I Saw My Boyfriend Kissing My Subordinate at a Concert

When I pushed open the door, Jareth was standing in the middle of the living room.

He hadn’t turned on the lights, and the glow from his phone screen lit up half of his face.

“Back already?” He looked up.

“Mm.” I took off my shoes, the heels tapping against the floor with a muffled sound.

“How was the concert?” he asked.

His tone was emotionless, but I knew he was waiting for my reaction.

“It was okay.” I threw my bag on the couch. The body trembled slightly, and the heart was beating violently.

His hand froze in midair, and his face darkened.

“How’s your mom?” I asked.

“She’s better, sleeping now.” He tugged at his tie, his tone softening. “Sorry I couldn’t be with you.”

“It’s fine.”

I walked into the bedroom and unbuttoned my shirt.

He followed me, leaning against the doorframe, watching me.

“Want to?” I turned around and looked him straight in the eye.

He froze for a moment, then smiled.

In his eyes, I saw nothing but desire, not love.

“You’re the one making the move?” He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer.

“Mm.”

I took off my coat and threw it on the floor.

I unbuttoned my shirt, one button, then another.

He rushed over and pinned me against the wall.

The kiss was full of punishment, biting my lips until they hurt.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at his face.

In my mind, all I could see was the image on the big screen — the tenderness in his eyes when he kissed Lily, it was enough to drown someone.

“Look at me.” He grabbed my chin, his grip so tight it felt like it might break.

I opened my eyes, staring blankly at him.

In the dark, he suddenly pulled me into his arms, trembling all over.

“Leina,” his voice choked, “don’t leave me.”

“You’re my only anchor. Without you, I’ll just drift away.”

He’d said this to me many times before.

When his bipolar disorder flared up and he smashed the mirrors in the house.

When he had a fallout with investors and got drunk out of his mind.

I used to believe him, gently patting his back and saying, “I’m here.”

Now, I only find it laughable.

I opened the chat labeled “Sweetheart.”

Scrolling up, there was an overwhelming amount of inappropriate flirtatious messages.

“She’s like a piece of wood, not as exciting as you.”

“That cold finance robot, she’s only useful when doing calculations.”

“Once I handle her, I’ll go public with us.”

My heart felt like it was being gripped by a cold hand, slowly tightening.

I clicked on a video.

The scene was in a hotel room. Lily was wearing my silk robe — the one Jareth had given me for my birthday.

Jareth was kneeling in front of her, looking up and kissing her knee.

“Such a good girl.” His voice was so gentle it could melt, “Do you like this robe? I bought it just for you.”

Lily smiled, stroking his hair. “Wouldn’t it look better on her?”

“She doesn’t deserve it.”

I turned off the phone and threw it back on the bedside table.

No sound, no tears.

Nothing at all.

Once, his approach filled me with joy; now, it only brings weariness and disgust.

I shifted to the edge of the bed, avoiding him.