Page 2 of Capri

I just want to breathe. To wake up happy and not feel like a boulder is resting on my shoulders. The pressure to be a supportive wife.

I want a divorce.

I’m too young to be dreading the next fifty years with my husband because I’mthatmiserable.

I deserve that, right? To be happy?

But Drew hasn’t exactly done any?—

What was that?

I hear a slight shuffling upstairs, and it causes goosebumps to spread across my skin. That’s weird…

Since I don’t have a husband available to send up there and check, it looks like I’ll be my own savior tonight. I hastily grab a steak knife from the block and make my way to the staircase that leads to four bedrooms.

I’m not super threatening in size, but maybe this metal edge will buy me some time. Fend the intruder off a little, at least enough to get away.

I creep up the wooden stairs, desperately trying to stay quiet.

The shuffling doesn’t let up, accompanied by a soft banging. Is that also…heavy breathing?

“Drew?” I whisper hoarsely, calling to see if he’s here. Maybe he got home early and thinks I’m upstairs. Surely he saw my car parked out front.

Yeah, that’s it…he thinks I’m in the shower or something. I got home from my parents’ house later than usual, so that would make sense.

Deciding to trust it’s him, I reach the top of the stairs and abandon the knife at the cusp of the railing. My husband is home before I’m asleep for once, and that’s something to be at least a little grateful for.

Rounding the corner to our bedroom and seeing the soft light of our lamp has me anticipating seeing him. I feel horrible even saying that, but I can’t help but think maybe tonight will be different. Maybe he won’t be so tired that he’ll actually ask me about my day.

Hold me. Touch me. God, it’s been so long since I’ve been touched.

“Hey, babe—” I push through the door, expecting to find my husband getting ready for bed and waiting for me. Except, that’s the last thing I see.

No, because in front of me is my husband of five years thrusting into my best friend. My very naked best friend.

“Fuck,” Drew’s heavy groan echoes in the large room.

I don’t think he heard me call out to him. My insides are fuming and my body is shaking. I think I’m in shock because why in the hell is Vivian fucking my husband on my bed? And why do they look so damn comfortable doing it?

Now, I’m so mad it’s laughable. Every pitied thought I’ve ever had for this man just flew out the window. He deserves my hatred right now and I’m about to be a petty little bitch.

Because I’m a petty bitch who just got scorned and it’s time to retaliate.

Although I haven’t been standing here for long, I’d rather not watch Vivian enjoy the man I trusted with my heart for far too long.

I knock on the door, smile fake, and would you look at that? Moans evaporate into thin air, and there’s not a thrust to be seen. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Drew launches up, shuffling in place and trying to hide his limp dick. I laugh out loud. Never thought my husband would be hiding his dick from me but it seems we haven’t been on the same page for a while now.

“So sorry to interrupt,” I tell them, venom in my tone. “But it looks like I was late to the party.”

Drew looks thrown off, likely because he’s never seen this side of me. The side that’s been deceived by two of the people I care about most in this world.

I hope he enjoys it.

“What’s she doing here, Drew?” Vivian has the audacity to ask, wrapping herself in my Egyptian cotton sheet.

Oops. Accidentally laughed again. “This is my home. It seems you found the wrong door and a sad dick to let in.”

---