ANNOYING FAT BITCH

Chapter 3

Skylar's POV

"Leave us for a minute. I'll call you." She told the man behind her. He left without a word.

I followed her into the lobby. It was quieter here. A leather sofa sat against the wall and there was faint smell of something expensive.

"Your personal assistant?" I asked.

"Yes." She smiled. "I own this place."

I gaped at her. "You? Oh my God, that's amazing."

"I'm still doing my best." She waved it off lightly, the way people do when they've worked hard for something and don't need anyone to confirm it. "How are you doing these days? How's your husband?" She pulled a bottle of whiskey from her drawer and brought out two glasses.

"I'm doing great. Everything is alright."

She frowned and set the glasses down. "I know you're lying. I saw you crying earlier."

"I wasn't."

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me. I just want to help." She smiled and sipped from her glass, patient, unhurried, like she had all the time in the world.

I looked at her for a long moment. What use was there in covering up for a cheating husband? She looked sincere. Not nosy, not performing concern. And hadn't I been looking for someone to vent to earlier? 

Hadn't I been so desperate I almost poured my heart into a group chat full of strangers who mocked me?

"What would you do if you found out your husband was in love with another woman?" I tried to keep my voice level.

She sighed and placed her hand on mine. The warmth of it surprised me. "I will walk away from the marriage."

I stared at her. I had never considered leaving. Not once. Not even on the worst nights.

"Yes, because no woman deserves that. When the love is one-sided, that's not love." She paused and looked at me directly. "Jason doesn't love you."

"I know." Tears started forming in my eyes. "But look at me, Mara. Who wouldn't get tired of someone like me? It isn't his fault."

"Hey." Her voice sharpened. "Don't do that. Know your worth. That's not an excuse for what he's doing to you. And you're a good-looking woman. Don't let anyone trample on you like that."

"You think so?" I smiled, but it came out wrong. "Even his mother and my own children trample on me all the time."

She shook her head slowly. "Time to wise up, girl. Walk away before it's too late. Who knows when he'll bring his mistress home and you'll end up being their housemaid. Cooking for them, cleaning up after them, invisible in your own house."

I looked at my feet. The thought sat in my chest like a stone.

"If you will do it, I have a lawyer friend who can get the divorce papers ready. It's going to work out, Skylar. You're going through a lot and it's going to affect your health if you stay."

I thought back to every violent outburst from Jason. Every name calling. Every sarcastic comment delivered with that particular smil. The one that meant he knew it landed and enjoyed it. And then the image on my phone. His mouth on her skin like I didn't exist.

"I'll do it." I looked up at her. "I can't take it anymore."

She smiled. "Give me a minute." She pressed her phone to her ear and turned slightly away.

I sat in the quiet and breathed.

When I left her office, I felt different. Lighter, somehow, as if a weight I'd been so used to carrying that I'd stopped noticing it had finally been lifted from my shoulders. I tucked the envelope her lawyer had sent down in under five minutes into my bag and walked toward the exit.

My shoulder brushed past a man in a suit near the door. I felt it before I saw him. A solid, unhurried presence. I glanced up briefly. He was handsome, well-dressed, the kind of man who filled a room without appearing to try. Grey eyes. 

He looked at me. Not the quick, dismissive look I was used to from men like him, but a steady one, like he was actually seeing me.

He kept staring as I walked out.

I paid no attention to him. I had a task to do.

Later that evening, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Jason outside, his tie loosened, his expression carrying the particular boredom of a man who expected dinner to be on the table.

"Welcome, babe." I greeted him warmly. 

He walked in without looking at me. "Where is everyone?"

"Your mother is upstairs and Ethan is in his room. As for Rory, I think her sleepover stretched to another day."

He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to me without breaking stride. I caught it. We went upstairs in silence. He showered, came out in a towel, and walked to his closet like I wasn't in the room.

"What's this, skylar? Didn't you take out the laundry? I told you to take out my laundry." He pulled a shirt off the hanger and examined it with a curl of his lip. "What can you even do properly?"

Before he could finish, I stepped forward and held my phone screen toward him. The photo filled the screen him, the hotel lounge, his secretary, everything.

He shut the closet slowly and turned to face me.

"Where did you get that?"

"So you're not even denying it," I said.

He sighed. The kind that said I was wasting his time. "Put that away. There are other things to worry about rather than lazing around and listening to gossip."

"Is it true or not?" I raised my voice. "Did you sleep with her?"

"So what?" He tilted his head. "How is that your business? There are some roles you can't perform. Shouldn't I get them elsewhere?" He laughed, short and sharp. "If I ever tried to touch you, the whole house would experience an earthquake. Just look at you." He swept a hand in my direction like I was a problem he was assessing. "I won't bring her home, so let it go, okay?"

My eyes burned. "You think I'll put up with this? You think I'll put up with you sleeping around?"

"Where did you get this audacity from, Skylar?" His voice dropped. "Shut up, you hear me?"

I reached under the pillow and pulled out the divorce papers.

"Let's get a divorce, Jason. I can't do this anymore."

He stared at the papers. Then his face changed.

He laughed. Hard. The kind of laugh that started in his chest and filled the whole room like I had just told the funniest joke he'd heard in years.

"Who put crazy thoughts in your silly head, Skylar?" He wiped the corner of his eye. "Where will you go? Who would ever want an obese woman like you? No one in their right mind. You're not even working. You have nothing in your name. So if you think my assets are going to be split in half, you're dreaming." His voice hardened. "You'll get nothing but the clothes on your back. Not even the children. I'll see to that. So if you know what's good for you, stay put where you are. Or get lost."

He snatched the divorce papers, tore them into pieces, and scattered them over my head like confetti.

"Annoying fat bitch," he said, and walked out of the room.

I stood there for a moment, the torn pieces drifting to the floor around my feet.

Then my legs gave and I sank down with them.

The tears came uncontrollably. Ugly, heaving sobs I couldn't pull back. I should have known better. This was never going to work. I had been foolish to even try. He had looked at those papers and laughed.

But even as I wept, a thought pushed through the noise.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and stared at the pieces of paper scattered across the floor.

I knew exactly what I was going to do.