All Chapters of My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

MIAHis mother’s voice cut the water in half, sharp and clear, like a blade through silk.“What are you doing in there?”Jake’s hand left me so fast the pool felt cold again — instantly, violently, like someone had opened a door and let the winter air rush in. His arm pulled back so hard it sent a ripple slamming into my ribs. I fumbled, shoving my skirt back into place under the surface, yanking my shirt down over my chest, my fingers shaking so bad I could barely grip the fabric. The world tilted right back on its axis, normal and cruel, and I turned toward the deck like I hadn’t just been falling apart in his arms.She stood at the edge with a folded towel over her arm, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, perfectly composed, looking down at me like I had crawled into the wrong family photo and didn’t know how to apologize. Her expression wasn’t angry — it was disappointed, which was worse. Disgusted, almost, like she’d caught me rummaging through her drawers.“I —” My voice came

MIA The files were on the bed when I walked in — thick manila folder, Ryan’s sharp, slanted handwriting across the label, the one he always grabbed when he left in a hurry. I stood there for a long moment, the silence of the last three days pressing in on me — three nights of Jake’s empty chair, last night’s quiet, cruel voice in the dark: you’re not his taste. I told myself this was normal. A wife bringing her husband the work he forgot. He’d say thank you. Maybe he’d kiss my forehead. Nothing breaks. Nothing changes. Just a normal morning. The office was bright, too bright, glass walls and polished floors and people smiling when they saw me like they knew exactly who I was. “Mrs. Hale. He’s in his office. Go right ahead.” Their voices were warm, professional, and I almost turned around. Almost. My feet kept moving forward anyway, down the hall, past the desks, toward the door that was never fully shut. His door was ajar. A woman’s voice came through first, clear and sharp, lik

JAKE The dining room went quiet the second the door clicked shut behind him. My mother’s voice died mid-sentence about centerpieces, and I stood up so fast my chair scraped the floor. I couldn’t sit there another minute — couldn’t stare at the empty spot where Mia should have been, couldn’t listen to them talk about flowers and weddings like her absence was normal, like she hadn’t just vanished into thin air leaving nothing but a ring on an office floor and a silence that hurt to breathe through. I walked through the kitchen, checked the living room, glanced up the stairs — all empty, all still, every room feeling smaller and colder than it should. Then I saw the back door standing ajar, cool night air seeping through the gap, and I stepped out. Ryan was already in the backyard with a cigarette when I found him. Leaning against the fence, one boot propped on the lowest rail, smoke curling slow and thin into the dark sky. The house behind us was quiet — windows lit warm from in

MIAWe stayed on the bench long after the Ferris wheel lights started to look cheap — too bright, too neon, buzzing like they were already tired of burning. The music had cut out ten minutes earlier, leaving only the distant hum of machinery and the soft rustle of the wind through the empty snack stands. Jake sat with his elbows on his knees, hands hanging loose between them, not touching me, not leaning in, not even looking at me most of the time — like if he kept enough space between us, none of this would count as a mistake. The park was almost empty now, the last stragglers drifting toward the gates, workers flipping switches and pulling down tarps, wrapping the park up for the night like it was just another day. A worker dragged a heavy black trash bag past the ticket booth, plastic scraping loud against the pavement, and didn’t look at us twice. We weren’t anything special. Just two people sitting quiet on a bench.“Clara will be good for your family,” I said, and my voice s

MIAI woke up in his bed and for a long, disorienting moment I didn’t remember where I was. The light was different — softer, greyer, filtering through thin, plain curtains Ryan would never have allowed in any room we shared. The sheet still smelled like him — clean soap, faint salt, uncomplicated — and the dream was still warm on my skin: his mouth on my neck, the weight of him over me, the way he said my name like it was the only word that mattered. My body hummed with it, half-awake and still thrumming with that sharp, aching want, and for one reckless heartbeat I forgot I wasn’t his. Then memory came down hard — the office, Lena on his lap, the ring hitting the floor, the Ferris wheel spinning slow and endless, Jake leaving me here alone — and I sat up fast, chest heaving, cold air hitting my bare legs.Keys turned in the lock. The front door creaked open. A paper bag crinkled in the kitchen.Jake was already here.I looked down and realized in a sick rush of panic I was still