2. Four Months?

Marissa POV

I woke up to a cold, damp pillow. My face felt tight, my eyes swollen nearly shut from the "hot tears" that had slammed down my cheeks until I finally passed out from exhaustion. The house was deathly quiet....no sound of Ethan’s humming, no scent of morning coffee. Just the lingering ghost of yesterday’s wreckage.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand. The screen was a graveyard of notifications

.

Ethan (6:42 AM): Please talk to me, Marissa.

Ethan (7:15 AM): I’m at the office. I didn’t sleep a wink. I’m so sorry.

Ethan (8:03 AM): I sent you something. Please don't throw it away.

I swiped past them, my stomach turning, and saw three missed calls from Hailey. I hit dial, needing a voice that didn't sound like a lie.

"So, how is our favorite little housewife doing today?" Hailey’s voice boomed through the speaker, vibrant and full of life. "I’ve been calling you for ages! I have the juiciest gist about this new guy I met at the gym, but you weren’t answering? Are you still in bed, you lucky girl?"

"Terrible," I responded. My voice was raspy, stripped of its usual cheerful lilt.

"What?" she hollered.

The silence on my end was deafening. Usually, I was the "dumb and happy" wife, always eager to hear her stories while I gushed about a new sourdough recipe or a curtain fabric I’d picked out. I had spent three years perfecting the art of being a homemaker, never realizing I was just decorating a prison.

"You heard me, Hails," I said, my grip tightening on the phone. "I said terrible."

"But why? Did Ethan do something? Are you sick? Wait... are you pregnant and in a total mood? Answer me, girl! I’m about to get worried to death!"

"It’s a long story," I whispered, staring at the ceiling. "I’ll drop by your place when you’re back from work, okay? I need... I just need to get out of this house."

"Okay, babe. I’ll be expecting you. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it."

I tossed the phone aside and dragged myself out of bed. Every movement felt like I was wading through lead. I stripped the sheets....the same sheets he had likely laid on while thinking of her and threw them into the laundry room. Then, I retreated into the bathroom.

I stayed in the shower for an hour. I let the water run as hot as I could stand, crying until my throat was sore and the steam filled the room like a shroud. By the time I stepped out, I felt hollowed out. Empty.

I headed to the kitchen to try and eat, but the doorbell rang, echoing through the hollow house. When I opened it, there was no one there...just a massive, ostentatious bouquet of red roses sitting on the porch.

My favorite.

I looked at them, and for a second, I felt a flicker of the old Marissa. Then I remembered. When was the last time he’d gone an extra mile to send flowers? When was the last time he wasn't "too tired" or "too busy" to show me he cared?

I picked up the small card tucked into the blooms.

Marissa, my heart is breaking knowing I’ve hurt you. These are a small reminder of the beauty you brought into my life. I know I don’t deserve it, but please... let me make this right. I love you more than the company, more than anything. — Ethan.

I stared at the slanted, familiar handwriting. It literally does us no good, he had said yesterday. He was right. These flowers did me no good.

With a surge of cold fury, I didn't even take them inside. I walked straight to the large trash bin at the curb and dumped the entire package—roses, vase, and note...into the garbage.

By the time I was ready to head to Hailey’s, I looked like a different person. I took my time with my makeup, using a heavy hand with the concealer to hide the puffy evidence of my breakdown. I picked out a dress that didn't scream "housewife."

The traffic was a nightmare, a literal crawl through the city heat, but for once, I didn't mind. I sat in my car, staring at the bumper in front of me, remarkably calm. I didn't curse the drivers; I didn't get pulled over. I just breathed.

Finally, I reached Hailey’s apartment. She opened the door before I could even knock, her arms wide open.

"Come in, babe! Everything is set!"

I stepped inside and saw the little setup she’d made on the coffee table: a spread of fruits, snacks, and a tall, chilled glass of orange juice. It was so sweet, so normal, that I felt a tiny giggle escape me, sounding like a five-year-old for a split second.

We sat down on her plush velvet sofa, and she turned on the TV to low volume, leaning in with wide, expectant eyes.

"Okay, spill," she said, clutching a pillow. "Where do we even start with this 'terrible' day?"

I took a long sip of the juice, the cold liquid coating my dry throat. I looked her dead in the eye.

"Oh, okay. Let’s start with the part where Ethan cheated."

Hailey didn't just gasp. She literally spat her drink out, the orange juice spraying across the table as she choked in pure, unadulterated shock.

"He what?!"

"Marissa... tell me you’re joking," Hailey finally choked out, grabbing a handful of napkins to dab at the mess on her lap. "Ethan? Mr. 'I-have-to-get-home-to-my-wife' Ethan? The man who literally acted like you hung the moon?"

"He was acting, Hailey. And he deserves an Oscar," I said, my voice eerily steady. I leaned back into her plush sofa, the cold glass of orange juice condensation chilling my palm. "He’s been seeing her for four months."

Hailey’s jaw dropped even further. "Four months? While you were home making gourmet three-course meals and folding his silk boxers? I will actually kill him. I'll do it. I have a shovel in my trunk."

I gave a weak, jagged smile. "Save the jail time. He didn’t even tell me because he felt bad. He told me because the woman is suing him for three hundred million dollars. He’s terrified she’s going to bankrupt the company and ruin his 'perfect' reputation."

Hailey went dead silent. The anger in her eyes shifted to something sharper calculation. "So he's not just a cheater. He is a coward who's using you as a shield against a lawsuit."

"Exactly. And you know what the best part is?" I let out a dry, hollow laugh. "He told me I should go out and cheat on him. To 'even the score' so we can just go back to being the perfect couple."

Hailey slowly set her glass down. The playful "gist" energy was completely gone, replaced by a cold, protective fire. "He actually suggested that? He wants to turn his betrayal into a transaction?"

"He thinks I'm still that girl, Hails. The one who's too scared to break a plate, let alone a vow." I looked down at my hands. They weren't shaking anymore. "But I am done being the 'perfect' wife. I'm done being the stay-at-home ornament."

"Good," Hailey hissed, reaching over to grab my hand. "Because if he wants you to even the score... then we are going to make sure you win the whole damn game."

I looked at her, and for the first time since the world broke, I felt a spark of something other than pain. It was a cold, simmering ambition.

"So," I whispered. "What do we do first?"