002

My husband always had a thing for his secretaries. Some men liked older women, some men had no control of who they slept with, some liked them short, some tall, but my husband... my husband liked his secretaries. And he changed them like ragdolls whenever he was done with them. 

With the first two women, I thought his affairs were mistakes... Just an urge he had those two moments. 

But the third time, I found out it was a pattern. 

"You should be grateful I only cheat with my secretaries." That was what he'd said to me when I caught him in his office. 

You'd think I'd have left after that, or the fourth or fifth one, but I hadn't.  

I loved him too much to leave, and I thought that if I loved him hard enough, my love was going to make him change... Maybe he was even going to go back to his past, loving self.

It got to a point, I learned to ignore. I even started deleting the pictures of his affairs that an anonymous account always sent to me. As long as he came back to me at the end of the day, that was what I always told myself. But I guessed the time had finally come when he didn't want to return to me anymore. 

The cold night air hit me like a slap the moment I stepped out of the restaurant. 

Weakly, I leaned against the side of the restaurant with my eyes shut as I took in large gulps of air to suppress the urge to cry. 

I was done crying for tonight... I thought. 

When I felt the tears receding, I pushed off the wall to go find a taxi. 

I took three steps forward. And it was all I managed before I felt like the ground was moving beneath my feet. 

That wouldn't have been a problem, but I wasn't moving. Not until my vision tunneled and my body swayed like I was a bowling pin deciding whether to fall or not. 

 My knees buckled, and for one terrifying second, I thought I was going to collapse right there on the sidewalk.

But I didn’t fall.

A hand caught my arm, strong fingers wrapping around me just above the elbow. “Easy.”

It took a moment before I looked up.

The man holding me was quite old... if the silver streaking through his dark hair and the wrinkles lining his face had anything to say about it. 

He was tall, broad-shouldered beneath a long, dark coat that looked expensive without being loud. His eyes were piercing, almost dark as they assessed me, sweeping over me in one swift glance before settling on the blood on my forehead.

“You’re injured,” he noted.

“I’m fine,” I replied automatically.

His gaze didn’t waver. “You’re bleeding.”

I swallowed. “It’s nothing.”

He studied me for another moment, then shifted his grip, steadying me when my legs trembled again.

“You’re going into shock,” he said calmly. “You need to sit.”

“I don’t—”

“Sit,” he repeated, firmer this time.

Something about his tone made me listen. Maybe it was the lack of cruelty in it, or the lack of impatience, or his kind but hardened gaze. Whatever it was, I just felt too tired to fight anymore. 

He guided me to a bench a few steps away, easing me down as if I were fragile glass rather than a nuisance. 

Once I was seated, he crouched slightly in front of me and reached into his coat pocket.

He unfolded a handkerchief carefully and pressed it to my forehead. “Hold this,” he instructed.

Slowly, I raised my hand to my head and held the cloth in place.

“Thank you,” I murmured. 

The little act of kindness made my chest hurt and my eyes a little too wet for comfort. But I said I was done crying, and I needed it to be true. 

He straightened, his eyes scanning my face again. “Rough night?” 

A weak, humorless laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. “You have no idea.”

He glanced toward the restaurant doors behind me, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Did someone inside do this to you?”

“No,” I answered a little too quickly. “It was an accident.”

He hummed low in his throat, clearly unconvinced. Thankfully, he didn’t press. 

Silence settled between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable. 

I stared toward the door of the restaurant just as a couple walked out. 

The man's hand was on the woman's waist, and she looked at him and said something which made him smile. He eyed her with so much adoration, and cold envy slithered through me at their moment. 

I looked away before I let myself entertain any negative thoughts. 

"Weren't you heading into the restaurant?" I asked quietly when I noticed he wasn't making any move to leave. 

I wasn't refusing his company, I just... I just didn't want to feel like a trouble. 

"I saw a young lady who looked like she needed help, and that was more important than any overpriced food." 

That made me laugh a little. 

The food there was overpriced. 

The man let me cry in silence until I couldn't anymore, and I inwardly appreciated him for it. 

When my tears had dried up, I stood to leave. But I only took a few steps forward before I stopped. I remembered I had nowhere to go. 

I stared at the road, biting my lips, resisting the urge to cry again, until the man's voice spoke. 

“There’s a hotel not far from here.” His voice filled the silence. “It should be enough for tonight. You’ll see a doctor, clean that wound, and get some rest.”

“I don’t have money,” I replied, my voice small. I didn't have anything. 

“I didn’t ask,” he replied. Then he stood. It was very easy to miss, but his form was frail. I wondered how he could support me when he needed support, himself. “Come.”

I hesitated. “I don’t even know your name.” 

I wanted to ask more... like who he was, but I didn't want to chase him off. 

“Victor,” he said. 

 “I'm Joan.”

He just nodded and began his walk toward the only black jeep in the parking lot. 

~~~

The ride to the hotel passed in a haze. Victor left me alone with my thoughts, and the only sound in the vehicle was when he occasionally spoke to his driver. 

At the hotel, everything moved quickly but smoothly. 

A doctor was called, and my wound was cleaned and bandaged. Room service even brought me warm soup I didn’t remember asking for. But I was thankful for it, I hadn't eaten anything at the restaurant. 

When the doctor left, Victor entered and stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back.

“You’ll stay here tonight,” he said. “Tomorrow, you can decide your next step.”

“And if I don’t know what that is?” I asked quietly.

“Then you take another day,” he replied. “And another after that.”

I stared at his back. “You don’t even know me.”

He turned slightly, meeting my gaze. “I know what you need right now, and that is enough.” He walked back to the door. "Get some rest, Joan." 

His words were the permission I didn't realize I was waiting for. I lay back against the pillows, exhaustion finally pulling me under. 

~~~

The next day, Victor drove me back to Dean's house so I could hand over the papers and pack my belongings.  

Out of his kindness, he offered me a place to stay. And though I hesitated at first, I agreed. I was only going to stay with him until I got back on my feet, and after that, leave. 

I planned to sneak in, leave the papers in Dean's library, and then sneak out undetected. And so far, it had gone well, until a sound from one of the guest rooms made me stop. 

"Dean..." a female voice cried. 

I could understand that sound from anywhere—it was the unmistakable sound of moaning.

It didn’t take much to figure out who they were from, and the realization made my chest ache. 

I might’ve hardened my heart, but it hadn’t meant that I was automatically immune to the hurt of his betrayal. 

Without thinking about it, I left my bags by the stairs and slowly approached the room. 

The door wasn’t completely closed, and when I squinted, I could see my husband in bed with his secretary. 

My chest tightened, but I willed myself not to let it show. 

Then, I took out my phone and opened the camera, pushed the door open a few more inches, and began recording them. When I’d seen enough, I saved the video to my phone and then the cloud, in case it got lost. 

If you’d asked me, I didn’t know why I did that; I just felt compelled to. Maybe it was going to be handy in the future. 

I fetched my bags and left the house, and Victor's driver met me outside and helped me with my bags. 

"Are you ready?" Victor asked once I was seated beside him in the backseat. 

I nodded, my throat clogged with tears. "I am." 

I didn't feel ready for anything, but I was certain that far away from my past was where I wanted to be.