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That day when I went after her, I’d had enough of her shit. She never even looked in my direction when I came, not even when I made a point of getting out of the car, almost as if she thought I was beneath her. By that point, she and Justin weren’t even fighting, though he was always the one doing the fighting before and during the divorce.
I was tired of her disrespect and more so her damn kids’. Whenever they were around, Justin never had time for me; always up their ass like it was made of gold. I hated even more the way they were always asking for her when they were with us. Every little thing would start them crying and calling for her, and Justin would call her to calm them down over the phone.
The way I saw it, that was too much time spent talking to her, but when I complained, all he’d say was that his kids came first. Like, what the fuck? I’m supposed to come first. As far as I was concerned, the kids were an extension of her, a reminder of the life he had with her, and that was something I couldn’t live with.
But I took a wrong step that day that cost me. She got me trespassed, which meant I couldn’t come onto her property without facing heavy consequences, something I didn’t think about until it was too late, and it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.
I’d only started to notice in the last few times we’d been there that something about her was changing. She didn’t look tired and haggard like I expected her to, not the way I imagined her being after I stole her man and left her with three young kids to raise.
In fact, she looked younger, fresher, more alive. Even when I attended parties at this home in the past, there was always a look of tiredness about her, as if life was kicking her ass. But she’d started looking better and better each time we came to get the kids.
I, of course, thought she was doing it to get Justin back, but she didn’t treat him any better than she treated me. It was hard to believe that those two had been married and had known each other for as long as they had the way she just acted like he was a stranger and not the man she shared kids with.
She never argued and never allowed the kids to be rude to him, though she didn’t care how they treated me, but what I didn’t realize was how her actions were affecting Justin. The more she ignored him and stuck to the custody handoff like a professional hired to do a job, the more irate he became.
In the weeks leading up to me being trespassed, he’d become more and more obsessed, and all of our weekends were spent with him going on and on about her while running around behind her kids, and I was too distracted myself by her behavior to notice the danger.
Once she got me trespassed, it was like needles under my skin each time he left to go to her place. It was bad enough that he hadn’t moved me in with him as yet; always promises of soon. I don’t see why the kids should care if I lived there or not since they’d already met me, but that was the excuse he’d used.
Then he started disappearing every lunch break with the excuse of going to business meetings in the beginning, but soon he stopped even giving me a reason. It was obvious that he no longer cared what I thought because if he did, he’d have realized that since we’d used our lunch breaks to fuck that with him disappearing like that, I’d suspect that he was doing the same thing again, only with someone else this time.
But when I searched through his phone, I found nothing, and there were no other signs of anything going on. But then she started coming to the office, and I got suspicious, which, as it turned out, was for the best because that’s how I learned that they were fucking, by listening in at the door. That was the day everything came crashing down around me, and my life started spiraling out of control.
Now I’m here at the airport trying to find them in a sea of people and strange faces with a gut full of rocks and fear.
THE BITCH
The more I sat there waiting, the more enraged I became; I was seething when I recalled all that had happened in the last few months. After the trespass, things just kept going downhill more and more. Once I learned about their affair, though, is when things really started coming undone.
I couldn’t believe he was cheating on me or that I didn’t see it coming. Sure, he’d been acting strange when it came to her and the kids, but I thought that was only normal since they’d been together for so long, and it would take some time to get used to the new changes in his life.
I started stalking her social media even harder once I was no longer allowed to go for pickups because she’d gone from barely posting to posting almost daily, which was good for me because I got to keep tabs on her that way.
There was nothing about the two of them, just a lot of shit about him spending time with their brats, but I noticed more and more that I couldn’t reach him when he went to pick the kids up, and he was taking longer and longer to boot to get back to me.
Then she started answering his phone and texts, giving me bullshit excuses about him spending time with the kids. I was a fool; I should’ve put my foot down and made him do something, should’ve made it so that she never saw him alone again, but I thought because we were still having intimacy, that things were still working in my favor.
And then he stopped. It was like a switch was turned, and he became a different person. He didn’t invite me over, there were no more floral deliveries to my place every Thursday like I’d demanded and a whole lot more seemed to just change overnight.
The worst part was the end of our sex life. It was the only power I had over him, after all, but he just stopped even touching me in passing, which made me lash out at him in anger. The fights we had were ones that I used to imagine them having when she found out about us.
I felt gutted, deranged even each time he had to see her, that’s why I’d thrown caution to the wind and started driving by his place while he was there for pickup. I don’t know how many times I wanted to go knock on her door and drag him out of there, law or no law.
Then, that day, while listening from outside of his office door, my suspicions were confirmed, and I felt as if my life was over. That smug look she gave me that day haunted my nights to the point I wanted to kill her. I never felt so much humiliation as I did that following week when all anyone in the office would talk about was how great it was that they were back together.
I’d ignored the fact that most of my coworkers knew her from those parties at their home that came to an end after the divorce. I’d forgotten that most of them liked her, so when I first started hearing the whispers, it was a shock.
I had literally overlooked them as humans because they played no part in my plans and were insignificant to me. But that first week, I realized they hated me, had hated me all along for bringing up that perfect marriage. They were all acting like those college bitches in their cliques.
Still, I wasn’t ready to give up. I didn’t get what I wanted out of her the first time. Maybe this time I will when I snatch him again. Maybe she was weaving dreams of mending her broken family, her tormented life. It would be even sweeter this time because I knew more about her and had more interactions, so it would be easier to imagine her stupid face while I fucked him and took him away for the second time.
That could’ve worked, too, if he’d ever given me the chance. But when I confronted him about the affair, he didn’t even have the grace to lie or try to explain and apologize. He looked me in the fucking face and told me he wanted her back. That he missed his family and we were a mistake.
This motherfucker had the nerve to tell me that she was the love of his life and that he’d spend the rest of his life making this up to her and his kids. But what about me? I asked. And he just shrugged. Just shrugged like the last three years of my life were nothing. Like all the hard work I put into this, it was in vain.
I would’ve cut his eyes out that night, but he was gone before I could do anything or say anything more. I remember screaming loud enough for the neighbor to knock on my wall and tell me to knock it off. That’s when I realized that I was alone, that I had no one to turn to.
I had no friends from my past. Not the earlier years or the years in college. The people I had made associations with at the job had turned their backs to me after the affair came to light. I hadn’t spoken to my parents in years, hadn’t even thought of them really. Not that they would be of any help.
