Chapter 3

Mia wasn't Ethan's first mistress. The first time I caught him cheating was on my birthday. I'd set up a candlelit dinner and put on a new dress, waiting for him to come home. I waited on the couch from the afternoon until late at night. When he finally pushed the door open, he looked startled by the setup before remembering it was my birthday. Ethan looked awkward and tried to cover up the fact that he'd forgotten about it. So, he just handed me the mango cake he was holding. He'd even forgotten I was allergic to mangoes. Something in my gut screamed at me. I jumped to my feet and grabbed his collar, pulling it open to reveal a fresh hickey on his collarbone. That was when everything broke. I tore through the house, smashing whatever I could reach. I cried and demanded to know why he'd cheated and kept slapping him. And how did Ethan react? He dropped to his knees and begged me to forgive him. After that, I became paranoid and suspicious. He grew increasingly impatient with me and seldom came home. Then, Mia came along. The arguments were just as messy, but this time, Ethan didn't give in. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Listen, Olivia Boyle. I'm not breaking up with Mia. I like her. Just play the part of my wife, and I promise she won't threaten your position." My chest felt like it was being ripped apart. The pain was so sharp I thought I might collapse. So, I said in a hoarse voice, "Ethan, let's get a divorce." He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray and replied coldly, "Not happening. Between you and me, the only way out is death. Divorce isn't an option. Don't even think about it. If you still want your mother to live, you'll put up with it." My mother was critically ill at the time. I was just an insignificant pianist in an orchestra, nowhere near able to afford her medical bills. The staggering ICU bills were all paid by Ethan. I never imagined that would become his leverage over me. After that, every day felt like torture. I watched him attend various banquets with Mia, watched them look like the perfect couple while I seemed like the shameful mistress no one could acknowledge. I swallowed handfuls of antidepressants and lay awake the entire night. After another attempt at cutting my wrists, Ethan slapped me across the face. And something snapped awake inside me. I asked myself why I did that. I wasn't the one in the wrong. Why should I be the one suffering? If Ethan couldn't give me happiness, I'd find it elsewhere. That was when I met Kyle, who was gentler and more interesting than Ethan. Most importantly, he listened to everything I said. Just like Ethan, I, too, had a lover now.