Three years after our wedding, my husband Caleb Reynolds forced me to accept an open marriage. He casually tossed out the idea, his voice light, almost joking. “I gave you the ring, the vows, all the commitments. But my body? That’s free. Don’t you want to live more excitingly this Christmas, see what else is out there?” He knew perfectly well I couldn’t do that. I have a condition—lactating despite never having children. It’s not something I can casually mention to strangers. Every time my breasts engorge, I’m miserable—not just embarrassed, but in pain. Without someone to relieve that pain, I completely fall apart. I flatly refused him. Caleb was unhappy. He stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. That night, the pain returned, sharp and merciless. My chest ached, I felt dizzy, barely able to think. Then I felt it—strong, warm hands, firmly placed on the soft curves of my waist. ***** Caleb’s palm struck my face hard, snapping my head to the side. The pain was hot and sharp, but I forced myself to look him in the eyes, tears welling up, stinging. “Caleb, I just want a normal marriage. Is that so wrong?” “Normal?” His gaze fell to my chest, his lips curling with contempt. “What’s normal about you?” As if on cue, my body betrayed me. A wet stain spread across my shirt, the rich scent of milk filling the air. I hurriedly covered my chest with my hands, my cheeks burning red, wishing I could disappear into the floor. “Why are you hiding it? You think I can’t tell you’re starting again?” Caleb’s sneer hit me like a punch to the stomach. He knew how shameful this was for me, this uninvited milk my deepest wound. His mother, Barbara Reynolds, spoke without hesitation, her voice full of venom. “If it weren’t for those wide hips of yours screaming ‘baby-maker,’ I would never have let Caleb marry you. Three years, and you can’t even produce a child.” She pointed at me, her words sharp. “Caleb is too good for you. We won’t let him waste his life being tied to you.” She grabbed his arm. “Come on, we’re going out to eat. I’ve arranged for you to meet several girls. You can pick one.” Caleb didn’t even look at me. He just followed her out, the door clicking shut behind him. I collapsed onto the floor, my heart as cold and hard as the tiles beneath me. It all started when I was barely out of my teens—milk leaking for no reason, no baby. Wherever I went, I could feel those stares, those whispers. I learned to wrap myself in layers, clothes upon clothes hiding my secret. When Caleb and I were dating, he discovered my secret by accident. His eyes lit up, not with disgust, but with something else—perhaps desire. “Serena,” he whispered, “I had no idea you were so… unique.” I curled against him in shame. “You don’t think I’m a freak?” He held me tight, so tight I could barely breathe. “A freak? This is a gift.” After that, he was obsessed with me. He showered me with affection, promised me the world. My body? He worshipped it, as if wanting to melt into me. But marriage changed him. As they say, people stop wanting what they have. My chest ached, not just from the memories, but from the pressure building inside. The milk was flowing faster now, soaking through my fingers. Panic rose in me. I stumbled to my feet, lurching into the bedroom, my heart racing wildly. In the past, when things got bad, Caleb would be there, helping relieve the pain. Now? I was alone, desperate. Trembling, I pulled out the small toy I kept hidden under my pillow, gritted my teeth, and positioned it, hoping to ease the pain. But it wasn’t enough. I felt my body’s heat growing even more intense, unbearable. I turned it to the highest setting, my body shaking until, exhausted, I passed out. In the haze between sleep and wakefulness, I felt hands—large and warm—sliding over my waist. The toy was yanked away, leaving emptiness and pain. “Caleb…” I murmured, pressing against his cool body. It slightly calmed the fire within me. He didn’t answer. His arm roughly pulled me closer, his breath hot against my chest, and he bit down, more roughly than ever before. It hurt, but God, I liked it. He was like a storm, releasing all his anger, working me over until dawn broke. When I woke up, Caleb was gone. The pain had disappeared too, leaving my mind clear, almost light. “Jerk,” I muttered, half-smiling. He was always like this—knocking me down, then bringing me back with moments like these. I climbed out of bed, cheeks flushed, picking up the scattered condoms from the floor and tossing them in the trash. I guess they’re right about arguments being the spark in a marriage. Last night, Caleb was… well, more than usual. Humming, I walked toward the kitchen to make him breakfast. But passing through the living room, I froze in my tracks. On the sofa sat three men, all strangers, each one completely different from the next, like day and night. I didn’t recognize any of them.
I looked around, searching for Caleb, but he was nowhere to be found. My stomach churned as uneasiness crept into my heart. The three men on the sofa stared at me in unison, their gazes heavy, as if I had wandered into a nest of vipers. I quickly tightened my robe, suddenly acutely aware of how thin the fabric was. This was probably just another batch of Caleb’s friends. He always loved bringing friends home without warning, making me play the dutiful hostess, running around like a maid. I cleared my throat and put on my well-practiced smile of a gentle wife. “Hey, can I get you—” Before I could finish, the front door was pushed open forcefully. Caleb strode in, his eyes narrowing when he saw me. He smoothly took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. “Serena, we have guests. Why are you wandering around practically naked?” My eyes caught the fresh scratch marks on his neck, and relief washed over me. Even though we had fought last night, he hadn’t left me alone. My heart softened, sweet as honey. I pulled his still-warm jacket tighter around me, my voice slightly teasing. “I thought it was just the two of us.” He simply pushed me toward the bedroom. “Go change into something decent.” I nodded, completely compliant, and slipped back to the bedroom to change. When I returned, the men were scattered on the sofa, drinking coffee and chatting like old friends. Caleb waved me over to sit beside him, directly facing the three men. He introduced them one by one, “Victor Harlan, a renowned lawyer. Samuel Trent, a doctor. And Leonard Finch—my college classmate I’ve mentioned before, he’s a professor.” I nodded politely in acknowledgment, remaining silent as they conversed. I mentally gave Caleb credit—these friends were clearly a cut above the rest. His previous friends were loud, filled the house with cigarette smoke, and bragged about things that never added up. These three seemed more sophisticated. I smiled to myself as I walked into the kitchen to prepare lunch. Just as I turned on the faucet, the door creaked open. Victor walked in uninvited. “Mr. Harlan, do you need something?” I asked, confused. He rolled up his sleeves, flashing a relaxed smile. “Can’t let you do all the work alone.” Before I could refuse, he took the vegetables from my hands and began washing them, his movements as practiced as if he owned the kitchen. He chopped with precision and confidence, like a professional chef. His controlling demeanor triggered a memory—last night, Caleb had been rough. After easing my pain, he wanted more, and when I begged him to stop, he pinned my legs down, each thrust harder than the last. My cries nearly shook the walls. I pleaded until he finally stopped… “Serena?” Victor’s voice pulled me back to reality, his hand waving in front of my face. I coughed, my cheeks burning as I stammered, “What is it?” “Your pot is about to burn.” I jumped, suddenly aware the stove was still on, and hurriedly poured oil into the pan. The oil sizzled, but I heard his soft laughter—gentle, almost intimate. My heart raced, and my face grew hotter. I shook my head, trying to focus on cooking, silently cursing myself for being so flustered. The men came in one by one to carry dishes to the table, with Caleb, as usual, sauntering in last and doing the least. Instead of apologizing, he grinned. “So, how do you think they’re doing?” I glared at him, annoyed at his laziness. “They’re great. Much better than you.” His laughter sent a chill down my spine, all teeth and no warmth. After lunch, the sky split open as torrential rain poured down. The weather forecast warned of thunderstorms for the next few hours. The men exchanged worried glances. Caleb, ever the king of the house, waved his hand dismissively. “The roads will be slippery. Serena, prepare the guest rooms. They’re staying tonight.”
I pressed my lips together, holding back a sigh. Caleb always put his friends before family. He knew perfectly well I was going through a sensitive period, when I’d rather hide away than deal with strangers. But my hints meant nothing to him. He patted the three men on their shoulders, grinning widely. “Order whatever you want, Serena will get fresh sheets ready for you.” I let out a small huff, resigned to playing the good wife role as I headed toward the guest room to prepare. The spare blankets were stacked on the top shelf, out of my reach. I climbed onto the bed, my legs slightly shaky—thanks to Caleb’s overzealous performance last night. I cursed under my breath, blaming him for my sore muscles. As I yanked down a blanket, my foot slipped. Before I could hit the floor, someone rushed in and caught me, strong arms steadying my body. Thinking it was Caleb, I complained without hesitation, “Oh, now you come to help? Were you waiting for me to break my neck?” After a moment of silence, a low chuckle came from behind me. “Hey, I’m helping now, aren’t I?” That wasn’t Caleb’s voice. I jerked back, my heart racing, to find Leonard standing there, grinning like a kid caught stealing cookies. I was mortified, realizing he’d heard every complaint. “I—I thought you were… I didn’t know it was you.” “Caleb, right? No worries, I don’t mind,” he laughed easily, waving away my embarrassment. His smile was bright and carefree, as if he never had a serious moment. It was hard to imagine him as a professor, lecturing in front of a class. I managed a terse “Good to know,” grabbing the blanket, eager to escape. My instincts told me we had nothing to talk about. But as I walked toward the guest room, I heard his footsteps following behind me. I gave him a questioning look. He shrugged. “They’re playing poker in the living room, getting pretty intense. I’m not much of a card shark. Thought I’d help you out.” I glanced toward the living room, seeing Caleb pulling out his worn limited-edition deck, laughing with Victor and Samuel like they were storming a battlefield. Irritation churned in my stomach, but with Leonard right there, I swallowed my anger to avoid embarrassing Caleb. Leonard proved surprisingly competent, focusing on making the bed with an attention to detail I hadn’t expected from him. He talked like a slacker but worked meticulously. I couldn’t help comparing him to Caleb and blurted out, “If Caleb were half as considerate as you, my life would be so much easier.” Without missing a beat, he responded, “Well, maybe you should trade him in for me then.” My eyes widened, and I laughed nervously. “Don’t joke like that. I’m Caleb’s wife.” I took it as a joke. I thought, “This must be guy humor, right? Friends don’t steal each other’s partners, and we just met. He can’t possibly be serious.” But as I busied myself with the sheets, I could feel his gaze, heavy and warm, drilling into my back. It didn’t feel like a joke. I froze, mumbled an excuse, and fled the room. I cornered Caleb in the bathroom, whispering, “You and Leonard—are you close?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why the sudden interest?” I hesitated, then forced myself to say, “He… he’s making passes at me!” Caleb burst out laughing, loud and unconcerned. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “That’s a good thing,” he continued laughing. “Means you’re attractive.” His nonchalance stung. No jealousy, no concern—just that dismissive shrug. I suddenly remembered his advocacy for open marriage, and my heart sank. Of course he didn’t care. A guy like him who fooled around probably hoped I would too. Why would he worry about me cheating? Angry, I pushed him out of the bathroom. “Fine! Keep laughing and see how I make a joke out of you!” I collapsed onto the toilet, my thoughts in chaos. My body, the traitor, began responding to the emotional turmoil again. A soft moan escaped before I could stop it. “Caleb…” I bit my lip, hating how much I needed him. That’s why he had control over me—he always knew how to make me come back. The pain in my chest intensified, my shirt already soaked through. I couldn’t face him like this. I stripped off my clothes and turned the shower to cold, hoping the icy water would extinguish the heat inside me. It didn’t work. In desperation, I began touching myself, letting out a cry I was sure would be covered by the rain and water noise. No one would hear. Lost in the haze, I didn’t notice until a warm, solid body pressed against me from behind. I screamed, lunging forward, but the figure behind me held me tight, keeping me firmly in place. His rough hands made me tremble all over. No one else could touch me like that—it had to be Caleb. Still stinging from his earlier coldness, I muttered, “Stay away from me…” But my body had other ideas, leaning into him as if craving his warmth. He didn’t respond to my half-hearted protest, just brushed his lips against the back of my neck, igniting a heat that made my knees weak. If he hadn’t held me up, I would have collapsed to the floor. Perhaps because of our earlier argument, he was different tonight—gentle, almost careful. Each touch was light and teasing, but not enough to extinguish the fire raging inside me. I turned impatiently to face him. “Caleb, what’s going on? Can you just—” He gripped my chin, preventing me from seeing his face. I let out an impatient huff. “Caleb, stop playing games. Hurry up.” His hand froze. A cool chuckle brushed against my ear, then his kiss came like a storm, fierce and unyielding. The water had turned warm, and I couldn’t tell if the flush on my cheeks was from the steam or his touch. The pain in my chest subsided, replaced by a bone-deep satisfaction, even as my back pressed hard against the tiles. Exhausted, I collapsed into his arms. He carried me out of the bathroom, and I curled against him, suddenly shy knowing his friends were still in the house. Back in the bedroom, I dove under the covers like a nervous teenager, my cheeks burning. His low laughter filtered through the blanket, and I felt him kiss my forehead before quietly leaving. I peeked out; the rain outside was still tapping against the windows, but my heart felt lighter than it had in days. I drifted into a satisfied sleep. A clap of thunder jolted me awake. I reached for Caleb, but the bed was cold—he hadn’t returned. “What’s wrong?” his voice came from across the room, and I sighed with relief, turning to answer. But there he was, lounging casually in the armchair, phone pressed to his ear. He chuckled softly, warm and intimate. “Want me to come over and keep you company? Hmm?” My heart stopped, a jagged crack splitting it open. Whatever the person on the other end said made the corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. He whispered a few sweet nothings, then said, “Wait for me, I’m on my way.” He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door without hesitation. I couldn’t help calling out, “Caleb!” He didn’t even pause, just walked straight out. The door clicked shut, followed by a deafening thunderclap, as if the sky itself was mocking me. Tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. Seven years together—our first love, our everything. He used to love my quirks, my differences. Now he despised them. I’d been blaming myself, wondering if I should have given in to his ridiculous open marriage proposal. But now I understood. He had someone else, someone he’d drop everything for at just a phone call. His so-called “freedom” was just an excuse for his unfaithful heart. What had these seven years meant? A joke? The passionate days we’d just shared only made me feel more like a fool. I cried until my chest ached, until I could barely breathe, until sleep dragged me under once more. I didn’t hear the door open, but someone was there, their weight pressing down on me. Hands roughly grabbed my chest, making me wince. A small gasp escaped me, and the touch immediately softened. Fingers lifted my chin, and a possessive kiss stole my breath, making me dizzy until I forgot to resist. Then lightning split the sky, the white flash jolting me awake. Caleb—he had left. So who was this? I forced my eyes open, staring at the person above me, head lowered, still moving. My breath caught as my eyes widened in shock.
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