My Husband Chose His Mistress

Driving back home, tears blurred my vision and streamed down my face.

Haunting images raced through my mind: Skyla's blood-soaked body, my mother's departure, and Zuri Morgan’s triumphant smirk.

I felt like a volcano on the brink of eruption, pressure building inside me. Once home, I flung the birthday gift I had prepared for Princeton onto the floor, watching it shatter into pieces.

Anger surged through me, planting seeds of resentment deep in my heart. The wedding photo on the wall, where I seemed to be the only one smiling, mocked my failures and made me feel utterly foolish.

I grabbed a kitchen knife and thrust it down, the sharp blade slicing between us.

It tore everything apart, mirroring how our relationship had become irreparably shattered. Madness swept over me, and I dragged the knife across my arm with force.

Crimson drops splattered onto the floor, a sharp pain shooting through me, but it still felt insufficient.

As I contemplated cutting deeper, my gaze fell upon Skyla's photograph, his joyful smile beaming back at me.

In that moment, my heart wavered, my hand trembling with indecision over whether to continue or to let go.

In a haze, I imagined Skyla running towards me, arms wide open, sweetly calling for his mom.

Ultimately, I chose to set the knife down.

Skyla was always so perceptive; from the moment he joined our family, he sensed the tension between Princeton and me.

Even at his young age, he tried to mend our relationship, never giving up, even when faced with Princeton's cold demeanor.

Looking at Skyla’s photo, the turmoil within me finally settled.

Self-harm offered no relief, only leaving a scar that would never truly heal.

Before Princeton returned home, I had already organized the room.

When he came back, I carried on as usual—helping him change into his slippers and hanging up his coat. He seemed like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. The man who could charm and navigate any business meeting now stood speechless.

Breaking the heavy silence, I spoke first, "I get it. She just got back from overseas and needs to establish her connections. You want to help her."

My voice was calm, as gentle as ever. A look of surprise flashed in his eyes, and when our eyes met, I kept my warm and reassuring smile.

After a long pause, he looked away, but then suddenly pulled me close, kissing me with a passion that left me breathless. So, he could still show such intensity for me. His eyes were misty, and he gazed at me intently, "Tiana, I love you."

I met Princeton's gaze with a soft smile, "I know, and I love you too."

The mingling scent of lilies and men's cologne made me uneasy. This love born out of guilt felt hollow...

On our wedding anniversary, Princeton, who rarely cooked, prepared an entire feast.

He embraced me warmly, "Tiana, do you like it? I made your favorite pulled pork with a spicy kick."

He didn't know that I can no longer handle spicy food. Even before, I never really enjoyed it; I only pretended to for his sake.

I smiled, saying nothing.

He excitedly slipped a plane ticket into my hands. "Tomorrow afternoon, we're heading to the Alps. We'll have a few days to really enjoy ourselves."

His smile was gentle, his eyes filled with anticipation.

But just then, Zuri Morgan called.

The change in Princeton's expression was immediate. He quickly stood up to leave, and at that moment, I felt the undeniable influence Zuri held over him.

I grasped his wrist tightly, trying to make him stay.

A flicker of guilt passed through his eyes as he gently released my hand, saying, "I'll be back soon."

As I watched him hurry away, the smile vanished from my face.

It felt like a hand had seized my heart, tearing my soul apart.

Why is it that when faced with a choice between Zuri and me, you always choose her?

The roses on the table seemed to mock my pitiful efforts. In a surge of frustration, I swept everything off the table.

What was supposed to be a beautiful wedding anniversary was reduced to a scene of utter chaos...