Betrayal.

Once inside the vast, silent apartment, I checked the time. It was only seven o'clock. Knowing Ethan would be late, I had hours to kill. I paced the floor, wondering how I’d survive the evening, until a metaphorical light bulb went off in my head. A grin spread across my lips.

I quickly cleared the dining table and moved into the kitchen. I decided then and there to make a romantic dinner. I called Dylan, asking him to send over red roses, scented candles, and balloons. He sounded reluctant and skeptical of my plan, but eventually, he agreed. Within the hour, a delivery person arrived with everything I had requested.

For the next two hours, I worked tirelessly on a special meal. I decorated the dining area with a path of flower petals and a cluster of candles. I wanted to decorate the whole living room, but time was against me; I had no idea when Ethan would decide to show his face.

I switched off the main lights and placed a lighter on the table, ready to illuminate the room the moment I heard his key in the lock. I was terrified—I didn't know if he would be touched or if he would fly into a rage. But this was the only way I knew how to fight for us.

I remembered how Ethan used to sneak me away from my house just for a quiet dinner, telling me he couldn't enjoy a meal unless I was there. I clung to that memory as I went to the bedroom to get ready.

I pulled out a stunning red halter dress that reached mid-thigh. As I zipped it up, a wave of nerves hit my stomach. What if he actually wanted me? What if he demanded his "husbandly rights"? I shook the thought away. Even at his worst, Ethan’s moral compass had always been strong; he had never forced me into anything back in high school, believing we were too young for that level of intimacy.

I put on the dress and twisted my hair into a high, elegant bun. I remembered how much Ethan used to claim he hated the bun—because he loved the feeling of opening it and letting my hair fall through his fingers. I wanted him to do that tonight. I wanted to feel him again.

Ready at last, I took a tour of the apartment to settle my nerves. It was grander than I had imagined. Beyond the main areas, there was a personal library, a pool table room, and a music room featuring a sleek black piano and various other instruments. Many other rooms remained locked, mysteries for another day.

I even ventured into Ethan’s master suite. It was a room fit for royalty, with a massive circular bed and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city lights. His walk-in closet was filled with rows of designer suits, organized perfectly. I peeked into the drawers, seeing his collection of ties and colognes. The bathroom alone was larger than my entire old apartment. Finally, I stepped out onto his balcony, gasping at the sight of a large Jacuzzi surrounded by lush potted plants. It was beautiful.

I returned downstairs and began the long wait.

**

Hours ticked by. My feet began to ache, and the excitement slowly curdled into anxiety. It was now twelve-thirty. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving me dizzy with hunger and exhaustion. I felt foolish standing there in my expensive dress next to cold food and unlit candles.

Irritated and worried, I realized I didn't even have my own husband's phone number. I dialed Dylan instead.

“Dylan, do you know where he is?” I asked as soon as he picked up.

“Direct to the point, huh?” he teased, though his voice sounded tired. “He’s your husband; you should know.”

“I’m serious, Dylan,” I groaned, leaning against the counter. “He’s not home yet. I’m worried.”

I heard him sigh heavily on the other end. “Don’t worry too much. He’s probably lying half-unconscious in a club somewhere.”

My heart sank. The image of him wasted in a dark club, surrounded by strangers, made my stomach churn. But then, I heard a commotion in the hallway outside the door.

“You’re wrong, Mister,” I told Dylan proudly, my heart leaping. “My Ethan is home. He isn't at any club.”

I hung up and hurriedly struck the lighter, touching it to the candle wicks until the room glowed with a warm, golden light. I rushed to the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. I wanted to be the first thing he saw.

The second I swung the door open, the world seemed to tilt. The ground slipped from beneath my feet as I stared at the figures standing in the hallway.