfect until one typical day shattered the illusion.

Preparing to walk our dog, Bolt, I heard Wayne inviting me to greet his friends on a video call.

After a brief hello, I went to grab a raincoat as the sky threatened rain.

Laughter echoed from Wayne’s ongoing call as I quietly fetched my coat, avoiding notice.

Unbeknownst to me, that day would unravel our relationship.

“Dude, are you still fixated on Jane’s appearance?” joked one friend.

My heart raced.

What? I wondered.

Hoping it was a joke, I expected Wayne to defend me.

“She cooks better than Nicole and isn’t bothersome. She’s taking Bolt out, something Nicole would’ve made me do. But, it does feel like a downgrade,” Wayne admitted.

“What will you do?” another asked.

“I’d reconsider if Jane slimmed down a bit.”

Their laughter pierced the air.

I was in shock.

Wayne had always reassured me of his love, especially post-Nicole.

Yet there he was, disparaging me over a beer in the living room.

I left with Bolt, needing space from Wayne.

A personal turmoil ensued. I knew marriage was tough, given my strong personality, but this early trouble was unexpected.

Just three weeks into our marriage, Wayne was already comparing me to his ex, who had dumped him via text.

I could have ended it then and there. But that seemed too simple. I craved more.

Sleep eluded me as my mind raced.

“What should you do?” my mother asked the next day after hearing my story.

“I’m not sure,” I responded. “I think I want to hurt him.”

Ever since overhearing Wayne, I couldn’t bear my own reflection.

My appearance seemed off. I wanted to hide, feeling unattractive.

My mother offered tea and pie.

“Hurt him now?” she probed.

“I haven’t thought that far,” I admitted.

“Why not just divorce and move on? Isn’t this just a waste of time?” she questioned.

I felt like wasting time, yet I needed some form of revenge.

“What about the prenup?” she inquired.

“What?” I replied.

“Didn’t you both sign a prenup? What does that mean if you divorce now?”

I found the contract at home—it was clear. I just needed to endure a year to claim half of Wayne’s assets.

I could wait.

The following months saw me transform, not for him, but to reclaim my self-worth.

I joined a gym, improved my diet, and maintained my appearance, all the while Wayne assumed it was for him.

He kept buying me clothes and shoes, expecting me to model them, which I never did.

By our first anniversary, I epitomized the societal ideal Wayne admired.

I planned a large dinner with friends, setting the stage for my final reveal.

When I appeared in a new dress, the shock was evident, mirroring Wayne’s stunned admiration.

Amidst dinner and laughter, I announced, “I’m filing for divorce because I refuse to feel inferior again, to an ex or anyone else.”

Wayne’s face lost color as the room gasped.

“I transformed for myself after overhearing you compare me unfavorably. No one should change for shallow affection,” I declared.

Wayne’s apologies fell on deaf ears.

“Why wait a year?” his friend Ross inquired.

“Wayne, remember the prenup you insisted on? It compensates the ‘downgraded party’ in the first five years if initiated by dissatisfaction,” I explained.

The room fell silent as the gravity of my words sank in.

“I don’t want your money,” I continued softly, “but I will take enough to start anew.”

I resumed eating, planning to leave soon after dinner.

I had already secured an apartment, ready for my new chapter.

“Just like that?” Wayne asked days later as I packed.

“Yes, just like that,” I affirmed. “You began this. You doomed our marriage before it had a chance. I’m good now.”

“Do you really think I’m that superficial?” he asked.

I paused, looking for any genuine remorse, but found none.

And if there was any, it was simply too late.

What would you have done?