One

Today was supposed to be unforgettable.

I had just closed a thirty billion dollar contract, the largest deal my company had ever secured. It had taken months of negotiations, countless revisions, and a final pitch that stretched every ounce of energy I had. But in the end, I succeeded. The deal was sealed, signed before noon, and already making waves.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in my office, replaying different ways I would tell Roman. I could already picture the way his smile used to stretch across his face when I accomplished something big. He always said no one could close a deal like I did, no one could turn numbers into poetry the way I managed to. Back then, he said it with pride in his voice. I wondered if he would say it again tonight.

It was our anniversary, and for the first time in a long while, I felt proud. I felt like I had achieved something meaningful.

Three years of marriage and ten years of shared history had shaped our lives. We had grown up side by side. We built something together, or at least I believed we did. After Roman lost his parents at a young age, my family took him in and treated him like one of their own. He was at every celebration, every milestone, and every awkward holiday dinner. He was the boy who stood beside me in school photos and the man who stood waiting at the altar on the day we exchanged vows.

After college, I poured my soul into building my textile company from the ground up. I brought Roman into the company as a board member, not because he earned it, but because he was my husband. I trusted him. I believed in our future. I truly thought we were building something lasting.

On the drive home, I had roses in the passenger seat and a smile on my face, one I hadn’t worn in months.

But as I pulled into the driveway, a strange unease settled over me.

The house looked exactly the same as always. The white walls stood pristine, the porch lights glowed warmly, and everything appeared untouched. Yet the silence pressed against the windows, heavy and unnerving. The air around me felt colder, as if something invisible was warning me to turn around.

I stepped out of the car slowly. My heels clicked softly against the concrete, and the bouquet of flowers I bought him rested in my hand. When I reached the door, I noticed it was unlocked.

That was strange. Roman never left the door unlocked.

My heart began to beat faster, thudding hard against my chest.

The living room lights were on, but he wasn’t there. There was no music playing, no scent of food coming from the kitchen, and no sign of his shoes by the entryway. I called his name, soft and cautious, wondering if he might be asleep somewhere in the house.

There was no response.

I walked up the stairs slowly, each step making my skin crawl with tension.

Just before I reached the landing, I heard a low laugh. It was soft and familiar, unmistakably feminine. A sharp knot twisted in my stomach. I couldn’t tell whether the sensation was dread or anxiety, but every part of me was suddenly alert.

My pulse began to pound in my ears, steady and deafening.

Even though I didn’t want to believe it, I had already started to understand what I was walking toward.

The door to our bedroom was partially open. I reached out and pushed it the rest of the way.

That was the moment everything fell apart.

Roman was in bed with Alessia.

My husband and my cousin were tangled together on the sheets I had chosen for us, on the bed we once shared.

My brain struggled to register the sight in front of me. I stood there, motionless, unable to speak, unable to think.

Neither of them moved.

They saw me. They didn’t flinch. They didn’t bother to cover themselves. They just stared at me, lounging across the bed as though I had barged in uninvited. As though I was the one who didn’t belong.

Alessia sat up slowly, her long dark hair cascading over her bare shoulders. She didn’t reach for the covers out of shame. She didn’t look guilty or startled. She smiled, smug and calm.

Roman met my eyes, then leaned back against the headboard. He looked at me with the same expression he wore when watching the news or waiting for a drink to arrive. Detached. Unbothered.

For several seconds, I forgot how to breathe.

“What is going on?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

Alessia answered before he could say anything. That didn’t surprise me.

“We’ve been meaning to tell you,” she said, her tone smooth and rehearsed. “It just never felt like the right time.”

She stood from the bed and wrapped the sheet around herself, moving without any urgency. It was the Egyptian cotton set I had picked out myself. A wedding gift from my parents.

“You were supposed to be at work,” she added, like my early return was the biggest offense in the room.

Roman stood up with no apology in his eyes. “You’ve been so busy. The company takes everything from you.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “So this is how you deal with it? You sleep with my cousin?”

Alessia let out a quiet laugh. “Oh, please, Noelle. Spare us the drama. You’ve always acted like the world revolved around you. Your company, your deals, your reputation. You didn’t even see how miserable he was.”

“I saw it,” I said, my voice firm. “I saw it in the way he stopped looking at me. I noticed when he began staying out late and blaming meetings that never existed.”

Roman’s jaw tensed. “You never listened. You talked about contracts and expansion all day. You would come home and fall asleep before I could even say goodnight.”

“And that gave you permission to betray me with my own blood?” I demanded.

Alessia rolled her eyes. “You never appreciated what you had. You always made it seem like Roman was lucky to be with you, but you were the lucky one.”

I turned toward her, the anger building in my chest. “You were a child when you came to us. My parents took you in when no one else would. You had nothing. We gave you everything.”

“They loved me for it,” she replied coldly. “They loved me more than they ever loved you.”

Her words struck hard. I felt them deep in my chest, like a blow I hadn’t braced for. I swallowed back the sting and stood tall.

Roman stepped between us with his arms crossed. “We didn’t plan for this to happen. It just did. Maybe it’s what we all needed.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound scraping my throat.

“You really think this is a clean break? That this is your fresh start?”

He didn’t speak.

“I let you into my life. I let you into my company. I trusted you, and now you both stand there like you’ve achieved something.”

Alessia narrowed her eyes. “Maybe we have.”

My hand twitched at my side, the temptation to strike her almost overwhelming. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t give her that satisfaction. I wouldn’t let them see how much they had cracked me.

I looked at the two of them. At the bed we used to share. At the life I thought we had.

“You can keep the bed,” I said. “You’ll need something familiar when everything else is gone.”

They didn’t respond.

I turned and walked away. I descended the stairs in silence and stepped out into the night.

The air was cool against my skin. For the first time in years, I felt entirely alone.

I sat in my car, my hands trembling, my thoughts scattered. Everything I had built, everything I believed in, had collapsed in the space of a single moment.

There was nothing to return to.

I started the engine. I pulled out of the driveway and drove away without looking back.

But just before I turned the corner, something made me check the rearview mirror.

The upstairs bedroom light was still on.

Their shadows moved behind the curtains.

And then I saw her. Alessia stood in the window, her arms wrapped around Roman’s waist, her face tilted downward toward the street.

She was smiling.

She lifted her hand and waved at me.

As if she had won.

That was the moment my hands stopped shaking.

That was the moment I knew I wasn’t going to cry.

I was going to bury them both with everything they stole from me.