Mistress Steals My Dreams

The steam from Jayson's shower drifted through our bedroom as I sat on the edge of our king-sized bed, staring at the phone he'd carelessly left on his nightstand. Ten years. Ten years of marriage, and he'd forgotten his phone on our anniversary morning.

The screen lit up with a notification, and my heart stopped.

*Good morning, handsome. Last night was incredible. Can't wait to see you again today. 💕 - A*

My fingers trembled as I picked up the device. Another message appeared.

*I'm still thinking about what you whispered in my ear... 😘*

The phone felt like a burning coal in my palm. I scrolled up, my chest tightening with each message I read. Weeks of flirtation. Pet names. Heart emojis. And that signature - 'A' - like she was too important, too intimate to need a full name.

*Baby, you make me feel so alive. I never knew it could be like this.*

*Can't stop thinking about your hands on my skin.*

*You're going to leave her for me, aren't you? You promised.*

The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam. Jayson emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets still clinging to his shoulders. For a moment, he looked like the man I'd fallen in love with at seventeen - lean, strong, with that easy smile that had once made my knees weak.

"Happy anniversary, Mags," he said, moving toward his dresser. "Sorry I'm running late. Big presentation today."

I held up his phone. "Who's 'A'?"

He froze, his back still turned to me. The silence stretched between us like a chasm. When he finally faced me, his expression had shifted - guarded, defensive.

"What are you doing going through my phone?"

"It was buzzing. I thought it might be important." My voice sounded steadier than I felt. "Who is she, Jayson?"

He ran a hand through his damp hair - a gesture I'd seen a thousand times when he was nervous. "It's not what you think."

"Then tell me what it is." I stood up, the phone still clutched in my hand. "Because what I think is that my husband is having an affair."

"Maggie, come on. You're being paranoid." He moved closer, reaching for the phone, but I stepped back.

"'You make me feel so alive'? 'Your hands on my skin'? This is paranoia?"

His jaw tightened. "Aspen is a colleague. Sometimes we grab drinks after work. She's... she gets a little flirty when she's had too much wine. It doesn't mean anything."

"Aspen." The name tasted bitter on my tongue. "Aspen Moreno?"

Something flickered in his eyes - surprise that I knew her last name, maybe. Or guilt. "How do you—"

"I've heard you mention her. The new marketing consultant." I scrolled through more messages, my stomach churning. "Is this why you've been working so late? Is this why you missed dinner with my parents last week?"

"Maggie, you're overreacting. It's just—"

"Just what? Just emotional cheating? Just the woman