Betrayed by my Ex, Married his Boss

I took a quick look at the wall clock, 9:17PM

Where is he?

I had eaten dinner already, alone as usual, at this point it was becoming normal to not have him at the dinning table. Taking a glance at his food,well served and untouched, looking back at me, the food already grew cold. I murmured with annoyance, tapping my fingers on the table trying to calm my nerves

The routine of late coming from work was becoming awfully frequent these past few weeks, but he always had something to dish out as excuse, be it having to cover for a colleague or having extra meeting or traffic, Micheal never disappointed in having a comeback to when I questioned his tardiness coming back from work, but it had gotten to his stage where I doubt I was going to buy those bullcrap anymore.

Picking up my phone, I dialed his number, no answer, tried it a couple more times and still no answer, rather I got sent to the voicemail, my annoyance became frustration.

Two years into this marriage and the bond between me and my husband kept on fading rather than getting stronger, it was scary. We were never the lovey dovey type, but at the very least we talked, had fun and laughed sometimes, but now? We barely spoke unless it as necessary, this wasn't my definition of marriage and I definitely didn't like the direction we were headed.

Maybe it was my fault.

Maybe because I hadn’t given him a child yet.

My throat tightened as the memories from the last family meeting lingered in, Two years with no baby nor pregnancy, the words of his mother echoed in my mind, my belly became unsettled at the sudden thought of this.

"A wife’s duty is to give her husband an heir."

A soul-crushing statement that had haunted me ever since.

I shook it off and scrolled through my contacts, tapping on Evelyn’s name. My best friend. Also, Michael’s assistant. If anyone knew where he was, it would be her.

She picked up immediately. “Adaline?”

“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Is Michael still at the office?”

A pause. Then, “Um… no. He left a while ago.”

My grip tightened around the phone. “Oh.”

“Why?” Evelyn’s voice was careful.

I forced a small laugh. “No reason. Just checking.”

Silence stretched between us before she spoke again, softer this time.

“Come meet me at the bar. You need a drink.”

I hesitated. Going out wasn’t exactly appealing, but sitting here alone, waiting for a husband who clearly had better things to do, wasn’t either.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll be there soon.”

Before heading to the bar, I decided to stop by Michael’s office. Maybe Evelyn was mistaken. Maybe he really was working late and just hadn’t seen my calls.

But when I arrived, the receptionist barely looked up before saying, “Mr. Pratama isn’t in.”

So Evelyn was telling the truth.

I clenched my jaw, murmuring a polite “Thank you,” and left.

As I stepped outside into the cold night air, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach.

Where was he?

I drove through the city, gripping the steering wheel. The road lights flickered past my window, a blur that I never paid attention to. I should have been home, curled up in bed, waiting for Michael to walk through the door like I always did.

But tonight, I couldn’t stand waiting.

Evelyn’s invitation had been unexpected, but maybe it was exactly what I needed. A distraction. A change of scenery. Anything to silence the thoughts screaming in my head.

Still, I wasn’t looking forward to it.

I hated parties.

The loud music. The suffocating mix of sweat and alcohol. The way people lost themselves so easily in the noise. It never made sense to me. Evelyn always teased me about it, said I needed to loosen up.

But I wasn’t uptight. I just didn’t see the appeal.

Even in college, when everyone else went clubbing, I preferred quiet nights with a book. Or simple dinners with Michael. Back then, he’d smile at me across the table, reach for my hand, and say, "I love that you’re not like other girls."

Now, that same man barely looked at me.

My stomach twisted. I pressed my foot harder on the gas. I just wanted this night to be over.

When I reached the bar, the parking lot was packed. Cars lined up haphazardly, people stumbling toward the entrance, laughter spilling into the night.

I sighed. This wasn’t just a regular night at the bar.

This was a party. A big one.

And I hated it.

I sat in my car for a moment, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Every instinct told me to turn around, call Evelyn, and make up an excuse. Maybe I should just go home. Maybe, for once, Michael would be there.

But another part of me—the part that was tired of waiting, tired of feeling like I was second place in my own marriage—made me open the car door.

The moment I stepped out, the heavy bass from inside vibrated through the ground.

I didn’t belong here.

That was my first thought as I walked toward the entrance.

Inside, it was worse than I expected.

The air reeked of alcohol and sweat. Bodies pressed together on the dance floor, moving in ways that blurred the line between dancing and something much more intimate. Dim lighting. Flashing neon signs. A sea of strangers drowning in liquor and bad decisions.

What am I doing here?

I wasn’t dressed for this. While the other women wore tight dresses and heels, I was in jeans and a blouse. No makeup, just a swipe of lip balm. I looked lost. Out of place.

I pushed through the crowd, already regretting my decision.

My phone buzzed in my hand. My heart jumped. Maybe it was Michael.

No new messages.

Of course not.

Jaw clenched, I shoved my phone into my pocket—just as a drunken man stumbled into my path.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he slurred, whiskey on his breath. He grinned, eyes hazy. “Be my girlfriend for the night?”

I barely resisted the urge to recoil.

“No, thanks.” I stepped aside.

He swayed, still smiling. “Come on, don’t be shy. You’re too beautiful to be alone.”

I sighed. I really don’t have time for this.

“I’m married,” I said, flashing my wedding ring.

His grin widened. “Married women are the best kind.”

Disgust crawled up my spine. I pushed past him, patience running thin.

Where are you? I texted Evelyn.

Her reply was instant.

Upstairs. Room 899.

I frowned. Upstairs?

I knew what kind of rooms were up there. Private suites. The kind meant for privacy.

A strange feeling twisted in my gut. But I told myself I was overreacting. Maybe she just needed a quiet space.

Maybe I needed to stop overthinking.

Taking a deep breath, I climbed the stairs.

Room 899.

The door was slightly ajar.

I reached for the handle. Hesitated. Then, gently, I pushed it open.

And that’s when I heard it.

"Baby, go faster. Cum for me."

Michael’s voice.

I froze.

And then I saw them.

Michael. My husband.

Evelyn. My best friend.

Tangled in the sheets.

Michael’s hands on her. His lips against her skin.

A sharp, cold pain exploded in my chest.

For weeks, I had wondered.

Now, I knew.

I had been replaced.

And it had been happening right under my nose.