THE CEO'S MISTREATED WIFE

"She's nothing. Ignore her."

I heard my husband's voice. I should be excited because I've been waiting for him to go home since 2 PM.

It's already 7 PM and I'm almost done cooking our dinner.

His words hit me like a punch in my stomach, taking the air out of my lungs. I chose to leave what I was doing and walk towards the door to check. Istopped at the kitchen door, my hand shaking as I held the spatula I had been using to make dinner that I hoped he would finally share with me tonight.

Upon peeking, I saw my husband and he was not alone. Rogue was kissing a woman in the middle of our living room. He kissed her with a passion that he never showed me. He wouldn't even touch me, as if I had a disease that could get him infected.

I saw their kiss turn wild through a blur of hot, stinging tears formed in my eyes. They moved with a wild heat, taking over the space as if I were a ghost haunting my own life.

Rogue didn't just forget I was there; he used my presence to humiliate me. Just like what he always do in our two years marriage.

"A-Are you sure?" the woman gasped, her breath catching as Rogue's hands started to pull her clothes off her.

"She's just the maid, Cecille. Keep going." Rogue didn't even look at the kitchen. His voice was like a sharp, cold knife that cut right through me.

When I feel the familiar suffocation, I turned around and ran back into the kitchen's shadows as the sounds of their pleasure grew louder, filling the apartment like a thick fog. My heart raced against my ribs like a scared, hurt animal.

I leaned against the cold marble counter, and my stomach churned with a nausea so strong that I thought I might pass out.

I looked down at the Chicken Tikka Masala that I had spent all afternoon making perfect. I had watched tutorials for hours because I wanted to make him his favorite meal.

The fragrant steam now felt like a joke. Every moan and every sound of skin hitting skin from the living room made me want to scream.

I stood there, shaking, and held back my tears with my hand. I had loved him since college. I had spent years dreaming of living in his world, but when I got there, I found it was a frozen wasteland where I would die of pain.

"Are you done? Cecille is hungry." His voice boomed from behind me, sharp and impatient. I flinched violently.

I didn't even notice how long I was trying to ease the pain there, that I didn't realize they're already done. I could feel the raging disgust at the thought of him releasing on her. We never had sex before. He wouldn't share bed with me, as he always slept at the guest room. I had no choice but to let him, because the last time I tried to request, he just scolded me.

I scrambled to wipe my face, keeping my back turned so he wouldn't see the wreckage of my dignity.

"A-almost," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I'll set the table. I'll call you when I'm done."

"Hurry up. This is the only thing you're actually good for, and you're still pathetic at it," Rogue said. Every word was like a new cut.

"You are really useless, Adeline." useless. Funny. I've been doing everything for him. Following his commands, like an errand girl.

He even said that I'm his maid. I do all the things a housewife do for her husband, and he wouldn't even appreciate it.

Well, I'm not the one he loves after all. When his first love... come back? I know...it would be the end of this.

I bit my lip so hard that it tasted like metal. I couldn't fight back. I couldn't get away. Even now, in the ruins of my heart, the foolish girl inside me still remembered the man I thought he was.

I had prayed to God for this marriage. I had begged the universe for a chance to be with him. I could hear his footsteps getting quieter, and I knew that the gods had finally heard my prayer, but only to punish me for it.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice breaking in the empty room. "I'll do it, quick. I'll just call you."

He didn't say anything. I can only hear him walking away from the kitchen. I took a very deep breath and forced myself to calm down before I finished what I was doing.

The smell of the Chicken Tikka Masala I'd worked so hard on filled the kitchen, but as soon as the woman, I remember, the name was Cecille, that he brought here walked in, the smell turned to ash. She looked at the table I had carefully set, and her mocking eyes were calculating.

She stepped into my space and whispered, "You really think a home-cooked meal will make him forget everything else?"

I could tell she was making fun of me. Of course. She feels so good about herself right now because Rogue can't even treat me better than a used rag.

She grabbed a heavy crystal glass off the table and threw it on the floor before I could even think of a response. It sounded like a gunshot when it crashed. She kicked over a chair and threw herself against the counter in one smooth, blurry motion, letting out a scream that was both terrified and piercing.

She's out of her mind!

"Rogue! Please help me!"

"What the heck?" was all I could say as I started to panic because I hadn't done anything.

The sound of heavy, scared footsteps echoed down the hall. Rogue burst into the room with wild eyes and saw the mess. . . the broken glass at my feet, the chair that had been knocked over, and the woman in the corner, clutching her arm as if I had hit her.

Rogue's voice was a low, jagged growl that made my hair stand on end. "What happened here?"

"I just came in to help her," she cried. I was horrified to see her hold up her hand and see bright red blood spreading across her palm.

My heart didn't just drop; it shattered. "Rogue, t-that's not true. She did it to herself! I was just standing here—"

"Shut your mouth!" He didn't just look at me; he looked through me, his eyes burning with a soul-crushing mixture of pure, unadulterated loathing.

He lunged past me, his shoulder slamming into mine as he swept the woman into his arms. The tenderness in his touch was a knife to my gut.

"I heard the glass break, Adeline. I heard her scream in fear. Why would she hurt herself just to get back at you?"

"Because she wants you to hate me!" I yelled back, and the tears finally came, hot and bitter. "Please, just look at the mess! Why would I ruin the only thing I have left to give you? I worked all day on this!"

Rogue's eyes flicked to the table, but they didn't soften. It turned into a wall of black ice.

"Stop acting like a saint; we both know you're a devil in a cheap dress," he said, his voice full of anger.

"You're just a wh*re playing house in these awful clothes. Get out of my sight. Go to your room right now!"

I couldn't move, like a ghost in my own kitchen. The next thing I know was my husband, the man I had loved since college, take his woman away and whisper sweet, protective words into her ear that I had been longing to hear. And that woman's secret smug on her face, telling me that she've won.

Alone amidst the ruins of my effort, the smell of burnt spices, and the jagged glass, I finally understood. The truth didn't matter. To Rogue, I wasn't just guilty—I was a nuisance he couldn't wait to discard.