The Day I Caught Him Cheating, I Married Another

The sound coming from the apartment wasn't the television.

Kiley Love stood in the hallway, her fingers white-knuckled around the handle of her dripping umbrella. Rainwater pooled around her cheap sneakers, seeping into her socks, but the cold dampness on her skin was nothing compared to the chill spreading through her chest.

It was a groan. A distinct, rhythmic, guttural sound that she knew.

She took a breath that rattled in her lungs. It's the TV, she told herself. Javon is watching a movie. He's alone.

But her heart was hammering against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Her hand shook violently as she slid the key into the lock. The metal scraped against metal. Click.

She pushed the door open.

The smell hit her first. It was the scent of musk, stale pizza, and a cloying, floral perfume that didn't belong to her. In the small entryway, a pair of red stilettos lay on their sides, discarded carelessly next to Javon's striped tie-the one she had bought him for his interview last week.

Kiley didn't want to move, but her legs carried her forward on autopilot. The hallway was dim, the only light spilling from the bedroom door that was left slightly ajar.

She saw them.

The sheets she had laundered two days ago were tangled around two bodies. The pale, sweaty back of a woman arched off the mattress. Javon was above her, his hands gripping the woman's hips.

Kiley felt her stomach lurch. The bile rose in her throat, burning and acidic.

Her grip on the umbrella failed. It slipped from her numb fingers and clattered onto the hardwood floor with a sound like a gunshot in the heavy silence.

Javon's head snapped up.

For a second, there was only the sound of heavy breathing. Javon's eyes widened, panic flashing across his face, but it was quickly replaced by something darker. Annoyance.

The woman beneath him let out a sharp, piercing shriek. She scrambled backward, yanking the duvet up to cover her chest. Her hair was a mess, her lipstick smeared, but her eyes locked onto Kiley with a look that wasn't shame. It was a smirk. Amalia.

Kiley felt the room spin. She took a step into the bedroom, her knees threatening to buckle.

Javon sat up, not bothering to cover himself. He ran a hand over his face and let out a huff of breath.

"Do you not know how to knock?" he barked.

The question was so absurd, so devoid of guilt, that Kiley stopped breathing for a moment.

"Knock?" she whispered. "This is my apartment, Javon. My name is on the lease."

"Yeah, well, you're interrupting," he sneered, swinging his legs off the bed.

The rage hit her then. It wasn't a slow burn; it was an explosion. It started in her toes and shot up her spine, hot and blinding.

She lunged.

Javon saw it coming. He stood up, towering over her, his expression twisting into a scowl. He