I couldn't even fool myself anymore.
Even if I told him I could forgive everything, that I could keep playing deaf and blind, I knew Lucas would still leave me.
Wouldn't he?
After more than two years of marriage, I knew Lucas was a man with an insane sex drive. Every time we fucked, he'd come two or three times, working me over for hours. When I was too exhausted and begged him to stop, he'd just say "almost there, baby" and keep going. Several times I'd passed out, only to be fucked awake again, then carried to the shower in a boneless heap, no memory of how I fell asleep afterward. Often I'd wake up in the morning with his cock still inside me, and the slightest movement would make him swell up again...
We'd made love countless times, but never once like tonight—a quick fuck and then he bolted to the bathroom like he was running away. We'd been separated for over two months. Even a regular guy would be climbing the walls.
Only one explanation: someone else was already taking care of his needs.
The more I thought about it, the colder I felt.
This chill seeped from my bones, more devastating than post-orgasm emptiness.
I hated my body for eagerly serving a man who trampled my dignity. During that savage fuck, it completely ignored how my soul was screaming and crying—it just shamelessly begged Lucas for pleasure. It made me feel like an idiot, like a junkie wagging her tail for another hit.
But at least it was the last time.
That thought loosened the knot in my throat.
Right. Consider it a goodbye gift.
I could treat this as a meaningless one-night stand, a release of physical pressure. Since I was about to sever this lovelessmarriage, one last indulgence in the pleasure he gave me could be Lucas's physical compensation.
A sharp notification cut through my spiral.
Who'd be texting this late?
I followed the sound. Lucas's phone had slipped from his pants pocket, screen lit up with a name: Vivian.
What did she want with him?
My fingers twitched. Logan had said if I wanted more leverage in the divorce, I needed evidence of his affair. Phone records counted. Sure, I didn't want to drag out the divorce, but still, this meant as Lucas's wife, I had every legal right to look at his phone, didn't I?
The thought slithered into my brain like a snake. My heart started racing.
I'd never once thought about checking Lucas's phone, even though in two years of marriage, he'd answered my calls maybe a handful of times. But I'd clung to that pathetic shred of decency, believing privacy was an untouchable line.
But Vivian had crossed it.
She hadn't just looked at Lucas's phone. She'd recited my texts to him word for word.
God, why didn't anyone give a damn about my privacy?
Marital trust? Lucas shredded that long ago.
I glanced at the bathroom, then bent down and grabbed the phone. The message on the screen was hidden, just showing "iMessage."
I tapped it. The lock screen asked for a password.
My finger hovered over the screen. After a pause, I entered the first set of numbers—Lucas's birthday.
The screen vibrated slightly. Wrong.
I hesitated, then entered our wedding anniversary.
Wrong again. I was angry for a second, but mostly at myself for even thinking he'd remember our anniversary.
