My husband is a star personal trainer at the gym. He’s got a great body and tons of female clients. I was scrolling through TikTok when I came across a video titled “Immersive Personal Training Session.” “I met this incredible trainer who doesn’t just teach me how to build a peachy butt—he teaches me how to use it too.” The caption was obscenely explicit: “He says his wife at home is too conservative. She won’t even wear yoga pants. But me in my sweat-soaked workout gear? That’s what drives him wild.” “Every stretching session, he stretches me to the depths of my soul. Says my flexibility is ten thousand times better than his wife’s.” Someone in the comments asked: “Is the trainer single?” Her reply: “Married, but he told me—marriage is responsibility. I’m his pleasure.” “Just now his wife checked up on him. He sent her a voice message saying he was training a client’s legs, while he was still going at it with me. So bad~” At the end of the video, the camera swept across the man’s calf. There was a vicious scar there—a badge of honor from last year when he saved me from nearly being hit by a car. And right now, that leg was propped up on the woman’s shoulder.
The light from my phone screen stabbed at my eyes. On the screen, a woman in tight yoga clothes was sprawled on a yoga mat. A pair of large hands pressed down on her perky buttocks. “Coach, please be gentle~” The woman’s voice dripped with seduction. “Can’t handle it already?” The man’s voice was low and laced with laughter, carrying notes of flirtation and wild desire. It was Derek Chase. The same Derek who blushed at saying anything harsh to me, who came home every day only to complain about being tired. I stared at the top comment’s reply beneath the video. [Married, but he told me—marriage is responsibility. I’m his pleasure.] I clicked into the woman’s profile. Her pinned video had this caption: [I’m pouting, he’s smiling. This is what love looks like at its best.] In the video, Derek was doing push-ups with her on his back. With each push-up, she leaned down and kissed his neck. Derek’s face was full of adoration. The video was posted yesterday at 9 PM. At that exact time, I’d been writhing in bed with acute gastroenteritis, calling him in agony. He’d said: “Mara, I’m with a private training client. This student is really important—yearly membership, big spender. I can’t leave. Just drink some hot water, okay? Be good.” So this was the truth. My stomach churned violently. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up until I was dizzy. The door lock clicked. Derek was home. He walked into the bedroom carrying the winter chill and the scent of body wash. Not the brand we used at home. It was a sickeningly sweet peach scent. “Mara, why are you still up?” He walked over, trying to hug me like always. I instinctively turned away. His hand froze mid-air. He frowned, then quickly switched to a concerned expression. “What’s wrong? Still mad about yesterday? I told you, that was for work. To earn money for our family.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to feel my forehead. I looked down at his calf. His pant leg had ridden up slightly, revealing that winding scar. It was from last year when an out-of-control electric scooter came rushing at me, and he threw himself in front of me without hesitation. Back then he’d said: “Mara, as long as you’re okay, losing a leg would be worth it.” At that moment, I’d sworn to love him forever. But now, that scar was like a mocking mouth, silently ridiculing my stupidity. “Derek,” my voice came out hoarse. “Why do you smell like peaches?” His expression flickered, gone in an instant. “Oh, the gym switched to new body wash. The scent is pretty strong. If you don’t like it, I’ll shower again when I get home next time.” His answer was airtight. “That big client yesterday—male or female?” I stared into his eyes. Derek sighed, his tone tinged with impatience. “Mara, are you interrogating me again? Of course it’s a guy. What female client would have the stamina to train that late?” “Really?” I pulled out my phone and held it in front of his face. “Then who’s this woman? And whose scar is this on that leg?” The video played. The woman’s breathy moans echoed through the quiet bedroom. Derek’s pupils dilated. He snatched my phone away, his fingers flying across the screen. “Mara! Can you stop being so paranoid and watching this garbage all day?” He looked at me, his face full of wronged fury. “This is for marketing! To sell training packages! Do you have any idea how competitive the gym industry is? Without these provocative gimmicks, who’s going to buy packages?” “This is all scripted! It’s staged!” “Staged?” “Staging requires you to go to bed with her? Staging requires you to say I’m responsibility and she’s pleasure?” Derek froze for a second, then flew into an embarrassed rage. “That’s just copywriting! Do you understand internet marketing? Mara, I bust my ass out there every day—for who? And here you are, not only showing no appreciation, but attacking me over this nonsense!” He got more worked up as he spoke. “If you don’t trust me this much, there’s no point in staying together!” With that, he grabbed his pillow, slammed the door viciously, and went to the guest room.
I lay awake with my eyes open until dawn. The next morning, while I was still washing up, my phone buzzed. A friend request on SnapChat. Username: “Ivy.” Verification message: [Hi there, I’m Coach Derek’s student. I wanted to explain things to you.] I accepted. The next second, a photo came through. A man’s hand resting on a woman’s thigh. The hand wore a wedding ring. [Ivy: Girl, you really don’t get it. Men work hard out there. When they come home and still have to deal with your attitude, who wouldn’t feel suffocated?] [Ivy: Derek says you have zero sense of romance. You won’t even let him rip off your yoga pants. So boring.] My hand trembled as I held the phone. [Ivy: If I were you, I’d gracefully step aside. After all, Derek’s happiness now comes from me.] Naked provocation. I screenshotted everything and was about to reply when Derek emerged from the guest room. He’d changed into tight workout clothes, his hair slicked back. “Mara, I’m skipping breakfast. Got an early class.” He acted like nothing had happened, completely forgetting last night’s fight. “Derek.” I held up my phone, showing Ivy’s photos on the screen. Derek’s expression changed. He strode over and grabbed my wrist. “She contacted you? That crazy girl!” After seeing the chat history, instead of showing guilt, he actually looked relieved. “Mara, don’t listen to her nonsense. She’s just some spoiled rich brat with mental problems. Delusional.” “Delusional enough to have your hand on her thigh?” Derek ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “That was to keep her hooked! She just dropped two hundred thousand on training packages with me! Two hundred thousand, Mara!” “The customer is king. When the king makes excessive demands, can I refuse? I’m just playing along!” He looked at me self-righteously. “Can you be a little more mature? Stop competing with some young girl, okay?” “Mature?” I laughed bitterly. “Derek, you call cheating ‘playing along’? You call your mistress provoking me ‘a delusional young girl’?” “What cheating! Don’t make it sound so ugly!” Derek raised his voice. “Don’t I give you all the money I earn?” “Mara, have a conscience. I nearly crippled my leg saving you. Now I’m sacrificing my dignity for this family, and instead of being grateful, you keep attacking me. Are you trying to drive me to death?” He brought up that scar again. Every time we fought, he’d mention that car accident. And every time he mentioned it, I’d have to back down. But this time, I wasn’t backing down. “If it’s so unbearable, refund the money. Stop training this client.” I stared at him. “Two hundred thousand. We don’t need it.” Derek exploded. “Are you insane? That’s two hundred thousand! You think you can just say no to it? You think money grows on trees?” “Mara, you’re being so selfish! Who am I working so hard for? Now you want me to refund the money? You’re trying to destroy my career!” He glared at me viciously. “This is unbelievable! I’m not coming home tonight. I’m working overtime at the gym!” The door slammed shut. I looked at the empty house, my heart growing colder by the second. My phone buzzed again. [Ivy: Derek left, didn’t he? He said he’s coming to my place tonight to fix my plumbing. Want to come watch?] The attached image showed lingerie. I replied with one sentence. [Sure. Send me your address.] Silence for a few seconds. [Ivy: Skyline International Apartments. You actually dare to come? Don’t cry on your way home.]
I changed clothes and put on careful makeup. Skyline International Apartments was one of the city’s most upscale complexes. I didn’t go up right away. Instead, I went to a nearby mall. I bought the latest model action camera and clipped it to my bag strap. Then I headed to Derek’s gym. Before I even entered, I heard cheering inside. “Derek’s the man! Those weighted squats—nobody does it like you!” “Ivy’s got an incredible body!” I pushed open the glass door. A crowd had gathered in the personal training area. Derek was lying on a bench press, hands gripping a barbell. And Ivy was straddling his waist. With each of Derek’s movements, she rose and fell, making sounds that would make anyone blush. “Coach, faster~” The woman’s voice was unbearably seductive. “Can’t handle this already?” The man’s voice was low and amused, dripping with flirtation and wildness. The male trainers and clients around them whistled. Derek’s face was flushed red, his eyes filled with enjoyment and excitement. This wasn’t fitness training. This was public foreplay. I stood outside the crowd, coldly watching the scene. Someone noticed me. “Hey, isn’t that Derek’s wife?” Derek’s movements faltered. He nearly dropped the barbell. Ivy turned to see me. Instead of getting off, she wrapped her arms around Derek’s neck and raised her chin at me in challenge. “Oh, look who’s here. Derek’s giving me core training. Want to try it too?” Derek frantically pushed Ivy off and sat up. “Mara, what are you doing here?” He wiped his sweat, eyes darting away. “Didn’t you say you were resting at home?” I walked over, looking at Ivy’s face—full of collagen but written all over with desire. “I came to bring you lunch.” I held up my thermos. “I was worried you were working too hard and not eating enough.” Ivy burst out laughing. “Bringing lunch? Girl, what is this, elementary school? A beast like Derek needs protein, not your watery soup.” She reached out and poked Derek’s chest. “Right, Derek? You just said earlier that after having the imported protein powder I bought you, your stamina got way better.” Derek looked around awkwardly and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the break room. “Enough. Don’t make a scene. People are watching.” Once in the break room, he flung my hand away, his expression darkening. “Mara, what exactly are you trying to do? Come here to sabotage me on purpose?” “Bringing you lunch is sabotaging you?” I looked at him. “But her riding on top of you and moaning—that’s bringing you honor?” “That was a training movement! Glute bridges! Do you understand anything?” Derek hissed in a low voice. “In front of all those clients, you show up with that dead face—you know how embarrassing that was for me?” “Embarrassing?” “Your pride comes from having female clients ride on top of you?” “Shut up!” Derek pointed at my nose. “Ivy’s a rich kid. Her family’s loaded. What leaks through her fingers is enough to keep us comfortable! That’s just her personality. Can’t you just turn a blind eye?” “Turn a blind eye and wait for her to move in?” “You’re impossible!” Derek spun around in frustration. “Mara, look at yourself. What do you have that compares to her? She’s young, beautiful, knows how to flirt, knows how to have fun. And you? You’re lifeless all day, dressed like a middle-aged woman. I’m embarrassed to take you anywhere!” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Middle-aged woman? Who was it that used to say he loved my bare face the most? Who said I looked better without makeup than all those “cheap sluts”? Turns out, when love dies, even breathing is wrong. Just then, the break room door was pushed open. Ivy leaned against the doorframe. “Derek, don’t be angry. If you damage your health, who’s going to train with me?” She walked in, completely ignoring my presence, and handed water directly to Derek’s lips. “Have some water and calm down. She’s older, probably going through menopause. Gets sensitive easily. You need to be understanding.” Derek took the water and drank from her hand, his anger dissipating, replaced by an ingratiating smile. “You’re so understanding, Ivy.” Ivy turned to look at me, her eyes full of contempt. “Did you hear that? Men need to be coaxed. Being aggressive like this will only push him further away.” “By the way, are we still on for fixing the plumbing tonight? I’ve been preparing for so long.” Her gaze swept over Derek’s lower body. Derek coughed dryly, glanced at me guiltily, then said to Ivy: “Yes, of course. When have I ever broken a promise to you?” My heart turned to ice. Right in front of me, he was openly flirting and making hookup plans. I set the thermos on the table. “Fine. Since you need to fix plumbing, I won’t disturb you.” I turned to leave. Behind me came Ivy’s triumphant laughter: “Take care, bye now~” Derek didn’t chase after me. I walked out of the gym into blinding sunlight. I touched the camera on my bag strap. The red light kept blinking. Perfect. Derek. Ivy. I’ll repay every humiliation you’ve given me, with interest.
At 10 PM, rain poured down. I received a call from the hospital. “Is this Ms. Mara Evans? Your father has had a sudden cerebral hemorrhage. He’s in emergency surgery. We need a family member to sign immediately!” The phone nearly slipped from my hand. My dad had high blood pressure, but it had always been well-controlled. How could he suddenly have a brain hemorrhage? I rushed to the hospital while calling Derek. The background on his end was noisy—heavy metal music and women’s screaming. “What? I’m busy right now!” Derek’s voice was impatient, clearly drunk. “Derek, my dad’s having a brain hemorrhage. He’s in surgery. Come to City General Hospital now! The doctor needs family to sign. I’m scared by myself…” My voice trembled. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. “Brain hemorrhage?” Derek paused, then sneered. “Mara, if you’re going to make up excuses, at least make them believable. You’d even curse your own father just to trick me into coming back?” “I’m not lying! It’s real! The doctor issued a critical condition notice!” I shouted into the phone. “Enough! Stop acting!” Derek cut me off impatiently. “Ivy just twisted her ankle. She’s in a lot of pain. I’m taking her to the hospital. Your dad’s chronic condition—just give him some medicine. Stop making a big deal out of nothing.” “Twisted ankle?” I asked in disbelief. “My father’s life is hanging by a thread, and you’re telling me about her twisted ankle?” “A twisted ankle is serious! She could have a fracture! She’s a dancer—her legs are her life!” Derek shouted back self-righteously. “Besides, your dad’s condition isn’t new. It could happen any time. Why now? I think you’re all conspiring to mess with me!” “Derek! Are you even human? That’s my father! Your father-in-law!” “Stop guilt-tripping me! I can’t leave right now! Ivy’s crying in pain. I need to stay with her for X-rays. Handle it yourself. Stop bothering me!” “Beep—” The call ended. I held my phone and looked down at my social media feed. Ivy had posted an update one minute ago. [Is this what it feels like to be cherished? I casually mentioned wanting to go clubbing, and he ditched the old hag at home to take me out~] The photo showed a club booth. Derek had his arm around her. Ivy’s leg was propped up on the coffee table, looking perfectly fine—not the slightest sign of injury. So in his heart, my father’s life wasn’t worth as much as his mistress saying “I want to go clubbing.” The surgical lights went out. The doctor emerged, removing his mask and shaking his head. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. He was brought in too late…” My vision went black. My phone buzzed again. Derek’s voice message. “Okay, stop pretending. I transferred five thousand dollars. Take your dad to buy some supplements. I’m not coming home tonight. Ivy’s really shaken up. I need to stay with her. Be reasonable and stop calling me.” [Transfer: $5,000] Looking at that red transfer notification, I didn’t cry. Five thousand dollars. It bought out the last of my illusions about him.
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