Whose Panties Are These?

Katrina's POV

“Mum, it smells weird back here!” My son, Leo, exclaimed from the backseat, his tone annoyed and filled with disgust.

Weird? Didn't Adrian get the car washed yesterday?

Confused, I glanced in the rearview mirror, hands still gripping the steering wheel as I tried to ignore his dramatic, scrunched up face.

Leo was only eleven. A kid. And kids smell weird things all the time, don't they?

So why does this one time bother me? Why do I actually feel uneasy? 

Could it be…because of that night?

I quickly shook my head, gripping the steering wheel tighter as I dismissed the train of thoughts. He was just bluffing, that's all.

“What kind of weird are we talking about?” I asked, my voice slow and cautious, unsure of what I was expecting.

“I don’t know. Like… fishy. Or something.” He shrugged, taking one more sniff before making a blehhh sound.

My brows slowly furrowed together.

Wait, a fishy smell?

I signaled and pulled into the empty parking lot of a strip mall, the car immediately rolling to a stop under a flickering streetlamp. 

I turned back to Leo, trying to spot any obvious stains or packages from where I sat, “Where?”

Leo pointed vaguely at the seat beside him. “The seat! It’s all grossed up.”

I unbuckled my seatbelt and came down, opening the door to Leo's side so I could inspect further.

My fingers brushed the leathery seat, tugging on something neatly hidden in between the folds. Ew, why does it feel slippery? And why would anyone hide something this wet in here?

With one final tug, I pulled it out.

But it wasn't what I expected. Heck, it wasn't even close to what I imagined.

I stared back at the fabric in my hands, the colour on my face draining as a wave of nausea and anger tore through my gut.

This was a woman's thong. A red, Victorian's secret G-string that could only be worn for intimate reasons.

And the last I remember, I stopped wearing these a long time ago, placing Leo's priorities first before mine. My underwear drawer was full of cotton panties and high-waisted shorts.

And even if I did have the old collection back at home, these looked nothing like them. No, this wasn't mine.

Then, the smell that Leo had been talking about hit my frozen figure, forcing the realisation of what happened here to dawn on me.

Right there on the seat. Around the folds I'd pulled out this filthy secret, were dried patches of semen.

The same ones currently soaked in the panties in my hands.

Adrian.

“Mum? What's that?” Leo's curious voice immediately snapped me out of the brewing emotions.

“Close your eyes, Leo!” I exclaimed, wiping the silent tears as I quickly tossed the panties out.

“Can I look now?” Leo asked, his lips curling downwards into a frown as he watched me with confusion. “What's going on?”

“It was…something dead,” I answered, forcing a smile through the stinging tears as I sprayed a disinfectant across the seats and headed back to my seat, chest heaving silently as I blew my cheeks out and nodded slowly, letting the situation really sink in.

“Mom?” Leo asked, his tone now cold and oblivious to what'd happened. “Can we get ice cream?”

I couldn’t answer. The lump in my throat was too big to swallow back down. Especially when three days ago, I'd gotten a heads-up about Adrian's infidelity.

My best friend's husband, Christian, suddenly asked for me to meet up at a cafe at a given time. I felt it was too suspicious. A trap. A mistake I shouldn't keep from my own best friend.

But he insisted I come alone, and that dinner will be on him. After much thought, I accepted for the sake of our past, shrugging with the probability that he needed my help to surprise my best friend.

I nearly choked on my coffee that evening when he shamelessly said his wife, my very own best friend, was fucking my own husband.

Of course I didn't believe him. Not right away. I felt so stupid and disappointed that I wasted my Friday evening with a prank like this.

I'd have been on my favourite couch, snacking down a movie after making sure Leo was asleep.

I forced out a laugh back then, hitting his elbow with a tight-lipped smile before telling him never to make that kind of joke, ever.

But when he didn't laugh or didn't change the icy cold expression on his face, something bitter burned in my throat as I stood up to leave.

I thanked him for the dinner, but held back from slapping him, and instead told him to never contact me for something this absurd again.

Without waiting for him, I walked out that night. Furious? Yes, but now completely torn between giving extra glances between my best friend and my husband, and deciding to trust that my husband will never, ever, betray me this cruelly.

My husband? But what about my best friend too? I'd seen the way she lit up anytime Christian walked into the room. 

I concluded that they probably had a fight, and now Christian wanted to take it out on me. That he'd misunderstood something because Sarah would never do something like that to me. We'd been friends since college. She'd been my maid of the hour. Heck, she always supported my marriage from the beginning.

I didn't believe him. I couldn't believe it.

But the semen on my seats said otherwise.

But it couldn't be Sarah. I'm damn certain that Adrian was cheating now, but it couldn't be my best friend. 

She wasn't even in town last night. 

“Mom! I said I want ice cream!” Leo yelled, his voice drowning out the ringing in my ears. My hands shook on the steering wheel but I pushed back my emotions with a sniff.

I couldn't let Leo see my tears. Bringing him into this situation will only force him to pick sides. And I couldn't do that to my own son.

My reflection stared at me from the windshield. Instead of a gorgeous, powerful woman from years ago, I stared back at the current version of myself: a pale face with dark circles and my hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. 

I looked exactly like what I was: a stay-at-home mother who hadn’t slept properly in years.

“No,” I finally answered, my tone flat and cold, suddenly remembering the reasons why Leo couldn't have too much sugar. “You had ice cream yesterday.”

“So? Sarah lets me have ice cream whenever I want.”

That name bolted through my head like a slap. I watched my own eyes narrow in the reflection.

“What did you say?”

Leo shrugged, his attention now completely focused on his phone. “Sarah. She bought me, like, three scoops last time. She said I deserved it.”

Sarah. Why did her name always keep coming up around my husband? And how long has she been feeding my son sugar knowing fully well what the doctor said that day!

“When was…last time, Leo?” I dropped his phone on the seat, the coldness in my voice matching the look in my eyes. 

Leo finally looked up, his face a mixture of confusion and guilt. He knew he’d said something wrong, but he didn’t know what.

“When we went to the zoo,” he said slowly. “With Dad.”

The parking lot lights flickered a bit. A car drove past, its headlights briefly sweeping across the windshield like a searchlight, shining down on my towering figure for some seconds.

“When did you go to the zoo with Dad and Sarah?”

Leo’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked away. “Dad said not to tell you.”

Another pinch in my chest. Since when did Adrian start keeping secrets from me?

I took a deep breath.

“Leo, it's bad to keep secrets from your mum. If you answer, I'll give you back your phone.”

He shrugged again, groaning as he stared up with annoyance. “I don’t know. A few weeks ago? Sarah took pictures of me and Dad. She said we wanted us to look like family.”

Family. 

Saying it out loud felt like someone had driven a knife into my chest. It shouldn't mean anything because I consider Sarah as family, but not when it was clear there was something going on behind my back.

“She bought me cotton candy too,” Leo added, as if that made it better. “And she didn’t make me do my homework before bed. She said I could stay up as late as I wanted.”

I could almost hear the anger and malice in his voice.

I stared at him. My son. My handsome, oblivious son, who had no idea his mum was falling apart right in front of him.

“She’s nice,” Leo said, grinning happily as he looked into my eyes to make sure I really heard him. “I wish she was my mom.”

The parking lot went very quiet after his wish. Even the distant hum of traffic was completely gone as the car suddenly felt suffocating and smaller around me. I could hear my own heartbeat, a dull thud in my ears, pounding loudly over the sound of my own heaving.

“You don’t mean that,” I whispered, pain heavy in my voice.

Leo looked at me then, really looked, then flashed me a disgusted look, “Why would I lie about second mum? She's more fun! She doesn't make me do things I don't want to! She loves me very much!*

“We’re going home.” I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't want to listen to this, especially knowing that the worst part was that Leo was just telling his truth in the way he saw it.

“BUT I WANT ICE CREAM.”

My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against my thighs, trying to stop the tremors.

He muttered something under his breath—probably calling me boring, or mean, or whatever eleven-year-olds called their mothers when they didn’t get their way. 

I didn’t care less, as long as he stayed healthy enough for his Sucrose Intolerance not to kick in again.

My mind was racing, spinning through every interaction I’d had with Sarah over the past few months. The times she stuck closer to him at events than I could. The days she’d offered to babysit Leo so I could have a “break.”

A break. 

A break could have been her fucking my husband while I was at home folding laundry.

I slammed into my wheel a couple of times, cursing under my breath as I drove out of the parking lot. Sarah would never! She was married, I was married! I have a kid with Adrian! Or could Sarah have been blackmailed with something else to take the fall for his mistress?

Another loud honk. I don't know what to believe anymore!

The drive home usually took about thirty minutes, but today? It simply took twenty. 

Thankfully, Leo had fallen asleep, so that meant more time to think, and less time to work, especially since Adrian wasn't still home like he promised.

Just then, a message popped up on my screen: the cameras pinged me that you're back. I'm having a late meeting. Don't wait up.

A meeting this late?

Let's see how honest you've been, Adrian Harts.

I clicked on the dialing option on my screen, ringing up his phone for a video call.