Lahat ng Kabanata ng Teaching My Fiancé’s Mistress How To Keep Him: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

The first time my client, Zara Ellis, said her boyfriend's name, I paused.Half the men in this city were named Alex. I told myself that and let it go. But some part of me kept turning it over long after she’d moved on.The second time the name slipped out of her mouth, I found myself looking up at her without meaning to. She held out her phone, a photo of her boyfriend glowing on the screen. “This is him,” Zara said, her voice soft with affection.My eyes moved quickly to the photograph out of nothing more than professional curiosity, the kind you feel when a client has spent the past twenty minutes describing a stranger to you. At first, I caught only pieces of him, his height, his broad shoulders, his dark hair. Something about him felt familiar, but I was too far away to make out his face. I leaned forward and looked closer, and the recognition arrived before I was ready for it, a kind of cold understanding that started somewhere behind my ribs.That was Alex. There was no mist

Zara's next session landed three days later. The wait had been unbearable, but I’d learned patience the hard way this past week.“You know what scares me the most?” Zara’s voice cut through the quiet. I looked up from my notepad, her fingers were laced tightly in her lap. “What's that?” “That I might have started loving him even more.”I let the silence sit between us instead of answering right away. A therapist’s office has to feel safe, no judgement, no pressure, no consequences for saying the wrong thing, and right then I needed Zara to feel safe enough to keep talking. “What makes you think so?” I finally asked.“Because he's trying.” A smile almost broke across her face.“How?”“Since our last session, he changed. He talks to me more. He listens. He even complimented me a few days ago.” She wasn’t hiding her smile anymore.She looked lighter than she had in weeks, and I found myself wondering if that lightness would survive the truth.“He did all that?”She nodded. “For the fi

I was fairly certain the message Zara had seen wasn't meant for her, and it wasn’t for me either. Then who was it for? And whatever the answer turned out to be, I needed something that didn’t come from Zara’s mouth or my own suspicion. My whole morning was spent circling these thoughts, and they followed me all the way to my father’s house.“You’re quiet today.”I looked up. My dad was watching me from across the living room, his glasses low on his nose.“Just tired,” I said.He studied me for a moment as if trying to read my thoughts straight off my face. On the coffee table between us sat samples of invitation cards, fabric swatches, and a folder Jenna had put together for the wedding. My wedding. I still couldn't believe how calm I was, still pushing forward with the plans.But I didn’t want to step back yet. I would keep giving Alex the illusion that we were still getting married. If he thought I still trusted him, he’d have no reason to change his behavior around me, and I neede

Lucienne sat between a bookshop and a florist, behind a green door with a brass handle worn smooth by years of hands. Inside, it was cool and quiet and smelled like butter and lemon. Soft jazz drifted from somewhere near the kitchen, and the clink of cutlery followed it.The hostess, a young woman in a black apron, looked up with a bright smile. “Table for one?”I’m actually hoping to see the dining room,” I said. My fiancé and I are thinking of celebrating our anniversary here.”It was the lie people tell every day. It slid out clean. It scared me a little how easily it came.“Of course let me show you.”She led me through the dining room, past white tablecloths and low candles, and out into a courtyard where a small stone fountain trickled in the center. Ivy climbed the walls. String lights hung overhead, unlit in the daylight.“This is our most requested spot,” the hostess said, gesturing to a corner booth tucked against the tile. A small brass lamp shaped as a shell glowed beside

I had told Zara to come the next morning, she arrived ten minutes late, which was very unlike her. Her hair pulled back carelessly and her eyes swollen, the lids pink and heavy.“I told him,” she said, sitting down heavily. “Not about the results. Just that I thought he might have been with someone else,”My brows drew together. “How did that go?”“He didn’t get angry.” She frowned, like she was still replaying the moment, looking for the part that made sense. “He just asked me a question. He said, when was the last time you were with someone else? Who did you have before me?Something hot and tight twisted in my chest. “He turned it around on you?” I said.“I guess. I don’t know. He said it so calmly, like it was a fair thing to ask. He kept stirring his coffee the whole time, slow little circles, and he never once looked away from me.” She shook her head. “It threw me off. I ended up apologizing to him. Can you believe that? I apologized.”I could believe it because I had spent thre