On our third wedding anniversary, I prepared a table full of dishes, hoping to talk to Freddie.
I wanted to keep the baby, but I didn’t see him.
Instead, I walked in and saw him and Imogen wrapped together on the office sofa.
“Bella, who allowed you to walk in without knocking!”
“Leave!” Freddie grabbed the clothes on the floor and covered the woman in his arms.
Imogen stared at me with a helpless look, like a scared little animal.
That day, I ran out in shock.
I even remembered to shut the door behind me.
When Freddie came home that night, the whole place was in chaos.
I threw the food and the cake onto the ground, ripped up every picture of Freddie and me and broke anything I could reach.
Freddie stepped through the mess and sat down in front of me.
In the end, I was the one who spoke first, asking him when it began.
“You don’t want the answer.”
“Bella, wouldn’t it be easier if you stayed home as Mrs. Williams?”
Freddie stayed just as far away and his words hit me like something cold.
I lost control and called Imogen right in front of him.
Freddie grabbed my phone and smashed it apart. “Are you out of your mind? She has no idea!”
The room seemed to freeze.