1 After eight years of marriage, my husband Garrett decided to keep a young mistress on the side. When I finally caught him, he shrugged it off with a casual explanation. “It’s just a bit of fun, Vivian. Every man makes mistakes. You need to be understanding.” I stayed silent. What he didn’t know was that I had a beautiful young lover of my own. … This was the third time I had caught Garrett cheating. He seemed to have a bizarre affection for underground parking garages. Every single time I discovered his affairs, it was always in the cramped backseat of his car, tucked away in the shadows of some concrete basement. Seeing them tangled together, practically devouring each other, I simply averted my gaze and kept walking. Garrett saw me. He quickly shoved the girl to the side, muttered a few words to her, and sent her driving away. When I got home, all I wanted was to wash the grime of the day off my skin and sleep. My young lover had been incredibly passionate the night before, leaving a few telltale bruises on my collarbone. Before I could lock the bathroom door, Garrett pushed his way in. “Vivian, don’t worry,” he said, his voice entirely dismissive. “It was just a fling. I’m only playing around.” I didn’t say a word. Garrett’s patience began to wear thin. “It’s a mistake any man would make, Vivian. Just get over it.” He probably thought I was silently weeping in heartbreak. In reality, I was just doing everything I could to keep my hair draped over my neck, hiding the fresh love bites. “Here,” he said, pulling a sleek black credit card from his wallet and sliding it into my palm. “Stop moping. Take this. Buy whatever you want, there’s no limit.” When I had caught him the first time, he had actually apologized, begging for my forgiveness. When that didn’t work, he resorted to the classic excuse about male nature. I had screamed, cried, and slapped his face when he tried to hand me a credit card back then. In response, he had taken his mistress to France for two full weeks, a petty move designed to punish me for my defiance. Looking at the card in my hand now, I calmly pocketed it, turned around, and walked upstairs. Garrett watched me go, his brows knitting together in slight irritation. He seemed disappointed that I wasn’t screaming. 2 My phone vibrated on the vanity. It was Asher. I stepped out onto the balcony, sliding the glass door shut before pressing answer. His sweet, velvety voice immediately filled my ear. “Did you miss me, beautiful? Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Can I see you tomorrow?” “Didn’t we just spend the night together?” I teased, a soft smile tugging at my lips. “Not tomorrow, darling. I have to work. Let’s aim for next week, and I’ll bring you a little present.” Listening to his soft, adoring murmurs over the line, the heavy weight in my chest evaporated. Garrett was right about one thing: youth was a powerful drug. Spending time with Asher made me feel alive, stripping away the bitter exhaustion of my failing marriage. The moment I hung up and turned around, I gasped. Garrett was standing right behind me in the darkness of the bedroom, his eyes searching my face. “Who was that?” he asked, his voice low and tight. “A client,” I replied, my tone deliberately flat. Garrett’s jaw tightened, his gaze hardening with suspicion. “What kind of client calls this late at night?” His interrogative tone rubbed me the wrong way. “What is your problem? I told you, it’s a client. Stop being paranoid. Do you think everyone behaves the way you do?” His face flushed with silent anger. I brushed past him and locked myself in the bathroom. Standing before the mirror, I pulled my hair back, inspecting the faint purple marks on my throat. They were faint enough to be hidden under a few strategic strands. When I stepped back into the bedroom, Garrett was still waiting. He stepped toward me, reaching out to catch my hand. “Vivian, it’s been a really long time since we…” I pulled my hand back before he could finish. “Not tonight. I’m exhausted from work.” That was his breaking point. He let out a harsh breath, grabbed his jacket, and slammed the door as he stormed out of the house. He had been trying to initiate a truce, but we hadn’t had a real conversation in years. Once, we had been madly in love. During our university days, I had gone on a mountain hiking trip that ended in disaster when a landslide hit, trapping us in the wilderness. As I sat shivering in the dark, terrified and alone, Garrett had appeared with the rescue team. His clothes were torn, his face smeared with dirt, and his arms were covered in deep scratches from searching through the brush. The moment I saw him, my panic vanished. One of the rescue officers later told me that Garrett had refused to stop searching for two straight days. In that moment, I promised myself I would spend the rest of my life loving him. But eight years into our marriage, he was cheating on me without a second thought. Love, it turned out, had a incredibly short shelf life. 3 On Saturday, Asher sent me a text. I booked a private room at Mirabelle, beautiful. I ordered all your favorite dishes. Come keep me company? I replied with a quick thumbs-up. I had met Asher at a lounge. I had been feeling miserable after discovering another one of Garrett’s betrayals, and my best friend had dragged me out to get my mind off things. The loud, crowded space wasn’t my scene, so I had stepped out into the alley for some air. That was where I saw Asher, standing up to a couple of rowdy drunks who were harassing a young girl. I had stepped in, threatening to call the police, and the drunks had cursed before slinking away. “Hi, I’m Asher,” he had said, turning to me with a brilliant, dazzling smile. “I’m Vivian.” “I know,” he replied, his eyes crinkling. “We’ve met before.” I had stared at him, unable to recall where I could have possibly seen him. “I’m a student at State University,” he explained. “I was the host when you came back to speak at the alumni event two years ago.” After that, we had exchanged numbers. A few dinners turned into late-night drinks, and one evening, we ended up in bed together. He was young, breathtakingly handsome, and incredibly attentive. I parked my car outside Mirabelle and made my way toward the private rooms. Just as I was about to open the door to my booth, I heard a familiar voice coming from the adjacent room. It was Garrett, laughing with his best friend, Gabe. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with your little girl lately,” Gabe was saying. Garrett remained silent. Gabe let out a whistle. “Wait, are you actually falling for her? I thought she was just a distraction.” Garrett sighed. “Who said she was just a distraction?” “What about Vivian?” A long pause followed before Garrett spoke, his voice entirely devoid of warmth. “Vivian is thirty-one now. She’s like a piece of dry wood in bed. No excitement, no fun.” Gabe chuckled. “So, are you going to divorce her?” “No. I’m never divorcing her. She’ll always be my wife.” Gabe laughed, raising his glass. “Man, you really have it all figured out.” 4 Standing in the quiet corridor, a cold dread settled over my chest. This was how the man I shared a bed with truly saw me. If he found me so boring, why was he refusing to let me go? Did he simply think I was too weak, too dependent to ever walk away? My feet felt like they were glued to the floor. Part of me wanted to fling his door open and make a scene, just like I used to. But I knew how that story ended. “Vivian, you’re here! I’ve been waiting for you,” Asher’s voice cut through my thoughts, his warm hand wrapping around my wrist as he gently guided me into our private room. As we sat down, Asher noticed my pale face. “What’s wrong, beautiful? Don’t look so sad. I’ll always be here for you, okay?” Looking at the young boy with his bright, hopeful eyes, a sudden realization struck me. The booth next to Garrett wasn’t a coincidence. I took a deep breath, looking straight into his eyes. “You set this up, didn’t you? And stop calling me by that nickname.” Asher didn’t look away, nor did he deny it. He simply gave me a playful wink, pouring me a cup of warm tea. “Don’t be mad,” he murmured softly. “I just wanted you to see that jerk for who he really is. I’m sorry if it hurt you.” Did it hurt? Of course. But the pain had been dulling with every betrayal. Still, my appetite was completely gone. “Let’s do this another time. I need to go home.” The next afternoon, my phone buzzed with an unknown number. It was a text containing several photos of a man’s bare back, his fingers locked intimately with another person’s hand. The faces weren’t visible, but I recognized the small mole on the man’s shoulder immediately. It was Garrett. The sender was his young mistress. I let out a cold laugh. She was getting impatient, trying to mark her territory and force me out of the picture. I tapped out a quick reply: I’ve saved these photos. Garrett and I are still legally married, which means any money he spent on you is marital property. If you keep bothering me, I’ll hire a lawyer and make sure you return every single cent he gave you. Within seconds, the photos were frantically recalled. I had hesitated to file for divorce because our finances and business assets were deeply intertwined. But looking at the empty bedroom, I realized that no amount of money was worth this slow, agonizing death. 5 I hadn’t seen Asher since that night at the restaurant. Feeling completely drained, I approved my accumulated leave from work, packed a small bag, and caught a late-night flight to my mother’s house in the countryside. When my mother opened the door, she was speechless. Years ago, when I had insisted on marrying Garrett, she had been vehemently opposed to the union. The financial gap between our families was massive, and she had warned me of the consequences. “He loves you now, but what about the future? His mother already looks down on you. If his feelings change, you’ll have no one to protect you.” I had been too blinded by love to listen, marrying him despite her warnings. She had refused to speak to me ever since. Garrett had promised he would prove his worth to her, promising to be my rock forever. Now, her words had come back to haunt me. Seeing my exhausted, pale face, my mother didn’t need an explanation. “Look at you, looking like a ghost. I told you that family would eat you alive. Did his mother lock you out?” A lump rose in my throat, and the tears I had held back for months finally spilled over. “Mom…” I whispered. My mother’s hard expression softened instantly. She pulled me into a tight, warm hug. “Alright, that’s enough. You’re home now. It’s not like I can’t afford to feed you. Come inside, I’ll make some food.” Sitting at her small kitchen table, eating her homemade chicken dumplings, I felt a spark of warmth return to my soul. I stayed with her for two weeks. One evening, my phone rang. It was Garrett. “Vivian, where the hell are you? Do you even care about this family anymore? You’ve been gone for days. Do you even remember you’re a married woman?” Before he could launch into another lecture, I hung up. The phone rang again instantly, buzzing continuously. I swiped answer, my voice cold. “Learn to speak to me with respect. I don’t owe you any explanations about where I go.” “You’re my wife,” he snapped, his voice tight with anger. “Of course I have a right to know.” “Sure,” I said, and hung up on him again. The next evening, a loud, heavy knocking rattled my mother’s front door. I pulled it open to find Garrett standing on the porch. His suit was wrinkled, his hair messy, looking entirely out of breath. He stared at me, a flicker of panic softening his tense features. “You… you’re really here?” We both knew why he was surprised. My mother had forbidden me from returning, and yet here I was, living peacefully in her home. As my mother walked into the hallway, Garrett’s eyes shifted nervously. He tried to step inside, but my younger brother stepped into the doorway, pushing him back. “My mother said strangers aren’t allowed inside,” my brother said coldly. Garrett’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t dare raise his voice in front of my family. In the past, despite his mother’s arrogance, he had always tried to maintain a polite front around my mother. “I’ll handle this,” I whispered to my mother and brother, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind me. Garrett and I stood in the cool night air, the silence stretching between us. Finally, I spoke the words that had been weighing on me for weeks. “Garrett, let’s get a divorce.” Garrett’s brow furrowed, his eyes flashing with irritation. “On what grounds?” I let out a dry laugh. “You’re seriously asking me that?” He pulled out a cigarette, preparing to light it, but stopped himself when he remembered I hated the smell, pocketing it instead. “Is this still about the affair? I told you, it was a mistake. You’ll always be my wife, Vivian. I still love you.” Looking at the handsome, arrogant man in front of me, my mind drifted back to the twenty-year-old boy who had loved me with his entire soul. The boy who had learned to cook spicy dishes just to make me smile when I was stressed. But that boy was dead. The man standing in front of me was a stranger. “Garrett, we’re toxic for each other now. I don’t want a cheating husband, and you wouldn’t tolerate a cheating wife. Let’s just set each other free.” He froze, his expression turning defensive. “Are you threatening me? Vivian, I know you. You’d never cheat on me.” “I’m not divorcing you. I’ll break things off with the girl, alright?” “My lawyer will send you the papers,” I said, turning back toward the door. “If you don’t sign, I’ll file for a contested divorce.” Losing his temper, Garrett kicked the large potted jasmine plant sitting near the steps, shattering the clay pot. It was the very same jasmine plant he had bought for me years ago when I mentioned I loved the scent. I had left it at my mother’s house when we got married. It had survived for years, only to be crushed under his boot today. “I’m telling you, I won’t sign!” he roared before turning and storming back to his car. I stared at the broken white blossoms scattered across the dirt. My vacation was over, and it was time to return to the city to settle my affairs. During my trip, Asher had sent me dozens of messages, none of which I had replied to. I knew our little arrangement had to end. Just as I was thinking about him, my phone rang. “Vivian,” his voice came through, sounding incredibly small and hurt. “I’m sorry. Please don’t ignore me.” I didn’t know how he had tracked Garrett’s movements, but I couldn’t afford any more complications. “Asher, we’re done. Let’s not see each other again. If you need any financial compensation, let me know, and I’ll arrange it.” The line went silent for a moment, his voice turning cold when he spoke again. “Why? Do you still love him that much?” Then, his tone softened, returning to that familiar, pleading murmur. “Alright. I won’t push you. But can we please see each other one last time? Just to say goodbye. Please?” “Okay,” I whispered. For our final meeting, he was incredibly passionate, holding me with a desperate, heavy intensity that left me completely exhausted. As he walked me back to my apartment lobby, he pulled me against the wall near the elevators, kissing me with a frantic, unyielding hunger, whispering that he couldn’t bear to let me go. My heart softened, and I let him hold me. Suddenly, a furious roar shattered the quiet lobby. “What the hell are you doing?” Asher pulled back slowly, a smug, victorious smile spreading across his face as he looked at Garrett. He leaned close to my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Look at that, beautiful. We got caught.”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “527580”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel
Leave a Reply