Episode 5

EPISODE 5: MISTRESS AND ME .

Rebecca and I had already devised a detailed plan to return home following my father-in-law's death anniversary. I needed her to stay at home because it was the only way our plans could work, and I finally got my divorce.

" What! What do you mean?

When he learned that Rebecca would be staying at the house, Justin became irritated.

Justin even offered to drive her home after we explained that she did not have enough money to do so, but his mother gets so upset at the end of the day that she will not let anyone leave the house.

Her spouse reportedly died in a car accident on the way back from a business meeting.

"Please take your friend to her bedroom, Cynthia." No matter how Justin felt, Mom asked me to show Rebecca to her room.

When I led Rebecca to her room, we were both ecstatic about Joyed's request to remain; our plans had only just begun.

"Well! That was well done.

As soon as we arrived at Rebecca's bedroom, she commented. We just lay on the bed and gaze at the ceiling, and I agree with her.

After a few minutes, I was on my way to my bedroom when Justin seized my hand and hurled me nervously out onto the balcony.

"Oh my god, what is wrong with you?"

His sudden behavior caused me to react.

What was he thinking when he pushed in that way?

"I apologize, but I need to know something crucial. What are you planning?" he asked as he stepped forward and took my hand. As we exchanged glances, his eyes grew suspicious.

What precisely did he mean by those words?

Planning? What exactly was I planning, and more importantly, why does exact words.

I began to suspect that he had discovered the truth, or that Rebecca had ratted me out to me. When it comes to humans, anything is possible.

"I do not understand....what exactly are you saying?" I asked him, attempting not to feel guilty.

" Hmm! When did you and Rebecca first become friends?"

After stalling for a while, the questions began to emerge.

"Are you serious? Would you have preferred that I told Mom the truth?" I stopped speaking...

"I do not know..... I just can not think clearly."

He blamed his mind for being unable to think clearly.

So, I laughed and said...

"Are you that in love with your mistress, or are you afraid your mother will find out that her son was not a saint?"

I made a joke, despite the fact that it was not funny to him. He hissed while rolling his eyes.

Hissing was the first of many indications that he was affected by my statement. Indeed, I was triggered by the possibility that his mother would discover the truth _ not to brag, but she adores me and may end up disowning her son for my sake.

He was finally convinced that Rebecca and I were not friends, despite the fact that I brought her here to be my husband's mistress.

We came across his mother along the way.

She asked him what was going on, but he was too overwhelmed to talk...

I was about to leave when she dragged me back and asked the same question.

"Dear, does your husband appear distracted?" As a mother, she was aware that something was wrong...

"I do not think so; perhaps he is exhausted from the ceremony that occurred." I made the only reasonable suggestion.

It was either that or telling her the truth.

Which, of course, will be disastrous to hear...

The following morning, I was responsible for preparing breakfast. Everyone was seated in their chairs before Rebecca came downstairs and joined us for breakfast...

"Good morning, dear. So, how did you sleep?"

My mother-in-law welcomed her warmly. Justin, on the other hand, was dripping sweat from head to toe.

Lies can sometimes be tricky!

"Good morning, Ma'am; I slept like a baby."

She stretched and touched my paranoid husband's shoulder on purpose.

He immediately rose from his chair, causing everyone to turn around in awe.

" What! Has anything happened?"

His mother questioned him.

And judging by his expression, he was too embarrassed to say anything.

" No! "I am fine." He took out his handkerchief to clean his face.

"All right, then join us for breakfast and settle in." "Please take back your chair and sit down," she said.

After serving his mother, I served Justin's breakfast, forcing him to comply with her demands.

"May I please have a glass of orange juice, Miss Cynthia?" Rebecca spoke, raising her hand above her head.

"Sure, I will be right back." I smiled as I returned to the kitchen.

And there I was, trying to get my husband's mistress a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, when my husband came in...

"Can we talk?"

He arrived, panting heavily.

" Talk? What happened? Did someone die?

I turned and gave him a somewhat contradictory look with my eyes...

He noticed this, but it did not seem to change anything when he started questioning me.

"Is there anything happening between you and Rebecca?" He placed his hand on top of the kitchen counter, his anxious gaze returning to me.

" What! "Why are you asking such stupid questions?" I dismissed his feelings.

"Stupid question?" He laughed faintly before asking, "Whose wife is braver in accepting her husband's mistress and wanting to serve her meals?"

I laughed; the tension was slowly eating him from within. He will never be at peace as long as Rebecca lives in the house.

" Hmm! What did you expect me to do? Cry myself to sleep?" I asked him.

"No, but!" He attempted to finish his statement, but I interrupted him and responded, "But nothing! You can not expect me to make a scene, especially since your mother is at home with us.... I placed the glass of orange juice on a tray and approached him, saying, "Dear, whatever you want to do is your business, and I do not mind."

I shifted away and approached the kitchen slowly, but I came to a halt when I heard his response.

"So you do not love me anymore?".

" Love! You are the one with a mistress."

I spun back and replied.

" Mistress, you have never had my time."

He complained, making it appear as if everything was my fault.

" Really? Was I truly at fault?

I raised an eyebrow as I questioned him.

But when he did not seem to respond to my question, I turned away, leaving with the glass of orange juice for his mistress.