Dear Husband, Catch Me If You Can

Laura

I sat before the mirror, studying my reflection. Even in my exhaustion, even without much effort, I was still beautiful. Freda, my best friend, always joked that if anyone ever asked what I did for a living, I should tell them my job was simply to exist beautifully.

You would think beauty would be enough to make a husband love his wife. In my case, it only seemed to remind him of how little he cared.

I fumbled with the clasp of my necklace, my nails making the simple task frustrating. In the mirror, I watched him getting dressed behind me, calm, composed and cold.

I finally stood and walked over to him. “Can you help me with my necklace?” I asked softly, lifting my hair. “My nails won’t let me.”

He looked at me as though I had asked for something unreasonable. “You can ask one of the maids to do it on our way out,” he said coldly, already turning away.

The words stung more than I wanted to admit. I nodded and turned back to the mirror, dropping the necklace. I changed my mind, I would wear my hair down, just like my mood. If not for tonight’s announcement, I wouldn’t even be attending the party. Not with everything going on in my life.

Lucien walked toward me and stretched out his hand. “There’s no need,” I said gently. “I don’t want to wear the necklace anymore.” I didn’t want to disturb him or ruin his mood. Tonight was his night, his moment.

But he picked up the necklace anyway and came to stand behind me. His breath grazed my neck as I lifted my hair, and a shiver raced down my spine. He fastened the clasp but lingered, our eyes locking in the mirror.

He pushed my hair aside, his nose tracing the curve of my neck, sending a jolt of heat through me. I gripped the vanity, knuckles whitening, as excitement pulsed in my veins.

His hands found my breasts, squeezing with a deliberate tenderness, his fingers teasing my nipples through the fabric. A moan escaped me, loud and unapologetic, as I bit my lip hard.

His lips attacked my neck, kissing, sucking, while his hands roamed my body, igniting every nerve. 'Fuck...' he groaned, inhaling the scent of my hair, his grip tightening on my ass. I felt his hard cock press against me through his trousers, and I arched my back, offering more, craving more. Two years without his touch, and now this, I didn’t care if we were late. Let them wait.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, the vibration so strong it echoed through me, straight to my core. He stepped back, pulling it out, and answered with a softness that wasn’t for me. 'Hey, babe.' His eyes met mine in the mirror, and the fire in me died as quickly as it had flared. 'I will be on my way now.'

He pocketed the phone and turned to me, his voice flat. 'Don’t bother putting your hair up. I must have left marks on your neck, and I don’t want drama tonight. Forget this ever happened. It was a mistake.' With that, he walked out, leaving me hollow.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, and all I saw was a fool, still hoping Lucien would love me back, still believing he would choose me over Megan, his childhood sweetheart.

My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall. Crying wouldn’t change anything. I picked up my purse and went downstairs to join him.

The moment we arrived at the party, Megan was already waiting outside.

She was wearing the dress, the one our designer had created specifically for me, the one Lucien had given to her instead.

She walked straight up to Lucien and kissed his cheek. “Babe, you took too long,” she said sweetly. “The guests are already waiting, and Mom is furious.”

Then she glanced at me, her lips curling in disdain. “Wait, you wasted Lucien’s time over this? The dress and makeup make you look like a damn millipede.”

I said nothing, I only stared at her.I knew better than to reply. One wrong word, and Lucien’s anger would fall on me instead.

She grabbed Lucien’s hand and dragged him into the hall. I followed behind them.

I headed toward the seats that were clearly reserved for Lucien and me, but Megan slid into one of them first.

“Be a sweet girl and find a corner to sit in,” she said, shooing me away with her hand. “That’s where girls like you belong.”

I glanced at Lucien, hoping for a shred of defense, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look up, his attention fixed on his phone.

I turned away and took an empty chair nearby. As I sat, I noticed the looks around the room—some curious, some amused, others filled with pity. They all knew that my husband had a mistress, his precious childhood sweetheart, and that he would do anything to protect her image, both in public and in private.

I sat in silence, I was only here for one reason. Once it was over, I would leave. I refused to sit any longer as the subject of whispered gossip and quiet ridicule.