She loved her husband. She gave him everything, without hesitation, offering her heart, her soul, and her dreams. But he was nothing but a receiver, never a giver. He took without ever giving back, feeding off her affection and sacrifices. He was selfish, and every gesture she made for him seemed like a mere formality to satisfy his needs. He was never there for her, except when it served him. The only things he offered were confusion. He gave her empty promises, sweet words that rang hollow. He offered manipulation, ideals disguised as his "undeniable love," but in reality, he only loved one person: himself. She adored him, but he saw in her nothing more than a tool to fill his inner emptiness. He had invaded her mind to the point where, when he proposed an open relationship, he made her believe it was her idea, seducing her with subtle words. She wanted to believe him, convincing herself that it was a step of compromise, a sacrifice for the love he claimed to have for her. But deep down, she knew it wasn't what she wanted. She wanted him, and only him. He wanted her, and all the others he could get, all those who would feed his insatiable need for power and domination. But all of that changed when Tobias Wrexler entered their lives. His intense gaze, his silent yet powerful presence, brought a turning point in her life. The shadow of her husband suddenly seemed far less threatening in the light that Tobias brought.
Chapter 1 01
01
2 hours.
I sat there for 2 hours.
I sat there in my lace, rouge red teddy with my garter sitting seductively on my bare thigh and in my black stiletto Christian Louboutin red bottom heels to match. My skin was glossy, moisturized from head to toe, almost patent, but I was ready to glisten from the glow of the orgasms he used to give me. I was ready for the lace to be ripped off my body, beyond repair, only to be left in my garter and my Louboutins. I was ready to be ravished by the man who put that final ring on my finger only five years ago, today.
But that wasn't going to happen-and deep down, I knew it.
I waited and waited, hoping, praying, wishing on stars that probably had long since burned out. I imagined him walking through the double doors of the house we built together, his eyes dark with the same hunger he used to have for me. I pictured him lifting me off my feet, carrying me to the kitchen table to devour the two-course meal I had spent hours preparing, only to then devour me for dessert.
However, that dream shattered when I woke up, still in my ensemble, sitting on the edge of our marital bed in the dark of night. The house was still, save for the sound that ultimately ripped me apart-a hearty laugh, his laugh, followed by the soft giggle of another.
I quickly wrapped my silk robe around my body, the cool fabric sticking to the heated skin that was still embarrassingly primed for him, and silently crept down our grand staircase.
What I was met with wasn't a surprise, but it still chipped at my beating heart every single time.
There he was-Chase.
The man I promised my life to.
The man who now belonged to someone else every night and expected me to pretend it didn't shatter me.
His wedded hand was twisted in a fistful of her red hair-his favorite color. He devoured her lips like they were oxygen and he was suffocating. She clung to him with desperate fingers, and he didn't seem to care that anyone could see, least of all his wife.
I stood there, arms crossed over my chest, clutching my robe tighter, waiting, hoping he would notice me. But, as per usual, he didn't.
I felt a single tear slip down my cheek as the pain I had anesthetized for so long finally woke up again, sharp and all-consuming.
"Chase-" she breathed, gasping as he trailed kisses down her neck to her shoulder.
"Cha-Chase, your wife is here," she moaned, almost embarrassed but too caught up in him to really care.
I felt bile claw up my throat. He slowly looked over his shoulder at me, as if I were nothing more than an inconvenient interruption.
I couldn't even meet his eyes. I felt myself instinctively covering my chest with the tiny silk material wrapped around me, shrinking under his gaze.
"Hey-hey baby, what are you doing up? I'm so sorry we woke you," he said casually, like he was apologizing for stepping on my foot, "I just wanted to spend tonight with my girlfriend, you can go back-"
"You asked her to be your girlfriend tonight?" I felt my voice break, the words tumbling from my lips like shards of broken glass.
He looked startled for a brief moment. Then he placed his hands on my arms, as if that would somehow tether me back to him. "Baby, we-we spoke about this. You said you were okay with this, you were the one who wanted this open relationship so I wouldn't cheat-"
And there it was.
The blame.
The guilt.
The manipulation that he wielded so perfectly.
Yeah. It was my choice.
Serves me right for thinking this would be different.
I loved this man with everything in me. I loved him so much that I let him talk me into an arrangement that broke me piece by piece. I agreed because the alternative-losing him-seemed worse. But now, I realized that maybe losing him would have been mercy compared to the slow death of our marriage.
I felt their eyes on me, burning holes into my soul. I couldn't let her see me like this-weak, broken, betrayed.
Without another word, I fled to our room and slammed the door behind me.
I slid down the heavy wood, my knees giving out as tears flooded my face.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I whispered harshly, hitting the back of my head softly against the door with each word. My sobs were so violent that they shook my body, years of swallowed pain spilling out all at once.
Then I heard it-loud footsteps rushing toward me, then a single heavy thump as Chase slammed his hand against the door.
"Please open the door, please, beautiful," he pleaded.
That single word.
It could unravel me in seconds.
Beautiful.
Chase always knew how to get to me. Even when everything else crumbled, he made me feel beautiful. He whispered it into the darkness when I cried about my body. He murmured it into my hair when the world was too cruel. He said it like it was a truth no one else could take away.
And hearing it now, layered with enough love and desperation to sound almost convincing, I hated how badly I still wanted to believe him.
I pressed my forehead against the door, my tears soaking into the wood.
"I'm sorry, baby," he continued on the other side, his voice cracking. "You know I love you more than anything. You know you're my world. Please don't shut me out."
I squeezed my eyes shut, letting more tears fall.
Because part of me still wanted to believe him.
Part of me still wanted to throw the door open, leap into his arms, and forget the girl with the red hair ever existed.
But the other part-the part that was growing louder and angrier every day-knew better.
Still, the war raged inside me. Love and pain tangled together so tightly I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
I stayed on the floor, silent. Listening to him breathing heavily on the other side, waiting.
Waiting for me to forgive him like I always did.
Waiting for me to choose him over myself.
Again.
But tonight, for the first time, I didn't know if I could.
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