The betrayal

★★★★

"You are lying to me!" Edith cried. Her tears gushed as she faced her horrible mother-in-law, fury twisting in her heart.

"You are fabricating everything. From the day I arrived at this house, you have done everything possible to make my life miserable. Don't pretend otherwise!"

She raised her finger at her mother-in-law and unleashed all the pain she had kept hidden within her until today.

"Well, you are not the choice for my son," Freya said coolly, "how could I like you? You were never his choice. If my late husband had not forced him into this marriage, my dear Jamie wouldn't spare you a second glance."

"But where is my fault in this?" Edith shouted. "I didn't choose your son. All I am doing is to have a perfect marriage with him and love this family, but in exchange, what am I getting?" Edith clenched her fists tight. "Nothing but endless tears."

"It is your fault, darling," Freya smiled, the corner of her lips moved upward a little- a smile born of cruel satisfaction.

"Your existence is a curse," Freya took a couple of steps to Edith, showing no pity as she continued her slurs, "Being a daughter of a poor family is a curse. Jamie is a kind-hearted man, that's all. This is why he had never told you how much your presence irked him."

Edith's eyes spread wide in disbelief, pain crashing through her. She released her fist and forced herself to speak, "He said he loves me."

Freya let out a soft mocking smile, "Did he?" Her eyes gleamed, "Then perhaps you should ask him what he is doing at the Generic Hotel with Cassandra Martin."

Edith froze.

For a moment, her tears stopped. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her chest rose sharply, a shaky breath scraping through her throat.

"No," she whispered. "You are lying." Her head shook on its own.

"Sure, sweetheart," Freya said lightly. "I am not forcing you to believe this. I also want you to catch a glimpse of the reality. I would hate to be the villain of your story" Freya added, a clear thrill reflected in her eyes.

In that instant, Edith understood that Freya was not bluffing. This was not another mind game. The truth hit harder than any insult.

She dragged her trembling fingers across her face, wiping away her tears, and without looking back, she turned and ran toward the exit.

Seated in the back of the cab, Edith stared blankly at the passing streets, her thoughts drifting back to the reason she had been taken from her home to marry Jamie. She had been told she was chosen, that the family wanted her, that Jamie would cherish her.

She remembered the night vividly.

Jamie had knocked on her door, intoxicated, his footsteps unsteady. Their marriage was nothing like that of a formal couple; he had never once crossed a boundary.

The moment she opened the door, Jamie stumbled forward, his arms circling her as he pulled her into a sudden embrace. His weight sagged against her, his face resting on her shoulder.

In a slurred whisper, warm against her skin, he muttered, "I love you, Edith." And throughout the night he claimed her again and again. Edith could feel it was pure love and care.

From that night on, love had bloomed wildly in her chest, unrestrained and hopeful.

"Madam, we have arrived!" The driver spoke aloud when he found Edith zoned out.

"Yes, yes!" Edith replied hurriedly. She stepped out of the cab, paid the fare, and shut the door behind her.

Forcing the ache deep into her chest, Edith hurried into the hotel. She paused at the reception desk, steadying her breath before asking, "May I know which room Mr Jamie Anderson is staying in?"

"Just a moment, ma'am," the receptionist replied, her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard.

"Umm... Mr Anderson is in room 809, on the second floor," she said, lifting her gaze.

But Edith was already walking away, her footsteps quick and determined leaving the receptionist watching her retreat with a slight frown.

Panicked, Edith came to a stop in front of room 809. Her hand lifted, hovering inches from the door, hesitation locking her in place.

At the back of her mind she knew her mother-in-law could be lying, that this might be nothing more than a carefully orchestrated scheme. For all she knew, strangers could be sleeping inside that room.

Yes, no matter how hard she tried to reason with herself that pressing weight in her chest refused to lift. Logic failed her as doubt clawed deeper.

It would not subside, could not, until she saw the truth with her own eyes.

She knocked-just once. A light tap.

The door shifted slightly beneath her knuckles.

It was open.

Holding her breath, Edith pushed the door inward, her lungs tightening as if the air had been stolen from her.

The room was brightly lit, far too bright, as a result, her gaze was drawn instantly to the bed.

She saw the intertwined bodies, both of them naked.

The woman straddled him, her movements frantic. Her mouth pressed his. Edith could not see the man's face.

As her head was bursting with questions, her eyes fell on the grey quote play crumbled on the floor close to the door. The same coat Jamie had worn that morning before leaving for work.

A sharp pain pierced her chest, so sudden it felt like her heart had been wrenched from its place.

Coincidence, a voice whispered weakly. Anyone could own a coat like that.

But beside it lay a handkerchief. White! Familiar. Her breath shattered.

She had stitched a small heart into one corner herself carefully before slipping it into his pocket.

Her legs gave way slightly as she reached out and pulled the door shut, a soft click echoing far too loudly in her ears. Her vision blurred, the room spinning as her body trembled violently.

She swayed, barely managing to stay upright.

Then, on sheer instinct, Edith turned and walked, straight toward the stairs. Those silent tears were a testament to the pain she had never known.