Clean Up

Sienna

I never thought I'd be walking into a house where every room held a story of betrayal. But there I was, standing at the front door, my shopping bags heavy in my hands, a strange, uneasy feeling pooling in the pit of my stomach.

It was a normal afternoon, or so I thought.

The sunlight filtered through the windows, casting shadows across the hallway, and for a moment, everything seemed so... still.

I had just stepped through the door when the overwhelming stench of sex, sweat, and something else…something like the residue of betrayal lingering in the air.

A feminine perfume hung thick around the furniture, the cushions, the rugs… everywhere.

My heart stuttered in my chest as I froze, a sense of dread creeping in. The room was littered with scattered clothes, discarded shoes, empty glasses, and the remnants of a night I could never have imagined.

The sight didn’t need to be spelled out; it was clear. The house was already telling me everything I needed to hear.

I knew it before my mind could catch up with my heart, which had already begun to break in ways I couldn't have prepared for.

Noah had done it again.

It was too much. My mind was racing, but all I could focus on was the fact that the house….my home felt like a prison of deceit.

I didn’t need to catch him red-handed to know what has happened.

The place was a testament to his latest infidelity again.

I could feel the weight of it all, suffocating, and it was as though the walls themselves were closing in on me, pressing down harder than any words could.

I didn’t even bother to put my bags down. My legs moved on their own accord, carrying me toward the bedroom.

Swallowing my rage, I followed, letting my legs take the lead.

My stomach twisted painfully in knots with each step, knowing exactly what I would find.

When I reached the door, I paused, my hand hovering above the handle. My heart thudded so loudly in my chest, I couldn’t tell if it was my pulse racing or if the world around me had come to a standstill.

I could clearly hear the sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

The low grunts and the rhythm of it all, A soft woman’s moans.….it all hit me like a slap to the face.

On our matrimonial bed.

I didn't know how to react. Fury? Hurt? Pain? I felt all of them at once.

My stomach churned.

I could feel bile rise in my throat, but I didn’t have time to stop it. I ran past the door, just barely, and burst into the bathroom.

I didn’t care about anything except the way my world had just imploded, the sharpness of the betrayal cutting into me with every violent heave.

The bile left a sour, bitter taste in my mouth, but nothing could clear the thick cloud of betrayal that was choking me.

I wiped my mouth and sat there, in the silence of the bathroom, letting the tears come.

I couldn't even make a sound, too afraid that if I opened my mouth, it would spill out all the things I’d kept buried.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw things. I wanted to leave. But most of all, I wanted to stop feeling this aching emptiness inside me that gnawed at my core.

Minutes passed…maybe longer. Time seemed irrelevant.

I don’t know how long I sat there, but when I could finally breathe without the acrid smell of his infidelity clogging my lungs, I forced myself to stand.

I didn’t want to see them...but I knew I couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever.

As I pushed open the door, Noah was already emerging from the room. His face was a mask of indifference, a cold smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

I wanted to slap that smug expression off him, but I stayed rooted to the spot.

The woman…she had long red hair, the kind that shimmered in the light…she was still standing there, adjusting her clothes.

She froze when she saw me, eyes widening slightly in surprise. She had clearly not expected to see another woman in the house.

"Who’s this?" the woman asked, her voice a little too sharp, she looked at me like I was some sort of intruder.

Noah, unfazed, wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist, pulling her closer. “Sienna, this is… Megan,” he said, like he was introducing her to a guest. “Megan, this is my maid. She’s here to clean up after us.”

My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

A maid.

My husband… my mate just called me a maid.

As if I wasn’t his wife.

As if the vows we had exchanged meant nothing.

As if the love we once shared was nothing more than a distant memory that no longer mattered.

I looked at Noah. He was standing so casually, as if everything was perfectly fine. The redhead looked me up and down, her lips curling into something between curiosity and mockery.

"Noah," I choked out, my voice barely a whisper, “Did you really just call me your maid?"

Noah didn’t respond. His eyes avoided mine, his face a picture of detachment as he moved to brush past me, his hand brushed my shoulder as though I were nothing more than an obstacle in his path.

The audacity of it all…felt like I wasn’t even worth looking at anymore.

I stood there for a moment, my entire body frozen. Maid? Me?

I wasn’t even worth the respect of a wife. I was the hired help.

My vision blurred with tears that I could no longer hold back.

I wasn’t sure if it was rage or heartbreak, but whatever it was, it twisted my insides, choking me.

“Noah…”

He didn’t answer right away, and I knew deep down that it didn’t matter what I said or how much I begged. He was never going to care.

His silence spoke volumes.

The distance between us had grown so wide that even words seemed too small to bridge the gap.

I asked again, more desperate this time, “Am I really just your maid?”

But he didn’t respond. Instead, he simply turned to the red-haired woman and, without so much as a glance in my direction, said, “You can go now. I’ll handle it.”

She nodded and, with a final glance toward me, walked out of the room. I could hear her heels clicking on the floor, the sound fading as she left.

And then, there was just the two of us. Alone.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I had to know. “Noah, why? Why do you keep doing this to me?”

His expression didn’t change. He didn’t seem angry, didn’t seem upset. If anything, he looked... tired.

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.

"I'm just tired, Sienna," he said, his voice low. "Tired of the marriage. Tired of pretending that everything is okay when it’s not. I don’t feel this marriage anymore.”

My breath hitched. Those words felt like a slap to the face, but I couldn’t stop them from sinking into my heart.

Every part of me wanted to scream at him, to tell him how cruel he was, to demand he take back those words, but instead I turned back toward the bedroom, the door still open, exposing the disarray inside, the remnants of Noah’s unfaithfulness scattered across our sanctuary.

It was a sickening sight.

I walked into the room and closed the door behind me with a soft click. The silence in

the room pressed in on me, but it felt oppressive and suffocating.

It was no longer a space that was ours.

I collapsed onto the bed, the sheets still warm from his actions, and buried my face in the pillow, my sobs muffled by the fabric. The pain was overwhelming.

How could he do this?

What had I done to deserve this?

My heart shattered into a thousand pieces, and I didn’t know how to gather them back together. I was so lost, I didn’t even hear him come in.

It wasn’t until I heard his voice…cold, and emotionless that I realized that he was standing in the doorway. “Stop this drama.”

“But why?” I paused. “Why do you keep doing this?” I croaked, lifting my head from the pillow to face him.

Noah crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe. His face was unreadable. “I told you before, Sienna,” he said, the words cutting through me like a blade. “I’m bored. I find this marriage boring.”

He turned to me, his eyes apathetic as he looked straight at me. “I find you boring, Sienna.”