The Affair Revenge My Bestfriend's Husband Offered Me

My fifth wedding anniversary was the day I learned my husband had never stopped loving her.

Lately I noticed it, my husband often on a phone call late at night. I thought it was about work. But his tone as he talked sound too personal for a business partner. Then one night I heard him called that name.

Jovi.

Our childhood friend. I'd spent five years pretending that name didn't live between us.

I have been working hard at being the good wife. Someone who understand his need and the one he can called home. The one who waited while he mourned her. The wife he married but never truly love.

Jovi and Zane had been in relationship since high school. They were a pair of sweetheart. While I was the bestfriend who silently wanting him in the shadow while watching them being happy together. But their happiness didn't last forever.

It was seven years ago, she married the billionare from Blackwood family. And it was the first time I met her husband. The one she left Zane for. Vance Blackwood.

I stood beside her at their wedding, watched her marry a man who looked at her like she was a business proposal, not a person. I didn't know then that lucky could be the reason she felt like drowning every single days.

This morning, I'd passed him in the lobby of Astera Spire. New transfer from oversea to my department. New boss. He nodded once at me, barely visible. I nodded back. Professional. Distant. Two people connected only by the woman in our life. I didn't know then that by nightfall, everything would change.

The champagne was still cold in my hand. I'd bought it weeks ago, hidden it in the back of the fridge, imagined the look on his face when I brought it out.

Five years, Zane. Can you believe it?

Instead, I walked through my own front door and heard our bedfram, that familiar, rhythmic creak I knew in my bones. Mixed with it, asoft moan. A woman's voice. Familiar in my ears. Then his voice. Low. Desperate. Worshipful.

The sound he used to make in Jovi's car. In high school. When I was the one waiting outside. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the champagne. But I didn't do any of the things wives do in movies. I walked to the bedroom door, my knee trembled. It was open, just a crack. But it was enough to see everything.

His bare back. The freckle on his left shoulder blade moving in a rhythm that belonged to her. Her legs wrapped around him, red-polished toes curling into the sheets we'd chosen together. Blonde hair fanned across my pillow.

Then her eyes opened. Found mine. "Shit! Nerissa!"

She scrambled for the sheet.

He twisted. His face sweaty, flushed, then pale with pure panic.

It was the same look he'd had seven years ago. When she told him she was marrying Vance Blackwood. When I held him while he fell apart. Cried for the woman who walked away from his life. That was the moment I should have screamed. I wanted to claw at their faces. I wanted to make them feel one fraction of what I felt. But I didn't. I couldn't.

Instead I used the remain of my strength to turn around and walked away. Their voices followed me down the hall.

"Nerissa, wait!"

"It's not what you think!"

"Please, let me explain!"

Explain what? The last twenty years?

In the kitchen, I saw the other champagne bottle. The one he'd opened that morning, before her text arrived. She's in trouble. She's our best friend. You understand. I understood perfectly. I unscrewed the cap on my bottle and poured our anniversary down the sink. Watched it swirl and disappear. Dropped the bottle in the sink. It clanged but didn't break.

My keys were on the hook. I took them. Closed the front door softly behind me. The click was the echoed in my mind.

I drove for an hour. Maybe two. The streetlights blurred past. My mind recalled it perfectly.

Vance Blackwood had asked me, just hours ago, if I knew where his wife was. His grey eyes had been flat, just seeking information. I pulled over. My hands shook, but my voice was steady when I called my company's main line. I got his secretary, Lydia.

"Lydia, it's Nerissa Sullivan from R&D. I have the final numbers for the Harrington project for Mr. Blackwood's board call. It's a secure file. I need his direct line to send it."

"The protocol is to send it to the shared drive, Ms. Sullivan," she said, hesitant.

"The protocol will cause a delay he specifically said he couldn't afford. Do you want to own that delay?" I kept my tone polite, firm. The tone of someone who knew the system.

A pause. Then I heard a soft click. She gave me the number. I stared at it on my screen. The weapon I could use so I would not destroyed alone.

My finger hovered over the "call" button. But talking, hearing his voice, that felt too big, too real. I couldn't do it.

So I typed a text instead.

"Mr. Blackwood. Your wife is at my home with my husband. I thought you should know. - Sullivan."