Chapter 5
I stood behind the door, hands trembling, breath held. Through the narrow crack of the half–open door, I saw my husband leaning down and pressing his lips against Bianca’s.
His hand was on her waist, fingers curling like he was trying to carve her into his skin. Her breathing was uneven, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, as though she’d waited years for that moment.
“Troy…” She whispered his name over and over, and the way he responded–low, rough, tender–was something I had never heard before.
It was the kind of softness he never gave me. I don’t know how long I stood there, frozen, until he slowly pulled back, brushing a finger across the corner of her lips, wiping away the moisture so gently I almost forgot how to breathe.
Then he reached into his pocket. I watched him pull out the necklace Bianca had given him years ago. The one he claimed to have lost.
He wore it again. Just like that. And in that second, he was no longer my husband. He was
hers.
I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palm, the sharp sting of pain the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
I turned away, careful not to make a sound, and shut the bedroom door behind me.
I dove under the covers, burying my face into the pillow, trying to block out the sound of his footsteps fading down the hallway. I closed my eyes. But my mind betrayed me, dragging me back to every single moment I tried to make him look at me.
The time I accidentally walked into his office late at night wearing the silk robe he once complimented, pretending to search for a file, he didn’t even glance up from his papers. The time I offered to help him dry off after his workout, only for him to take the towel, shut the door, and leave me standing there. The time I came home drunk from a gala, throwing myself into his arms and he caught me, only to set me upright with the same cold hand he used to adjust his tie.
He was always composed. Always distant. But now, with just one whisper from her lips, he broke every rule he made me follow.
Tears rolled down my face. I wiped them away quickly. It didn’t matter.
He didn’t want me. He wanted her.
The next morning, they were already in the dining area when I came down. Bianca touched her lips, pouting. “Troy, do you have mosquitoes here? My lips feel so swollen today…”
Troy paused, not even blinking. “I’ll ask the staff to bring you ointment,” he replied, his voice calm.
I walked over and saw a box waiting for me on the table. I opened it.
A necklace. Rare. Expensive. Worth more than most people’s yearly salary.
I scoffed. “You’re feeling generous lately.”
Chapter 4
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Bianca leaned over to peek. Her voice dripped with sugar and jealousy. “Wow, Troy… You treat your wife like this every day? I always thought you were too serious to bother with romance. Guess I was wrong.”
I looked up to meet his eyes. But he just leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee, saying nothing. He didn’t even try to explain that the gift was meant to compensate for Bianca injuring me last week. He didn’t care.
He stood, buttoning his coat. “I’m heading to the office.” Then, turning to Bianca. “Don’t wander around too much. You can go anywhere in the house. Just don’t go into my study.”
Bianca frowned. “Why not?”
He gave her some bland excuse, but I knew better. That room held everything he never wanted me to see.
After breakfast, I locked myself in my room. I didn’t want to hear her voice, didn’t want to see her smile, didn’t want to feel that bitter acid crawling up my throat every time she looked at me like I was the extra in their love story.
But when I woke up from my nap…
I noticed it.
My hair. My long, dark hair. Chopped. Uneven. Mangled like some child had used safety scissors to destroy it.
I stumbled out into the living room, heart pounding in disbelief only to find Bianca sitting on the couch, humming, fingers braiding strands of my hair into a twisted little piece of art.
My hair.
She looked up and smiled like it was nothing. “Oh, you’re awake. I needed material for a craft project. The school asked us to make something personal. Thought I’d make a wig.”
She lifted the braid like a trophy. “Your/hair’s really nice, you know? Dark, smooth, super soft. Jealous.”
My body moved on instinct.
I raised my hand and slapped her.
22:08 Sat, 24 May
