Found an Ultra-Thin Condom Under Our Bed

Suppressing my rage, I asked Shelly, "Where's your team building at?"

She paused for a few seconds before sending me an address.

I immediately grabbed my keys and headed over.

The moment I stepped into the restaurant, I spotted Shelly sitting by the window.

There was no team-building event at all. It was just her and her boss, Russell Wilkins, having a candlelit dinner.

I silently found a corner to sit in.

They were laughing and chatting, and Shelly had a coy, bashful expression I had never seen on her before.

They even had a bit of fun with it, locking arms and drinking from each other's glasses while everyone watched.

Then came an even more glaring sight.

Russell naturally and effortlessly slid his hand under the table and rested it on her stocking-clad leg.

Shelly stiffened for a moment but didn't pull away. Instead, she just shot him a feigned, reproachful glance.

Emboldened, Russell leaned in and said, "Babe, don't go home tonight."

Even though his voice wasn't loud, I still heard it.

"No. If I stay out all night, he'll get suspicious," Shelly replied hesitantly.

"Him?" Russell let out a contemptuous chuckle. "You mean Emory Sullivan, that pathetic junior employee? What can he give you? The stability of being broke?"

His tone was utterly dismissive. "Can his meager salary really make you happy? Don't you find it boring to be with him? Can a man with no sense of romance even be called a man?"

Instead of speaking up for me, Shelly just looked down and fiddled with her wine glass.

I sat in the shadows, my blood rushing to my head.

I wanted nothing more than to storm over and land a few punches on Russell, then grab Shelly and demand an explanation.

But I managed to hold back.

Acting on impulse would only make me look more pathetic.

I was going to make them regret this and make them pay in my own way.

Russell's hand lingered on her thigh the entire time. When he got up to pay the bill, his arm was tightly wrapped around Shelly's waist.

She feigned resistance as she leaned into him, and the two of them headed toward the elevators to the hotel room like conjoined twins.

After they disappeared, I sat for another five minutes before taking out my phone and sending Shelly a text.

"Is your team building over? I'm nearby. I'll come up and get you."

Once the message was sent, I placed my phone screen-side up. I pictured her in some room upstairs, flustered the moment she saw the message.

Half a minute later, Shelly called and said in a flustered tone, "You don't have to do that. We're still playing games, so it'll be a while. Maybe an hour or two? It's hard to say. You should head back. I'll just take a cab."

"It's fine. I'm not in a hurry." I leaned back in my seat. "I'll wait for you downstairs. Come down when you're down. Or tell me the room number, and I'll come up."

"Don't come up!" She was practically shouting, then immediately realized her mistake and quickly lowered her voice to explain, "It should be wrapping up soon. Let me see if I can leave a bit early."

"Alright."

In less than five minutes, Shelly came out.

I looked her over. Her dress was slightly wrinkled, and there was a small tear in her stockings just above the knee.

On the side of her neck was a small red mark, as if recently kissed hard.

Most noticeable, though, was the look in her eyes. It carried a suppressed resentment and the impatience of someone who had been interrupted.

Pretending not to notice, I smiled and walked up to her.

"Did you have fun?"

She walked straight past me, answering stiffly, "It was okay. Let's just go home."

I nodded, not pressing any further, and followed her to the parking lot.

Throughout the entire ride, she sat with her lips pressed tightly together, gazing out the window in silence.

One could cut the tension in the car with a knife.

Back home, she kicked off her heels and tossed her bag onto the couch before walking straight into the bathroom.

After she finished showering and was drying her hair as she walked into the bedroom, I asked softly, "Honey, it's been a while since we've been intimate. How about we do it tonight?"

Her hand froze on her hair. Then, without looking at me, she replied, "I'm too tired. I worked all day and had to socialize in the evening, so I really don't have the energy right now."

I had expected as much, so I simply replied, "Okay."

Just then, the phone on her nightstand lit up.

On the screen flashed the name "Russell."

Shelly immediately grabbed the phone and answered it while saying to me, "There's something going on at work. Go ahead and sleep first."

With that, she quickly walked out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut behind her.

I quietly moved to the door.

In the living room, she said in a lowered voice, "I know. He's not asleep yet. It's fine."

Her voice carried a tenderness she had never once given me. "Don't be so impatient. I'll make it up to you tomorrow, alright? I'll wear black stockings, and you can do whatever you want. Don't worry—unless you say so, I won't let him touch me."

Her voice gradually softened, punctuated by a few light giggles.

I stood there in place, feeling no anger. Instead, there was only an icy calm.

More than ten minutes later, I heard her hang up and walk back toward the bedroom.

I immediately returned to the bed and lay down with my back to the door. Then, I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Shelly gently pushed the door open and paused at the doorway for a moment before carefully getting into bed.