Ex-Wife's Revenge

Shirley’s POV:

The lilies were a mistake. I knew it the moment I saw them arranged at the entryway, all pristine and white. Steven had been clear: a simple, elegant party for our seventh anniversary. But in my world, there was no such thing as simple. Tonight was a tribute, a celebration of the perfect life we had built. The seven years I had spent as a homemaker—a title I wore with pride—felt like a beautiful, hand-woven tapestry, and I refused to let a single thread be out of place.

"Shirley, the first few guests are here," Jessica said, her voice a calm anchor in my whirlwind. She was my assistant for big events, a pro at keeping things from spiraling.

I stood by the entrance, greeting our guests with a smile I'd perfected over the years, the one that said everything is fine, even when it wasn't. The house was perfectly decorated, every detail just as I'd planned. The soft glow of the chandelier reflected off the polished floors, and the scent of fresh flowers and candle wax lingered in the air. It should have been the perfect night.

But something was off.

I glanced across the room at Steven, who was talking to a group of our friends, his face bright and animated, his smile effortlessly charming. But my eyes kept drifting back to the phone in his hand. It was subtle—almost unnoticeable—but he kept checking it, as if he couldn't help himself.

I felt my pulse quicken.

He had never been like this before.

"Shirley, everything looks perfect," Mrs. Snow said, her voice warm with admiration as she gave me a tight hug. "You're seriously amazing. How do you do it all?"

I forced a laugh, a little too loud. "I don't, trust me," I said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "But thank you. It means a lot."

She looked at me knowingly. "You're a superwoman. How do you juggle all this with a toddler at home?"

I smiled, but it didn't quite reach my eyes. "It's a work in progress."

My mind wasn't on the party or the compliments. It was on Steven. The way he seemed to be more invested in his phone than in the conversation we'd been having earlier. The way he'd kissed me earlier, his lips cold, almost mechanical. Was I imagining it?

I told myself I was overthinking. After all, we'd been through a lot together—eight years of marriage, a daughter, everything we'd built. It was natural to have moments of doubt, wasn't it?

But that voice in the back of my head wouldn't let go.

I watched Steven again, his smile wide as he exchanged jokes with our friends. But then, just as quickly, his eyes flicked down to his phone again. A slight tension in his shoulders, a small furrow between his brows.

Is it work?

I tried to ignore it, to enjoy the night, but my mind kept returning to him, to the phone, to the growing discomfort that had settled in my chest.

As the evening went on, I slipped into the kitchen, trying to occupy my hands with something, anything, that would distract me. I found myself wiping down the counter for the third time, though it didn't need wiping. The noise of the party felt distant here, like a faint echo.

I could hear Steven's voice from the other room, low and low-key, laughing with Jason, one of his business partners. I stopped mid-motion, the sound pulling me back into the conversation.

"Yeah, I'll see you later tonight," Steven said, his voice light, as though the words didn't carry any weight. "Don't worry. It'll be our little secret."

My breath caught in my throat. The words sounded so casual. So… intimate.

Our little secret?

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Was I hearing things? Or was this a sign of something... more?

Shaking my head, I forced myself to breathe. No. It's nothing. It's just my mind playing tricks on me.

But when I returned to the main room, I couldn't stop my eyes from searching for him, from watching how he moved, how he spoke, how he acted. The unease gnawed at me, growing louder with every glance at his phone. Why wasn't he looking at me? Why did he look at his phone more than he looked at me?

The party slowly began winding down, the laughter and chatter dying out. I excused myself to check on Abby, making sure she was settled in for the night. But my thoughts kept pulling me back to Steven, to that phone, to the growing sense that I was losing control of something I once believed was solid, unshakable.

It was late when Steven went to take a shower, his usual routine. I found myself standing in the bedroom, staring at the phone on the bedside table. It was like it was calling to me.

I shouldn't check it.

But my fingers betrayed me. I reached for it, picking it up as if it was nothing. The screen lit up, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the name Jason flash across it. My stomach turned.

Jason?

I unlocked the phone without thinking, as if the action wasn't real, as if I wasn't about to invade his privacy. The message on the screen caught my breath in my throat.

Hey baby, miss you. Can't wait to see you again tonight.

I froze.

My mind went blank.

I dropped the phone onto the bed as if it had burned me. My hands were shaking. My pulse pounded in my ears. This wasn't happening.

This couldn't be happening.

But the words were right there in front of me, undeniable. The truth hit me like a slap to the face.

I didn't know how long I stood there, frozen, my thoughts a blur of confusion and disbelief. I heard the sound of the shower turning off, the faint rustle of Steven stepping out, but I couldn't move.

He was going to come back, smile at me like everything was fine, like nothing had changed. But I couldn't pretend anymore.

When he walked back into the room, the towel still around his waist, his damp hair falling in messy waves, he stopped short when he saw me standing there. His brow furrowed, and he gave me a questioning look.

"Shirley? You okay?" His voice was casual, too casual.

I didn't answer immediately. My mind was still reeling from what I'd just read.

I forced a smile, but it was hollow. "Yeah, I'm fine."

His eyes lingered on me for a moment, but he didn't press. He walked over, brushing past me to grab his phone, but I didn't miss the way his fingers stiffened when he saw it lying on the bed.

For a brief moment, everything felt still, suspended in the air between us. But then he quickly pocketed the phone, like nothing had happened. Like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.