Caught in her web, Peter’s anger turned toward me. But he never reached my door. Distracted by Millie’s whispered reassurances and feigned vulnerability, he succumbed to her manipulations with ease. She leaned into him, her lips pressing against him until his attention blurred, lost in her embrace.
Only a single wall divided us. On one side, my life fading away, an agony he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—acknowledge. On the other, my husband and his lover entwined, passionate, oblivious.
My heart ached, feeling as if it were being torn from within and my spirit swirled, helplessly trapped between the two.
Hatred surged within me—deep, resentful, consuming. How foolish I had been to believe, to give so much of myself for a man so utterly undeserving.
Tears pricked the corners of my lifeless eyes, slipping down in silent, mingling with the blood that had already sealed my fate.
Just as he was about to cross a line he couldn’t return from, Peter gently nudged Millie aside with his elbow.
He took a few hurried steps to the sink, splashing cold water over his face, letting it trickle down as he clenched his fists. He twisted his arm inward, gripping it tightly in a visible attempt to regain composure.