Chapter 1

I'd been married to Charles Foster for five years, and he treated me like a queen. Everyone envied me for landing such a devoted husband.

Then I discovered his other life. The apartment across town. The young girl he kept there.

When I confronted him, screaming and crying, he barely looked up from his phone. "She's just for fun, babe. Something new, you know? You're still my wife. What's the problem?"

The problem, Charles, was that I felt dirty.

I terminated the pregnancy and walked out the door.

*****

I opened the door and saw an elegant box sitting on the table. Charles was on the couch reading a magazine.

He hadn't been home in a week, not since I caught him with his mistress and we had that massive fight.

I'd stopped asking where he went or what he did. I wasn't going to be that nagging wife anymore.

If he hadn't come back today, I would've almost forgotten he existed.

When he saw me, he stood up and reached for my waist, trying to pull me close.

I stepped back and avoided his touch.

The arms I used to crave now made me feel sick.

Charles froze for a second, but he didn't say anything. He picked up the box and held it out to me.

"I remember you said your watch broke," he said. "I got you a new one. You like it?"

This was Charles trying to make peace.

For the past five years, every fight ended the same way. He'd buy me something small, and I'd forgive him.

It didn't matter how many nights I cried myself to sleep. The moment he reached out, I'd pretend nothing happened and take him back.

But now I was exhausted.

I didn't even look at the box. I walked past him and headed for the stairs.

Charles sighed and grabbed my hand, pulling me into his arms.

"You still mad at me?" he asked.

I pulled his hand away and refused to answer.

My silence must have finally gotten to him because Charles frowned, and anger crept across his face.

Charles snapped, "It's been a week and you still haven't figured it out? Can you stop acting like a child?"

His words dripped with blame, like I was the one being unreasonable.

I looked at the man I'd loved for five years, and a bitter smile tugged at my lips.

I asked, "So you stayed away all week waiting for me to come to my senses? You think I'm overreacting?"

Charles didn't answer, but his silence said everything.

He agreed with me.

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the pain in my chest.

I said, "Then let's get divorced."

Charles grabbed my wrist hard, and his eyes blazed with undisguised anger.

Charles said, "Emily, I told you she's just for fun. Once the novelty wears off I'll pay her off and send her away. She won't threaten your position."

He continued, "I've given you money and attention all these years. I'm just keeping a woman on the side to unwind after work. Can't you understand that?"

I couldn't believe this shameless garbage was coming from the man I'd loved for five years.

What did he think women were?

A puppy he could call and dismiss at will?

I struggled to break free from his grip and stared at him in disbelief.

I said, "Charles, when did you become like this? You make me sick."

Charles' face twisted with impatience, and the last trace of warmth disappeared from his expression.

"This kind of thing is normal for someone in my position," Charles said dismissively. "I've only kept one mistress in five years of marriage, so I've been pretty faithful. I've never treated you any less during this time, so what more do you want?"

He continued, his tone growing sharper. "Look at Mr. Lewis. He's never stopped having mistresses since his wedding day, and his wife has never made a scene. Everyone just turns a blind eye. If other women can deal with it, why can't you?"

His absurd reasoning made me laugh bitterly.

"By that logic, I haven't kept anyone on the side in five years, so I'm at a disadvantage," I shot back. "Maybe I should go find myself a few toy boys too."

My words completely enraged him, and his grip on my wrist tightened.

"I won't allow it!" Charles snapped.

Of course, he wouldn't. Men were always so hypocritical about these things.

They kept mistresses and lived it up, partying and enjoying themselves.

Still, they expected their wives to stay home and behave like perfect little housewives.

Why should we put up with that?

"You can't even accept it yourself, so how can you have the nerve to demand that I accept it?" I said coldly. "Let's get divorced. Looking at you now just makes me sick."