Who's The Mistress..

~~Scarlette~~

Ethan stood frozen, staring at me as if he hadn’t heard a word I just said.

My cheeks blushed pink from how crude my words must have sounded, but shyness was a luxury I could no longer afford.

"Ethan?" I waved my fingers in front of his face, my stomach twisting with unease. "Did you hear me?" My voice trembled a bit.

Ethan finally blinked.

Of course, he had heard me. Loud and clear. But my dear husband, always so careful, always so composed—would find a way out of this. He always did.

"Kitten… um…" He cleared his throat, forcing a smile.

"You should rest. It’s late, and we just finished celebrating our fifth anniversary. That was huge, right? Let’s just..." His hand landed lightly on my shoulder, steering me toward the bedroom door, trying to end the conversation before it even began.

But I wasn’t letting this go.

"No!" I snapped, shoving his hand off.

His eyes darkened, caught off guard by my sudden outburst.

"Why can’t we have sex, Ethan?" My breath hitched, anger bubbling up and spilling into my frustration. "It’s been so long since you touched me. And right now, I’m starting to think otherwise."

His jaw tightened. "Scarlette, that’s enough." His voice turned sharp. "You’re trying to start an argument, and it’s pointless."

"Pointless?" I let out a bitter laugh. I was so fucking tired. Tired of having to pretend to be sane.

"You think having a baby is pointless? Five years, Ethan. Five fucking years!"

"What the hell is wrong with us having sex?" My chest rose and fell quickly. "You’ve been avoiding me. Not touching me, not even making love to me as your wife."

I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Tell me.. Ethan, why can’t we have sex?" The words slipped out sharper than I intended, but I was done going soft on my husband.

"If you think I didn't notice, or I didn't crave to be touched, then you must be joking." I spun on my heel and stormed into the bedroom.

Ethan followed.

It had been eight long months since Ethan last touched me, and yet he acted as if it wasn’t a big deal. As if our marriage could survive without intimacy. As if I should be okay with it.

I walked to the vanity table, my fingers moving quickly as I removed my jewelry, earrings, necklace, rings, and dropped them onto the glass surface with soft clinks, not bothering to replace them into the jewelry chest.

My chest felt tight, frustration and desire crawling under my skin.

I stood, walked to the closet, and grabbed a silk nightdress, slipping it on before sitting back down at the vanity.

Ethan was already heading toward the bathroom when I suddenly spoke.

"Fine. If you won’t have sex with me, and you don’t think having a child is important, let’s adopt one."

My voice was calm, but desperation lingered in the words. There I said it.

Ethan stopped mid-step, his hand gripping the doorframe. Slowly, he turned to look at me.

"Adoption?" he echoed, his eyes hardening like he had not heard me clearly.

I met his gaze in the mirror. "Yes. Let’s adopt a child."

A long silence stretched between us before Ethan’s throat flexed with a hard swallow."And this… is it for you? Or is it for my mother?"

He didn’t get it. I could tell by the stubborn look in his eyes.

The fight bled out of me, and my exhaustion returned tenfold. I exhaled, turning my back to him. "Whatever, Ethan. But it’s happening."

I heard a sharp scoff, as the silence thickened with tension in the dimly lit room. Then without another word, he stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

That night, the quiet between us was unbearable.

Ethan came out from the bathroom, barely sparing me a glance. Not even bothering to make another comment on our discussion, he climbed into bed, pulled the sheets over himself, and turned away as if he had nothing to worry about.

I turned off the lights and slipped into bed beside him, forcing myself to push away the day’s frustrations.

I wrapped my arms around Ethan, hoping that maybe he’d feel something. That maybe he’d remember I was still his wife. That a woman was holding him. But he didn’t even flinch.

And in that moment, I couldn’t help but wonder... maybe Mother was right.

Maybe I really am just a stick—unwanted, unfelt, invisible. A tear slipped down my face as I untangled myself from him and swallowed the bile rising in my throat.

Just as my eyelids grew heavy, a message beeped from Ethan’s phone.

I tensed up.

Usually, he turned off his phone before bed. Why hadn’t he tonight? Was he expecting something?

Another beep.

I glanced at him to see him still fast asleep. His breathing was deep, steady. He was already snoring.

I hesitated for only a second before reaching for his phone on the nightstand. The screen was locked.

Strange. Ethan had never locked his phone before, or maybe I just haven't noticed that he has started locking his phone. My stomach tightened at whatever the hell I was thinking—checking my husband’s phone. Only insecure women did that.

I flung the phone aside, but something shifted in me, and I picked it up again.

I tried my birthday.

Incorrect.

His birthday.

Incorrect.

Our anniversary.

Wrong again.

A cold chill ran down my spine.

With shaking fingers, I tried his middle name.

{Thane.}

The phone unlocked.

And then I saw messages from an unknown number.

My breath caught in my throat as I clicked on them.

{Baby, when are we going to see again? I’ve missed you!}

{Let’s meet tomorrow. Damn, I need to see you. Address below.}

My hands trembled as my whole world stilled. My lips parted, but no sound came out.

Ethan… was cheating on me?

No. No, this couldn’t be real. Not my Ethan. Not the man I had loved for years.

But the proof was right there, glowing on the screen in the darkness.

I had been stabbed by the one person I trusted most.

I clenched the phone tighter, my chest tightening, my stomach twisting with nausea.

Who was she? How long had this been going on?

A thousand questions burned in my mind, but none hurt as much as the one I couldn’t ignore.

Was I ever enough for him?

The night stretched on, long and torturous, but I never closed my eyes. I just sat there, watching the familiar stranger in my bed sleep with no worry in the world.

***

Morning came too quickly—too damn quickly.

As I opened my eyes, the sting of betrayal returned, raw and cruel. My vision blurred with fresh tears. Last night played over in my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

I have heard stories of husbands cheating behind their wives, but I never… I never thought it was going to happen to me.

Ethan and I. It felt so strange, yet it invoked a hatred so deep inside me, I wished I could grab a pillow and hold it over his head.

Just last night? I was almost on my knees begging him to make love to me, while some other woman somewhere was…yearning for him?

A fist squeezed tightly around my lungs as I turned over to find the other side of the bed… empty.

Ethan was already awake—fully dressed, standing in front of the mirror and humming softly to himself.

Fresh anger oozed through me, burning holes through his unbothered back. He had probably seen the messages by now. But here he was, in a jolly good mood, as if nothing had happened.

As if we hadn’t fought. As if he hadn’t shut me down. Like he wasn't fucking another woman behind my back. Goddammit!

I sat up slowly, stretching my arms and legs.

"Ethan..." I murmured, rubbing my eyes. "You're up early… and dressed already."

He glanced at me through the mirror with a casual smile. "Yes, yes… I’ve got an important meeting in a few minutes."

He turned, straightening his jacket. “Kitten… about what we talked about yesterday…”

I stood up, walked to him, and began adjusting his tie. My fingers tightened a little too much around the knot. I imagined what it would feel like to just… pull. Hard. Strangle the lies out of him.

But no. Not yet. I still needed proof.

I hadn’t yet confirmed who she was. But I had plans to do so. Today.

Today, I’d find out if Ethan truly was the man behind those messages. If he really had another woman…

“Yes?” I returned calmly. "We talked about a lot. So… which part exactly?"

He gave a small, nervous laugh. "The adoption. I think we should think it through. We shouldn’t rush into any harsh decisions, you know?"

His hands landed gently on my shoulders. It took everything in me not to recoil from his touch.

“Ah. Yes. I thought about it too… last night.” I cut him off, and looked him straight in the eyes, forcing a smile. “You’re right. Maybe adoption can wait. Until I… confirm a few things.”

I might be a fool. But I wasn’t ready to confront him directly. Sleep had cleared last night’s emotional fog and my newfound clarity and anger eroded my earlier vow to react too quickly until I did what I had to do.

He nodded quickly, clearly relieved. “Good. That’s… good.”

Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I stayed still, like a statue, letting it happen.

Liar.

He picked up his briefcase and left, and the squeeze in my chest became almost unbearable. It was Monday, and Ethan didn’t have to be in the office until 10 A.M., It was two hours earlier than the time he usually leaves home, which could only mean one thing.

He was leaving to meet his whore.

I watched the door close behind him, my stomach a mess of nerves.

Call me crazy, but I won't rest until I find out who my husband is seeing today.