Ruin Me

Mona’s POV:

My.

Husband.

Is.

Gay.

The truth kept echoing over and over in my skull. A brutal, unending rhythm. I stood frozen, his phone a dead weight in my hand. I didn't know whether to scream or collapse. I was just... hollow.

All this time, I'd believed he was buried in work, too exhausted for me. I never imagined he was bending over for another man.

*Moon Goddess, what did I do to deserve this?*

Just as the ground felt like it was giving way, his voice cut through the silence.

"Babe, I think I left my..." My husband appeared from the hallway, a towel secured around his waist. His steps faltered as he took in my stricken face. "...phone."

I could only stare, silent tears carving paths through my makeup. What other lies were hidden behind that concerned expression?

"Mona?" he asked, stepping closer. "Are you okay?"

A short, disbelieving laugh burst from me, the sound sharp in the tense air.

"Are you seriously asking me if I'm okay?" I whispered, the laugh dying as quickly as it came.

"Is this about the anniversary?" he said, reaching for me. "I told you I'd make it—"

"You've been sleeping with Beta Kael, haven't you?" The words cut through his excuse, hanging in the tense air between us.

His face went blank, all expression wiped clean. Then, a forced, nervous laugh escaped him.

"Mona," he said, the laugh brittle, his face a mask of feigned confusion. "W-where is this coming from?” 

"I've seen the pictures, Marcello!" I screamed, the agony ripping through my voice.

I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.

"Mona, it's not what you think—"

"Oh, really?" I spat, stepping back from him. "Then what is it? What does it look like when my husband sends a video of of him stroking his dick to another man?!"

"Please, just let me explain—"

"ANSWER ME!" The yell tore from me, tears now streaming down my face uncontrollably.

"I didn't know how to tell you," he said, his voice pleading as he moved closer. "You have to try to understand, please.”

"So that's why you couldn't touch me?" I shook my head, my red-rimmed eyes narrowing in disgust. "Because you were too busy bending over for him?”

"Mona, please," he begged, reaching for me.

"Don't," I stated, moving out of his reach. "Just stop."

He stood frozen, speechless, scrambling for words that didn't exist.

I turned and snatched my car keys from the table.

"I'm leaving."

"W-what? Where are you going? It's the middle of the night!"

"Call your lover to keep you company." I wrenched the front door open, leaving it gaping behind me as I marched toward my car.

He followed me out into the night, his pleas hitting the driver's side window as I shoved the key into the ignition.

"Mona! Mona, please!" he yelled, pounding on the glass.

I didn't look back. The engine roared to life, and I slammed my foot on the accelerator, speeding away into the darkness.

******************

“Another one,” I slurred, shoving my empty glass across the sticky bartop.

The bartender refilled it without a word. I threw it back, welcoming the familiar burn as it scorched a path down my throat. Was that the twelfth shot? Or the thirteenth?

Damn. I'd lost count.

It didn't matter. All that mattered was the numbness I was chasing. I needed the alcohol to drag me under, to pull me out of this waking nightmare. I just wanted to drink until the world disappeared.

A part of me screamed to call Keisha, but shame held me back. What would I even say?

‘Hey, guess what? Marcello's been distant because he's in love with his Beta.'

The thought was so bitter I could taste it.

I was already motioning for the bartender to pour another when a deep voice cut through the haze beside me.

"That’s your last one.”

*What the—*

I spun on my stool, ready to tear into the idiot who thought he could dictate my drinking.

"And who the hell do you think you are to tell me—"

The words died in my throat the second my eyes landed on him.

My jaw went slack.

He was tall, built with the kind of broad shoulders that filled out a black button-down to perfection. The sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and the first two buttons were undone, revealing a hint of dark ink on his chest. His hair was dark, slightly curled, with a distinguished silver streak at the front and one stray strand falling across his forehead.

But his eyes…

They were gold.

Not brown, not hazel—gold. Like molten sunlight captured in amber.

For a full heartbeat, I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. And the way he was looking at me… please, no woman deserved to be looked at like that. It was a look that promised to consume you whole.

He was older, clearly in his late forties. But damn, he was devastating.

"Well, damn," I finally managed, blinking hard as I took him in. "If this is a dream, don't you dare wake me up."

“Hmm..” A slow, devastating smirk played on his lips as he swirled the wine in his glass. "Do you always come to the club dressed in lingerie?"

Lingerie?

My gaze dropped. Shit.

I was still in the red lace l'd bought to seduce my husband. I'd been so consumed by my rage and grief, l'd forgotten I was practically naked beneath.

"Well," | shrugged, forcing a casual tone I didn't feel. "That's what happens when you find out your husband is gay."

His golden eyes widened in genuine shock.

"Wait, what?” A short, disbelieving laugh escaped him before he caught himself, his expression shifting to a forced seriousness. "Shit. Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," | waved a dismissive hand, the alcohol fueling my recklessness.”My life is a fucking joke anyway."

"That's... a new one," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Fuck him," I declared, pushing the thought of Marcello aside as I leaned closer, closing the distance between us. The heat from his body was a tangible force. “I’m more concerned about you. You’re fucking hot.”

"You're drunk," he countered, though his light laugh was laced with intrigue.

"Maybe," | conceded with a shrug. "So, if I kiss you right now... is that cheating, or am I just reclaiming my worth?"

The words spilled out, shameless and raw. I felt no inhibition. Whether it was the whiskey or the heartbreak, all I knew was a desperate, aching need to be touched, to be wanted.

"I think you need some water," he replied, his voice a low rumble, though he didn't pull away when my fingers brushed his arm.

"I know exactly what I need," I whispered, my voice dropping as I raised my hand to stroke the strong line of his jaw, my fingers tracing his beard. "And water is the furthest thing from it."

"And what would that be?" he asked, his gaze darkening as he looked down at me, the gold in his eyes simmering.

I slid my hand to the back of his neck, applying gentle pressure to bring his face down to mine. I rose onto my toes, my lips brushing the shell of his ear as I delivered a whisper meant for him alone.

"I want you to ruin me."