The Other Woman Novels & Stories

Not at a desk, not posed with deliberation, but sitting in the particular natural way of someone who has been somewhere for a while and is still there — the posture of someone who is in the middle of something rather than at its end or its beginning. Her face was not visible. The silhouette was complete but the features were not — and this, Adaeze understood immediately, was right. This was the right choice. Because the woman in the silhouette was not her specifically. Was not any specific woman. Was the woman in the dark. Every woman in the dark. The woman who was reading messages she was never supposed to see and sitting at a kitchen counter with her hand flat against the cool surface maki

"We don't have to get divorced. I've cut all ties with Henry. We can go back to how we were." If she had said that long ago, I might have been moved. That promise was the whole point of the act. In the end, that amnesia act showed me the truth instead. I fished my phone out and played a voice recording. It was the night I stayed in the storage room, the night they went at it in the main bedroom. Every passing second of that recording drained more color from her face. "I've signed the papers, and I don't need the house. All I need is for you to disappear from my sight and never show up in my world again."

An abyss of pink and purple hue looking like energy balls welcomed me, it magic slowly singing to me in melodious tunes, enchanting so I hopped in. *** "What do you need?" A woman demanded, pure white hair made into a ponytail and focused on her monitor screen. Her voice, she must be the rude bitch I conversed with over the phone. "I'm here to see the Troika. My reply made the woman turn up and adjust her glasses. She had snow-white eyes to complement the hair. "I'm sorry but the elders can only be seen for important situations." "My sister is freaking missing. Isn't that dire enough for you bunch of—adamantine..."

I’m here for answers, not to get my rocks off. “Back for pleasure this time?” I smile at the woman from last time, Carina. “No, still business.” “That’s no fun. Maybe next time.” “Maybe...” I see two men plowing a plus-size woman mercilessly. I feel my vagina jump. She follows my gaze and smiles at me.

"You did right, Ruth. You have been great, so great. That was nothing but self-defense, you'll be fine." Just as she was speaking, a woman in heels stepped into the room from behind them and stopped right before Sabrina. "So you are here to butt in?" Sabrina turned. The woman had big curls in her hair with a cigarette in her mouth. It was clear that this woman had been in the industry for years and was someone who could not compromise easily. Sabrina sneered. "I've already shown my picture to those four men of yours." "Wife to Master Sebastian of South City?" The woman returned the sneer.

Ann said “And what excuse did he give you for not showing up?” Martha said “Excuse? You wish” Ann replied sarcastically. “I met him having sex with another woman in his room” “What!!!!” Martha said, surprised. “Yes Martha. And guess who the woman was” Ann said waiting for Martha’s reply. “Just tell me who it is. You know I can’t guess”. She replied “ It's Jenny.” Ann said. “ which Jenny again? Your step sister??” Martha said.

The woman threatens. The shameless woman glared at the other woman and got up from her seat. She looked at Mr. Black with tears in her eyes and said, “You are making a mistake.” She said, pulling her arms out of the other woman's hand, “I can see myself out.” She angrily said this and walked out of the room, followed by the other woman. I could only sit there, watching the scene unfold in front of me. Wow, this is an interesting interview; it's better than a movie.

She could handle these bastards. The two women continued talking while I stayed at their back, alert, observing any bastards who wanted to pick a fight. It would be better if they would look for a fight. I wanted to lift off some steam. The woman, whom Nathalia briefed me as Miss O kept on glancing at me. According to Nathalia, she was her colleague back in college. Miss O had a pixie cut which suited the frame of her face. I didn't like the way she looked at me.

I hate to disturb them, but I have to know if they’ve seen anything. “Yeah? What’s goin’ on?” the woman calls. “‘Nother crazy woman lost in the woods,” the man mutters. “Oh, I’m not crazy. I may seem like it at the moment, but I’m not,” I assure them. “Did you say you saw another woman in the woods? Recently?” “That’s right,” the woman says. “She weren’t friendly, though.” “Probably in a hurry with all them bundles she was carrying,” the old man adds.

Her dress was simple, elegant—nothing flashy like the others, but she stood out in a way that demanded attention. The blonde woman looked her up and down, a sneer forming on her lips. “Who are you?” The woman smiled, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m just someone who knows how to treat people with respect.” She turned to me, her gaze softening. “They don’t seem to understand the value of real connections. Don’t let them get to you.” I blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The other women stared at her for a moment, and then they looked away, realizing that she wasn’t someone they could manipulate.