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Chapter 6

Author: D.Twister
last update Last Updated: 2025-09-11 18:26:56

I wake to an empty bed and the sound of Alexander's voice carrying from the kitchen.

The digital clock reads 7:23 AM, and pale morning light filters through our floor-to-ceiling windows.

My body still remembers Derek's presence from last night…the way he stood beside our bed, what he whispered.

Alexander's voice grows clearer as I pad toward the kitchen in my silk robe, my bare feet silent on the marble floors.

"The Tokyo markets opened strong," he's saying into his phone, his back to me as he stands at the kitchen island with his laptop open. Charts and numbers fill the screen in neat, orderly rows. "Execute the transfer by noon."

He looks up when I enter, mouthing "tea" while pointing to the cabinet. The same morning routine we've performed for three years.

He handles his empire; I handle the domestic details.

I move to the counter, reaching for his favorite Earl Grey, when I sense someone else in the kitchen.

Derek sits at our breakfast bar, already dressed in dark jeans and a n
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  • OBSESSED WITH MY HUSBAND’s FRIEND   Chapter 12

    By the time we return to the penthouse, it's nearly six PM. The golden light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows feels different now—warmer, more alive—like the apartment itself has changed while we were gone."I should listen to Alexander's voicemail," I say, but I make no move toward my phone."Should you? Or would you rather tell me what you thought about the exhibition?"Derek settles onto the leather couch, completely at ease in Alexander's domain. There's something thrilling about his casual possession of the space—the way he props his feet on the glass coffee table, spreads his arms along the back of the couch like he owns it.Like he owns me.The thought should terrify me. Instead, it sends heat pooling low in my belly."The poetry reading was beautiful," I say, sitting carefully on the opposite end of the couch. "I'd forgotten how powerful live poetry can be.""Had you? Or had you just stopped allowing yourself to experience things that made you feel?"Derek's que

  • OBSESSED WITH MY HUSBAND’s FRIEND   Chapter 11

    The gallery is everything I used to dream about—raw concrete walls, dramatic lighting, and art that pulses with life and passion."This is incredible," I breathe, standing before a massive canvas covered in bold strokes of gold and crimson."The artist is twenty-four," Derek says, reading from the placard. "Fresh out of art school, working three jobs to afford paint."I can feel the hunger in the brushstrokes, the desperation to create something beautiful despite impossible circumstances. It reminds me of myself at that age—before I learned that dreams were luxuries I couldn't afford."You're crying," Derek observes gently.I touch my cheek and find it damp. "I'd forgotten what it felt like to see art that matters. Everything Alexander collects is... safe. Expensive. Prestigious.""But not alive.""No. Not alive."Derek's hand finds mine as we move through the gallery. His touch is becoming familiar, natural, like we've been holding hands for years instead of hours."There's something

  • OBSESSED WITH MY HUSBAND’s FRIEND   Chapter 10

    By ten AM, I'm dressed in jeans and a soft cashmere sweater—clothes I haven't worn in public in years. Alexander prefers me in dresses, skirts, anything that looks "appropriate" for a billionaire's wife.But Derek isn't Alexander."You look like yourself," Derek says when I emerge from the bedroom. He's leaning against the kitchen counter, and his smile is warm, approving. "I'd forgotten how good you look in blue."The compliment sends heat through my chest. When was the last time someone noticed what colors I looked good in?"Where are we going?""Somewhere Alexander would never think to look for you."An hour later, we're standing in a cluttered bookstore in Greenwich Village. The kind of place with narrow aisles, books stacked floor to ceiling, and a cat sleeping on the counter next to the register."Remember this place?" Derek asks, running his fingers along the spine of a poetry collection.I do remember. Not this exact bookstore, but places like it. Before Alexander, I used to

  • OBSESSED WITH MY HUSBAND’s FRIEND   Chapter 9

    I wake to the sound of raised voices from the living room.Alexander and Derek are arguing about something, their words muffled but the tension unmistakable. The digital clock reads 6:43 AM—too early for a casual disagreement. I slip out of bed and pad quietly to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against the wood."...completely inappropriate," Alexander is saying, his voice tight with barely controlled anger."I disagree." Derek's tone is calm, almost amused. "She's clearly intelligent. Why not use that?""Because that's not what she's for."The words hit me like ice water. That's not what she's for."What exactly is she for, then?" Derek asks, and there's something dangerous in his voice now."She's my wife. She has a role to play, and last night she forgot what that role was.""Maybe the role is the problem."A long silence follows, heavy with unspoken threats."I think you're forgetting yourself, Derek," Alexander says finally. "This is my home, my wife, my life. You're a gues

  • OBSESSED WITH MY HUSBAND’s FRIEND   Chapter 8

    The red Valentino dress has been hanging in my closet for two years, tags still attached. I bought it impulsively during a rare solo shopping trip, drawn to the deep crimson silk and the way it hugged the mannequin's curves. But when I brought it home, Alexander's voice echoed in my head…red is too bold, too attention-seeking, not appropriate for a wife in his position.So it's hung there, unworn.Now, standing in front of my walk-in closet at five-fifteen, I stare at that dress like it might bite me."Just wear the navy," I whisper to myself. "Safe. Appropriate."But Derek's words won't leave my head: For the first time in years, you're going to wear something because you want to, not because it's safe.My fingers trace the silk fabric. It's even more beautiful than I remembered—the color of wine, of roses, of confidence I used to have.Before I can change my mind, I pull it from the hanger.The dress fits like it was made for me. The silk whispers against my skin as I zip it

  • OBSESSED WITH MY HUSBAND’s FRIEND   Chapter 7

    An hour later, I'm walking through Central Park beside Derek, trying to pretend this is normal. That having my high school obsession manipulate his way back into my life is somehow acceptable.The autumn air is crisp, and joggers weave around us on the winding paths. Everything looks peaceful, ordinary—the complete opposite of how I feel inside."You canceled three board meetings for this," I say, my voice tight with resentment."And how did that feel?" Derek asks, hands in his jacket pockets as he walks with easy confidence. "Saying no to obligations that don't really matter to you?""They do matter. The literacy foundation helps underprivileged—""Sophia." He stops walking, turning to face me. "When's the last time you did something because you wanted to, not because it looked good for Alexander's image?"I open my mouth to argue, then close it. The honest answer is too depressing to say out loud."That's what I thought." Derek's smile is gentle, almost sad. "Come on. There's someth

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