Let's Have An Open Marriage

~SEREN~

“The diagnosis shows you have Thyroid Disorder—hypothyroidism, Mrs. Caldwell. The chances of you having children are slim to none.”

Doctor Brown’s words replay in my head as I pull into the driveway of my house and force the car to a stop, pressing my forehead against the steering wheel in somber silence.

Six years. That’s how long my husband, Julian, and I have been trying to have children. We’ve been married for eight years and spent six of them trying tirelessly for a baby.

Last month, we got into a fight about it, and I decided enough was enough. It was time for me to seek medical expertise.

The last thing I expected to hear was this.

Hypothyroidism.

Guilt floods my chest, tightening so painfully that I can barely breathe.

Why me?

The question lingers endlessly in my mind.

I’ve always loved children, always dreamed of having a big family with Julian ever since college. He shared the same dream too.

It highly explains why, six months ago, he started growing distant from me.

How is he going to take this discovery?

Would he lash out the way he did a month ago?

Dread settles heavily in my chest at the thought, and when I glance up and see his car parked in the driveway, I contemplate staying in mine for as long as possible before quickly forcing the idea away with a shaky exhale.

For better or worse, I remind myself as I grab the test results from the passenger seat, ignoring how heavy they feel in my hand as I step out of the car and make my way inside.

The scent of cinnamon and cigarette smoke immediately hits me the moment I walk in. It’s Julian’s scent, one I’ve grown accustomed to over the years, yet when my eyes sweep across the living room, he’s nowhere to be seen.

My fingers tighten around the results, my lips parting with his name already on the tip of my tongue when the unmistakable sound of a moan slices through the air.

My whole body freezes, my eyes drifting toward where the sound came from.

The bedroom upstairs.

…our matrimonial bedroom.

Something in my stomach tightens painfully, and I want nothing more than to convince myself that what I heard was just a figment of my distraught imagination. Maybe Julian was watching p**n. Maybe I was overthinking.

But then I hear it again, loud and clear.

“Nghn, Julie, I’m… I’m so close.”

The familiar voice feels like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.

No.

God, no.

My legs move before I can stop to think. Within seconds, I’m standing in front of the bedroom door, halting at the cracked-open entrance just as another voice drifts through.

“Wasn’t that the best sex of your life, Julie? I bet your little barren wife can’t give you that.”

The chuckle that leaves Julian afterward makes me sick to my stomach.

“She can’t hold a candle to you,” he says, and that sweet, syrupy chuckle that once made me smile fills my ears, feeling like a knife slowly twisting through my chest.

“Then why are you still with her?”

I don’t want to hear the answer.

I feel like if I do, the hot sting behind my eyes will spill over into tears, and I’ll completely break apart.

With trembling fingers, I push the door fully open and step inside, my gaze locking onto the two people tangled together on the bed.

My husband, Julian Sinclair.

And…

…my very own charity case. The girl I picked from an orphanage and personally sponsored, Lila Hart.

My presence does little to startle them, much to my shock.

Julian doesn’t scramble the way I imagined he would, and Lila doesn’t even bother trying to cover herself.

If anything, Julian sighs like I’m interrupting something important. The casualness of it feels like another crack splitting through my chest.

“Seren, where are your manners?” he asks calmly, meeting my gaze without a shred of remorse in his eyes. “Since when do we barge into rooms without knocking?”

I feel my throat tighten, my fingers squeezing around the report harder to ground myself. It feels like if I don’t, I’m going to react in a way I’ll end up hating later.

“Julian… explain yourself.”

Those are the only words I manage to force out before the bile rising in my throat nearly chokes me.

Julian doesn’t flinch. Instead, his eyes drift around lazily like he’s searching for something I can’t see.

“I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to understand what’s going on here. You’re not a child, Seren.”

His words are followed by the soft sound of Lila chuckling beside him as she comfortably rests her head against his chest.

I glare at her.

Five years of tuition fees and upkeep wasted.

If I’d known this ungrateful bitch was going to repay me by crawling into my bed, I would’ve rather burned every cent I spent on her.

Hopefully, she’s aware she’s completely lost that privilege now.

Then again, I doubt she’ll need my support anymore now that she’s found her way into my husband’s bed.

Bile rises in my throat as I realize the one place in this house I truly considered mine has now been defiled by the two people I trusted blindly.

Swallowing it back and biting down hard on my lower lip to stop the ache in my chest from spilling into tears, I force myself to face Julian.

“Why?” I demand.

If he had the audacity to betray me after everything, then he better have a damn good reason for it.

Not that it was going to help his case.

Much to my surprise, Julian looks almost baffled by the question as he rises from the bed, revealing the same pair of briefs I picked out for him with a smile a few months ago.

The wet spot near his member makes the reality of what they’ve done even more painful.

“Stop acting like a victim, Seren,” he says coldly. “If anyone’s to blame for this, it’s you.”

My brows twitch.

Me?

How dare he blame his infidelity on me?

“Don’t look at me like I said something wrong,” he continues as he walks closer. “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror recently? You’ve lost all your womanly appeal because you’re constantly burying yourself in work.”

“And whenever I try to touch you, you’re always so stiff.” He winces at the word like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“And the one time I manage to get you to perform your wifely duties, you’re always so dry and completely inflexible in bed.”

His words make my nails dig into my palm until I feel something warm coat my fingers.

All those hours spent behind a computer screen were for the both of us, working tirelessly to keep our company running, often leaving me exhausted by the end of the day.

How dare he turn that into an excuse to fucking cheat on me?

“But you should be thankful,” he continues. “Lila here was kind enough to fill in where you fell short.”

He gestures toward the messy blonde still sprawled across the bed.

The charity case has the audacity to blink innocently at me before forming a smile that almost looks apologetic.

“You… you don’t have to thank me, Seren.”

Something about the way she says it, like she’s doing me a favor, makes something inside me snap.

“You—”

I barely take a step forward before Julian catches me by the arm and yanks me back.

“If you lay a hand on Lila, don’t blame me for what I do,” he says, his voice deadly serious.

I stare at him, disbelief written all over my face.

“Julian… are you… are you even alright in the head? You cheat on me with the charity case I’ve been sponsoring and still have the audacity to stand there and say this to me?”

Julian snickers.

“Charity case?” He lets out a low laugh before looking me straight in the eyes. “Well, at least that charity case knows how to keep a man… and maybe, just maybe, give him children.”

Those words cut through me like a knife, digging straight into my already bleeding heart. The diagnosis feels heavier than ever in my hand, and I bite down on the inside of my lip to keep my eyes from betraying me in this moment.

For better or worse?

Fuck that.

I yank my hand free and steady my voice, making sure it doesn’t shake as I speak.

“I want a divorce.”

“Thought you’d say that,” Julian mutters, and I watch him walk over to the table beside the bed with practiced ease.

He pulls open the drawer, retrieves a document, then walks back and tosses it at my feet.

“Divorce papers,” he says. “Go ahead and sign them if you dare. But remember—per the prenup you signed, everything goes to me since you’re the one initiating the divorce.”

My breath hitches.

He’s right.

I signed that prenup without a second thought, foolish enough to believe in us—believe that what we had, a love that survived college and the loss of my parents, would withstand anything the future threw at us.

It didn’t.

And now I’m left to face the consequences of that blind belief.

Divorce… that meant giving up the house, the cars, and every other thing I’d worked hard for, but most of all, the company.

If I signed those papers now, the company my parents cherished before they died—the same company I spent the last several years struggling to keep afloat—would belong entirely to Julian, and it would only be a matter of time before everything crumbled to dust beneath his hands.

I… I couldn’t allow that.

“You can’t do it, can you?” Julian chuckles at my obvious hesitation, and in that moment, I want nothing more than to take off my heels and shove one straight down his throat.

But I don’t.

Divorce is one thing. Being charged for manslaughter is another.

“Since you don’t have the balls to sign the papers, I have a better way to fix both our problems.”

I should’ve known better than to entertain the words of a cheater, but despite myself, I do.

“…How?”

A victorious smirk slowly spreads across Julian’s lips.

“Let’s have an open marriage.”