PART 1
“If you pretend you don’t know anything, you can still be my wife,” Christopher said in the dark, his voice carrying a sudden coolness that chilled me far more than any confession ever could.
I had just asked him why, after three long years spent running operations outside of San Jose, he had returned home with the strange habit of wrapping his arm around my waist while I slept. He had never used to hold me like that during all our years together.
“Who taught you to sleep like that?” I asked quietly, staring at the shadows on the ceiling.
His arm immediately withdrew from my body, leaving a cold space between us on the mattress.
He got up without another word, walked out onto the balcony, and lit a cigarette, the tiny red embers glowing in the night air.
“Lorelei, there are things I don’t tell you because you simply don’t need to know them,” he said, blowing smoke into the dark. “Gwen isn’t like the other women, and if you don’t make a scene, she will never have any reason to bother you.”
He spoke without a single shred of shame, treating the entire situation as if I were the intruder in my own marriage.
“Then choose right now,” I told him, sitting up in bed and looking directly at his silhouette. “It is either her or me.”
Christopher clenched his jaw tightly, his eyes narrowing as he turned his face away from me.
For three long years, I had waited patiently for his return while he oversaw a massive expansion of the Pinnacle Crest Group across various branches in South America. We had talked endlessly about having children when he came back, about finally planning the grand wedding we never had, and about making up for all our lost time.
Yet from our very first night back together, I understood deep down that something was horribly wrong.
Christopher would arrive home freshly showered every single evening without fail.
He could easily wash away another woman’s perfume with hot water, but he had not considered that I would immediately recognize the sweet, synthetic scent of a body wash he had never bought for our house.
That very morning, I had discovered something even worse while looking through his private records.
Gwen Vance was twenty-seven years old and worked as a senior assistant in his international office.
Christopher had personally financed her brother’s fledgling business, paid for the extensive remodeling of her parents’ house in San Antonio, and traveled across the country specifically to attend her mother’s sixtieth birthday party.
Meanwhile, during those same three years, he had never once flown back to celebrate my birthday with me.
When I confronted him with these facts, his eyes lowered toward the floor in rare silence.
For a brief second, I foolishly thought I saw a flicker of genuine guilt in his expression.
Then he reached out and wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace.
“Just give me a little time,” he whispered softly into my hair. “I am going to break up with her very soon.”
Those words still carried the familiar, gentle tone of the man I had fallen in love with years ago, but I already knew that man no longer existed in the real world.
That night, Christopher slept alone in the guest room down the hall.
At two o’clock in the morning, I went downstairs to grab a glass of water and heard his quiet voice drifting from the kitchen.
He was sitting at the island, engaged in an intimate video call on his tablet.
“Why did you tell her about me?” Gwen asked in a sweet, childish voice that carried clearly through the quiet room. “Now she probably absolutely hates my guts.”
Christopher let out a light, affectionate laugh that I had not heard directed at me in many years.
“As long as I am standing right here, nobody is ever going to do a single thing to hurt you,” he promised her softly.
There was a brief pause on the line before her voice echoed through the speaker again.
“Come over early tomorrow morning,” she requested playfully. “I want to eat something you have personally made for breakfast.”
I remained entirely motionless in the dark corridor, holding my breath so he would not hear me.
The very next morning, I walked downstairs into the kitchen while still wearing my everyday pajamas.
Gwen was already standing inside our house, looking exceptionally comfortable in the space.
She was young, impeccably groomed, and smiling brightly as she openly embraced the man who was still legally my husband.
When she spotted me on the stairs, she gasped dramatically and hid behind his broad shoulders.
“Oh… I am so sorry,” she whimpered nervously. “I am just so afraid that she is going to get angry at me.”
Christopher looked at me immediately, his defensive posture making it seem as though I were a dangerous threat in my own home.
He stepped forward slightly and introduced us with a tense voice: “Lorelei, this is Gwen.”
I took another slow step down the wooden staircase, keeping my expression entirely neutral.
Gwen walked toward me holding a hot breakfast plate in her hands, her eyes wide with exaggerated innocence.
Before I could even reach out or touch her, she suddenly lost her balance and collapsed onto the hard floor.
Christopher instantly rushed past me to scoop her up into his arms with overwhelming concern.
“Lorelei! I explicitly told you not to hurt her!” he yelled, glaring up at me with real anger.
I stood completely still on the bottom step and stared down at him without blinking.
“I did not push her,” I said firmly, keeping my voice steady and calm.
“Gwen is extremely sensitive,” he snapped back, cradling her against his chest. “You cannot behave like a crazy person in this house.”
I looked him straight in the eyes and repeated my words clearly: “I did not push her. Look at me right now and tell me you actually believe me.”
Christopher hesitated for a few agonizing seconds, his eyes darting between my face and the woman in his arms.
Then Gwen buried her face into his shirt and began to sob quietly, pulling his full attention back to her.
He completely stopped looking at me, choosing instead to rub her back and whisper comforting phrases.
At that exact moment, I finally accepted that my marriage had not simply broken up over time.
It had been stone-cold dead for three whole years while I was waiting for him to return home.
What I decided to do next was something neither of us could have ever imagined in our wildest dreams.
