The ninth time my husband’s mistress had the audacity to change the locks on our front door, a flicker of genuine annoyance finally crossed his face. I, on the other hand, was the one to calmly soothe him. “She’s just a kid, Alastair. She doesn’t know any better. Don’t get worked up.” Alastair’s hand, poised to smash the lock, froze mid-air. He turned and stared at me, his eyes boring into mine. “You’re not angry?” I was almost at a loss for words. After five years of marriage, this kind of chaos was routine. If I got angry every time, I’d have died of a stroke long ago. Besides, my own young boyfriend could be a real handful himself. All I felt for my husband was a strange sort of commiseration. “No, not angry.” … I thought he’d be relieved, but his expression turned uglier. He grabbed my arm, his grip almost brutal, and pulled me inside. He stared at me for a long moment before lighting a cigarette. “I already told you, it’s over between us. You don’t have to act like this.” I watched the glowing tip of his cigarette pulse in the dim light and gave a weary nod, turning to change into my slippers. I’d heard those words a hundred times. Fought about it a hundred times. The worst was on our wedding anniversary. We were celebrating with family and friends when his little lover, sporting a prosthetic baby bump, burst in and turned our home into a war zone. In that moment, the mask I wore shattered completely. I lunged at her like a madwoman, ready to tear her apart. But Alastair pulled me back too hard, and I fell. A warm gush of blood pooled beneath me. In the end, her pregnancy was a lie, but my child was gone. My life had become a sick joke. “What are you smiling about?” Alastair straightened up, his hand clamping around my wrist. “You don’t believe me?” His mood was volatile, and to avoid an endless argument, I gave him a placating lie. “I believe you. Of course, I believe you.” I’d spent the whole day managing a temperamental young man; I had no energy left to deal with him. I just wanted peace. But my compliance only seemed to fuel the fire in his chest. He let out a cold laugh and suddenly seized my face, his fingers digging into my cheeks. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You’re trying to piss me off. I hate that dead look on your face, so don’t even think you can manipulate me.” I wrenched my face from his grasp, about to spit back a sarcastic retort, when my phone vibrated. I glanced down. It was another photo from his mistress, Sierra. This time, a barely-there thong bikini. Doesn’t this look better on me than it does on you, Rowan? Alastair says he loves how young I am… he can never control himself when I dress like this… I wasn’t angry. I almost wanted to laugh. Her little tricks were child’s play compared to his first conquest. That one had made her debut at our wedding. A year of planning, our friends and family waiting, and Alastair was nowhere to be found. After a frantic search, I finally found him in a dressing room. Beneath him, a naked woman. Seeing my ashen face, Alastair calmly pushed her away. He straightened his own clothes before reaching out to wipe the tears streaming down my face. “She seduced me,” he’d said. “I promise, it won’t happen again.” For the rest of the day, he held me, a hollow doll, and we went through the motions. I thought it was a one-time mistake. I never imagined it was the beginning of my own personal hell. Seeing that I wasn’t reacting, Alastair frowned and peered at my phone screen. A second later, he snatched it from my hand and deleted the message. “That girl is asking for it! I’ll teach her a lesson she won’t forget!” With that, he gave my cheek an apologetic caress and stormed out. It was one of his mistress’s classic moves. With Alastair gone, I knew he wouldn’t be back tonight. So I washed up and went to bed alone. But in the middle of the night, a pair of hot hands began to roam my body. Alastair’s lips were on me, his kisses urgent, but his voice was laced with complaint. “Why didn’t you wait for me? You used to always wait up, no matter how late I was.” I stiffened. The drowsiness I felt curdled into a wave of nausea. He reminded me of how pathetic I used to be. Soon after we were married, he started coming home late. I’d wait from ten to one, from midnight to dawn. He hated it when I called to check on him, so I’d just pace the house like a caged animal. On the lucky nights, he’d come home, bringing the scent and marks of other women with him. On the unlucky ones, I’d watch the sun rise alone. I had cried. I had thrown fits. He’d just watch me with cold eyes until I was exhausted, then drop a single, icy line. “Stop acting like a lunatic.” Annoyed by my distraction, Alastair pinched my cheek, his tone self-congratulatory. “I taught her a lesson. Canceled her credit cards. She’ll be here to apologize to you tomorrow.” I frowned, pushing away his wandering hands. I got out of bed and started for the guest room. “I’m on my period. It’s not a good time.” Alastair’s face tightened, a fire igniting in his chest. He stared at me, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were on your period last week, and you’re on it again this week? Rowan, are you taking me for a fool?” I ignored him and tried to close the door, but he lunged forward, blocking it. “I know I was a bastard before, but I’ve changed, Rowan. Can’t you see that?” His voice was pleading. He took my hand and pressed it against his chest, over the tattoo there. Rowan. My name. For a moment, I was lost in a memory. We were eighteen, and we got them together. His family wanted him to go to a military academy, but all he wanted was to study abroad with me. In an act of rebellion, he went and got my name inked over his heart. When I found him, I burst into tears. He hadn’t used any anesthetic. His face was pale with pain, but his eyes were blazing. He touched my face, his voice full of a beautiful, wild arrogance. “No one is ever going to take you away from me.” Back then, I was naive enough to believe that was forever. So when another woman sent me a photo of her lips pressed against that same tattoo, I completely dissociated. I couldn’t feel sadness, couldn’t feel pain. The only thing that brought a sliver of relief, a gasp of air in the suffocating darkness, was the sight of my own blood. My fingers curled into a fist. I forced a gentle, understanding smile onto my face. “You’re overthinking it. I really don’t feel well. Let’s just forget the past. We don’t need to talk about it anymore.” Alastair faltered, a hint of guilt in his eyes. “Really…?” The silence stretched for a few seconds before he spoke again, his voice laced with disappointment. “Alright, then. Get some rest. If you’re not feeling better, you should see a doctor.” I nodded, ignoring the desperate longing in his eyes as I shut the door in his face. The moment it clicked shut, my phone lit up. A picture from Nico, showing off the championship trophy from his baseball game. He was like a proud puppy waiting for praise. Funnily enough, I had Alastair to thank for meeting him. Three years ago, Alastair was having a passionate affair with a college student. I tracked them down at her campus, ready for a confrontation. Instead, he shielded her, slapped me so hard I fell to the ground, and then walked away with his arm around her. A crowd of students gathered around me, their eyes filled with pity. That was the day something in me finally broke. I walked to the tallest building on campus and climbed to the roof. Just as I was about to jump, someone tackled me, slamming me back onto the concrete. Nico’s arms were like steel bands around my waist, his warm breath ghosting across my face. He seemed to be searching for the right words of comfort. After a long moment, he came up with a line, delivered with a reckless grin. “He can cheat, so why can’t you?” He was right. Why the hell couldn’t I? A young, athletic body, the clean, fresh scent of youth… wasn’t that a hundred times better than an old, stale man? From that day on, we began our secret affair. Amazing. Keep it up. After praising my puppy, I turned off my phone and went to sleep. The next morning, I was woken by the sound of laughter and playful whispers. I walked out of the guest room, a headache already forming, and saw Sierra pressed up against Alastair at the door of the master bedroom. “Don’t worry, Alastair,” she cooed. “I’ll be on my best behavior and apologize to Rowan.” While Sierra was a picture of nonchalance, Alastair seemed distracted, his brow furrowed. “Just stop causing trouble. And don’t do anything to make her angry.” “I know, I know. Now, can you kiss me?” Sierra stood on her toes, and Alastair didn’t pull away. The moment our eyes met, I thoughtfully closed their bedroom door for them. “Rowan!” I heard frantic footsteps behind me, and then Alastair’s hand was on my arm, gripping it tightly. A vein throbbed in his forehead; he was barely containing his rage. “What the hell was that?” His question baffled me. “What was what?” His grip tightened, and I winced, my face paling. “Are you crazy? Let go!” He didn’t loosen his hold, his face dark. “Are you blind? Didn’t you see her kissing me?” The words that had been simmering inside him for days finally boiled over. “Rowan, stop playing the part of the dutiful wife! I’d rather you scream and shout and tell me everything you’re feeling than look at me with that dead face!” Sierra’s eyes welled with tears. She approached me, her voice small and timid. “Rowan, it’s all my fault. I’m the one who won’t leave him alone. It has nothing to do with Alastair. Please don’t be angry with him.” She sounded so sincere, so heartbroken, as if she wasn’t the one who sent me photos from their bed, as if I was the one making a scene for no reason. I slowly turned to Alastair, my eyes filled with an exhaustion that went bone-deep. “What do you want from me?” You want me to fight with you, like before? To watch your every move, like before? To lose myself completely, turning into a ghost of a person, like before? Alastair was so damn selfish. Looking at his thunderous expression, I suddenly didn’t want to pretend anymore. “Let’s get a divorce.” The room fell into a dead, shocking silence. The sound of Alastair grinding his teeth was audible. A horrifying laugh escaped his throat. “A divorce?” He shook his head slowly. “In your dreams.” He studied me, a calculating look on his face, then let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Rowan, I was wondering what your next move would be. So this is it? Trying to threaten me with a divorce? You picked the wrong guy.” With that, he shoved me away, wrapped his arm around Sierra, and slammed the door behind them. I rubbed my reddened wrist and, as if nothing had happened, got ready for work. After that day, Alastair resumed his old habit of staying out all night. It was as if he was deliberately trying to provoke me, with new rumors of his affairs popping up constantly. The mocking whispers from those around me started up again. “Mrs. Vance? Please. She’s just clinging on. It won’t be long before she’s kicked to the curb, hahaha…” “She was always a social climber. Now that she’s older and lost her looks, she can’t keep her man on a leash. It’s pathetic, really.” … I pretended not to hear any of it. At the office, I focused on my work. After work, I’d go to the secret apartment I shared with Nico. I thought we could continue in this quiet stalemate. But then Sierra had to go and drag my mother, whose health was already fragile, into her games. She sent my mother the intimate photos of her and Alastair. The shock sent her into a coma. Shaking with rage, I stormed over to Sierra’s apartment. She answered the door in a bathrobe, fresh from the shower. Seeing me, she flashed a triumphant smile. “Ms. Vance, what brings you here?” She covered her mouth in a parody of surprise, her eyes glinting with malice. “Oh, don’t tell me your mother passed away and you need Alastair to come home for the fun—AH!” My fury exploded. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and slapped her across the face with all my strength. “You bitch!” Sierra’s shriek quickly brought Alastair running. He yanked me off her, throwing me to the floor. “Rowan, have you lost your mind?” A dull ache spread through my limbs, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I fought back a surge of tears and pointed a trembling finger at Sierra, who was now playing the victim. “She sent our bed photos to my mother! My mom is in the ICU right now, in a coma!” Alastair froze, his gaze snapping to Sierra. Sierra was sobbing uncontrollably, her whole body shaking. “My phone was hacked! I don’t know who sent them! Rowan, if you’re still angry, just hit me! Blame it all on me, I’ll take it!” She started slapping her own face, sharp, stinging sounds filling the air. Her cheeks were red in seconds. “That’s enough!” Alastair roared. He grabbed her hands, then turned to me. “What’s the point of bullying her? She’s with me all the time. When would she have had the time to bother your mother?” I struggled to control my shaking body and lunged for her. “If you have nothing to hide, then come with me to the police station.” “Ah!” Sierra cried out in pain as I grabbed her. CRACK. Alastair’s hand connected with my cheek. Time seemed to stop. My head buzzed. I slowly turned back to him, cupping my swollen face. A flicker of regret crossed his eyes. The hand that had struck me curled into a fist. But all he did was scoff, his voice laced with scorn. “If you weren’t so damn aggressive, I wouldn’t have had to hit you! You’re just jealous, so you’re looking for any excuse to blame Sierra.” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat. “Are you going to let me take her or not?” His voice was ice. “Never.” My fingernails dug into my palms. I smiled, though tears threatened to spill. All these years, whenever it came to his mistresses, I was always the one to be sacrificed. My child, my reputation, my dignity. All of it, gone. How many times had I gotten into fights with his lovers, only for him to pull me away, holding me back while their fists and nails rained down on my face? He would turn a blind eye to it all, only showing a flicker of concern when I spat blood. Then he would offer a few half-hearted rebukes. But now, I was done. I was so utterly sick of this disgusting relationship. Alastair was still lecturing me, his tone self-righteous. “Rowan, if you apologize nicely and stop giving me this attitude, maybe I’ll find it in my heart to take pity on you—” “Let’s get a divorce.” I cut him off coldly, throwing the divorce papers I’d had prepared onto his face. The smile on his face vanished. He stared at the documents scattered on the floor, then advanced, trapping me against the wall. “I told you, this little game of yours won’t work on me.” He looked so sure of himself, so certain that I was still the same Rowan who couldn’t live without him.
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