Chapter 7: The Other Lady in My Marriage

VIVIAN'S POV

This had to be some of the worst days in the novel.

I remembered it. Catherine was a constant pain in the ass. That Saturday morning, the knock came at the door like a familiar one.

I wasn't expecting anyone. I was in the kitchen in a rough T-shirt and shorts. My hair was tied up, and my mouth was full of cereals.

I had spent the whole morning cutting samples, and my floor was littered with threads.

The buzzer rang, and I walked to press the intercom.

“Who is it?”

Then came the voice, another familiar thing that morning.

“Catherine. I'm here to see Alexander…” Her voice was quite polite, like she owned the place.

I opened the door before I could think of flaring up.

Light makeup. Gold earrings. She looked like she was coming from a magazine shoot, holding a container in both hands.

“Vivian, good morning,” she said with a smile, one I wasn't ready for.

“I hope I'm not interrupting anything?” she added.

A part of me wanted to lean forward and throw her a dirty slap across her smoothly blushed cheeks, but I thought it over and didn't go ahead with it.

Actually, I wished I had.

“Is there anything you want?” I said with a raised eyebrow.

I mean, who smiles at a female visitor who came to see her husband so early in the morning?!

“You haven't answered my question,” I said after I noticed she was trying to pop her head in, even from the entrance.

“Can I at least come in?” she said before letting herself in.

“I made too much soup. Alexander would love this. He always forgets to eat when he is stressed,” she uttered.

“You know how he is,” she added.

I scoffed.

The audacity. I was already infuriated.

“He works too much. He has always been like that since college. He would stay in the library until three A.M. in the morning, then come to my dorm for coffee and a....”

“Isn't that right, Alex?” she blurted after a short pause.

I didn't even realize Alexander had walked out, standing behind me.

“Uhmm… Catherine… what are you doing here?” I heard him stutter.

“I brought this for you… You sounded tired over the phone last night. I thought you might not have eaten…” she spoke like I wasn't even there in the first place.

“You didn't have to do that,” Alexander said.

“I wanted to.” She walked past me into the kitchen and opened the cabinet where we kept the plates.

It was like she knew exactly where she was going. She didn't have to ask.

“Oh wow. You remember where everything is,” I said as I rolled my eyes at her.

She turned to me with a wide grin. “Alexander gave me spare keys when he traveled years ago. One of the sweetest things about him…”

Alexander didn't say a word. He didn't tell her to leave. He said absolutely nothing but stood there.

I watched as Catherine operated the microwave like it was hers and signalled to him, “Less salt, right?”

He nodded in response.

She placed the bowl in front of him and rubbed her hands slightly on his shoulder. “You should eat well, Alex. You know you still have that meeting with the Tokyo office by 12 p.m…”

My eyes widened in surprise. “And how did you know about that?”

“Richard actually mentioned it at dinner last night. He is worried about everything that concerns him…” She glanced at me.

And there goes that name. Richard Blackwood… Alexander's father. Of course, it had to be him making the choices about who to tell things to!

I stood on the other side of the table with my arms crossed whilst I stared at the both of them.

“You have a lot of work today, right?” Catherine suddenly asked me.

“Yes, a lot…” I replied in a haste.

“For your brand? That's really nice. Alexander told me about it.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, he mentioned it. Just briefly,” she said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“What you are doing is really nice. Fashion can be so competitive, but you are brave,” she commented.

It felt harmless and harmful at the same time. I was being treated like a guest in my own home.

I couldn't just take it anymore.

“I need to see Natalie,” I voiced out, picking up my bag from the couch.

“Wait, like right now?” Alex looked up at me.

“Yes,” I said with a straight look.

“But Vivian, we need to talk about....”

“We can always talk later… Enjoy your soup.” I didn't wait for an answer as I walked out the door almost immediately.

“This is humiliating,” I said to myself as I walked for twenty blocks with no intention of going to Natalie's.

“Maybe I am overthinking it, huh? Perhaps Catherine is just being Catherine because she has known him for twenty years?”

I began to question myself as I walked back home.

The apartment was quiet.

“You are back,” he said in a soft voice.

I didn't respond.

“Where did you really go?” he asked again.

“I went out, as you can see,” I answered nonchalantly.

“Catherine left…” he uttered like he knew what was bugging me.

“I can see that…” I said.

“She… she just wanted to check on me…” he said without me asking.

“I know…” I replied coldly.

He stood up and walked towards me. “Vivian, about the key....”

“What key?”

“The spare key. She had it from before we were married. I forgot she still had it,” he replied.

“Oh, I see…” I scoffed loudly.

“I'll ask for it back.”

“Don't,” I said in a haste. “If you ask for it back now, it'll look like I told you to. I don't want that.”

He frowned. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to decide. Not because I told you. Because you think it's right.”

He stared at me, like he was trying to understand the rules of a game he hadn't agreed to play.

“She's my friend, Vivian,” he said. “I've known her since I was eight.”

“I know…”

“She's going through a lot with the foundation.”

“I know…” I answered again like a robot.

“So you understand?”

“No, Alexander, I don't understand. I understand she's your friend. I don't understand why your friend knows where my bowls are and I don't know where her apartment is.”

He didn't say a word. I knew he had no words in his mouth.

Later that evening, I went into the shower to get my moisturizer, and a thought just flickered across my mind.

I froze on the spot.

“Vivian!” Alexander's voice snapped me out of it almost immediately.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine.”

“You're not fine. You're quiet.”

“I'm thinking…” I uttered in a low tone.

“About what?”

“About how well she knows you… and how little you know about me.”

He reached out like he wanted to touch my arm, then dropped his hand.

“That's not fair…”

“Isn't it? What is my favourite soup, Alexander?”

He blinked. “What?”

“My favourite soup. What is it?” I asked with my eyes shut.

He was about to speak when a text popped up on his phone.

His countenance changed the minute he saw it.