The Game of a Married Woman

Marceline POV

"Excuse me. I touched that first," a woman, probably in her late fifties, said as she grabbed the other end of the cotton.

My fingers tightened around it. Was she serious? She touched it first? No way. I had clearly picked it up before her hand even came close.

Why would she lie about something so obvious? My eyes darted to the shelf. This was the last one in this color. The rest were different shades I didn't want.

I had been driving from mall to mall, searching for this exact cotton, this exact shade. I needed it to knit a sweater for my little boy, Roman. And after all that searching, I finally found it only for this woman to show up with her drama.

Still, I held back my anger. I had come too far to give up now.

I cleared my throat and forced a polite smile.

"I'm really sorry, but could you pick another one? I really, really need this..."

She cut me off before I could even finish.

"You think I don't need it too?"

My God. The attitude. I swallowed down my frustration, ignored her sharp tone, and tried once more. After staring at me for a moment, she finally sighed and let go of the cotton.

"Thank you so much," I said quickly, relief flooding me.

As soon as she walked away, I let out the breath I had been holding. I couldn't believe I had just played nice. But what choice did I have? She was older. If I had pushed back, people around would have sided with her automatically without caring who grabbed it first.

I went straight to the counter, paid for the cotton, and hurried out of the mall.

I was about to drive home when it struck me....my friend Anastasia lived nearby. And today was Wednesday. She always said she didn't work on Wednesdays. It was the day she spent with her husband and son, so we rarely met then.

I took out my phone from my bag and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. I sighed and shook my head in frustration. Well, it won't hurt to drop by unannounced, would

it?

After thinking for a moment, I turned my car toward the road that led to her house.

I reached the estate in no time and drove slowly, careful not to miss her villa. I had been here so many times, yet I still got confused...the villas all looked the same. That was

why I always called her before coming over, so she would stand outside to wave at me.

"I think I've passed it... or maybe not," I muttered in frustration. How do people living here even recognize their own houses? I wondered. "Maybe I should just head home."

But as if luck finally smiled at me, I spotted a flower vase on a villa right in front of me. My heart eased. That was Anastasia's villa. Finally.

I parked outside, stepped out of my car but paused. A car was already there, parked inside her villa. My breath caught. I knew that car. Not just familiar. It was Philip's. My husband's car.

My heart skipped a beat. Why is Philip here? He should be at the company. Did something happen? Worry swept through me. Anastasia worked as a director in his company, maybe something urgent had brought him here.

Panic shot through me, and without knocking, I rushed inside the villa, too anxious to think straight.

The living room was empty. No Philip. No Anastasia. Not even her husband. My frown deepened. Why was there no one here?

I was about to call out Anastasia's name when my eyes caught something on the table. A wristwatch.

I stepped closer, and my stomach turned. It was Philip's.

If his watch was here, it meant he was truly here. But where was he? Where were they?

Then I heard it a faint sound drifting from upstairs.