I tried to push Quiana’s words out of my mind, convincing myself she had lied. But as the night stretched on and morning finally broke, Mark still hadn’t shown up. Exhaustion had finally overtaken me on the living room couch, the ache in my body a dull, constant reminder that I’d waited up for him. I’d imagined him coming home, gently lifting me up, and carrying me to our bedroom like the loving husband he once was. But he never came.
Around 6 a.m., I was jolted awake by the rumble of his car engine outside. I forced myself to sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as he walked through the door, his suit jacket slung over his arm, his expression hard as he spotted me.
"Don’t tell me you slept on the couch," he said, disapprovingly. "That’s not proper."
I pushed myself to my feet, steadying myself before I looked at him. “Where were you, Mark?”
He sighed, uninterested. “I slept outside.”
“Where?”
“Do you need to know?” He shook his head dismissively and started walking toward the stairs, his back turned to me.
But I wasn’t going to let him brush me off this time. “You spent the night with Quiana at her house. Why?” My voice was unsteady, but I forced the words out, determined to get answers. He paused, turning to face me, his expression colder than I’d ever seen it.
“I did. She was alone, and it looked like it would rain heavily last night. She didn’t want to sleep by herself. The lightning frightens her.”
“That’s it?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You spent the night there because of some thunder? Mark, she’s your…she’s not your responsibility.”
“Are we really doing this?” His eyes narrowed, his tone mocking. “Monique, you knew I’d be there for her if she needed me. It’s not like I can just pretend she doesn’t exist.”
“And what about me?” I felt a knot forming in my chest, the hurt spilling out in my words. “You didn’t even check on me yesterday. I waited for you all night, thinking you’d at least care to come home.”
He scoffed, taking a step closer, his gaze piercing. “You? I know you too well, Monique. Nothing serious happened to you. You were probably pretending…just like you pretended a year ago after that fire accident.”
My chest tightened, the anger flaring as I stepped toward him. “Seriously? Pretending? I saved you from that fire, Mark!”
His expression didn’t soften, and instead, he crossed his arms, voice steady and almost robotic. “Fine, let’s say you saved me. But Quiana got hurt. You’re fine, Monique, but she’s still suffering since that accident. Stop always trying to matter in times that you shouldn’t.”
The words hit me harder than I could’ve imagined. I stared at him, feeling my throat close up, a chill spreading through me. “Meaning… I don’t matter to you?”
“That’s your saying,” he replied, shrugging off my pain as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “By the way, there’s a meeting at the company. Make sure the high staff are there. It’s important.”
Without another glance, he turned and left, leaving me standing there, my heart splintered, my worth to him reduced to nothing. I could still feel the weight of his dismissal as the door clicked shut behind him, the silence louder than any storm.
Mark was ready before me later that morning, suit crisp, confidence radiating off him as he checked the time. I, on the other hand, was pulling myself together despite the doctor's orders to rest. I wasn’t getting much sleep, and stress was taking its toll on me, but I couldn't bring myself to slow down. Somehow, a part of me held on to the belief that if I kept being there for Mark—if I kept showing up in every way that mattered—he might finally see me, appreciate me, maybe even love me the way he used to.
When we left, he held the car door open, his gesture so automatic it felt devoid of meaning. As he drove us to Smiths, his family’s company, I tried asking about the meeting’s agenda, but he merely shrugged. "You'll find out soon enough," he replied, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
Smiths Empire had grown exponentially under Mark’s leadership, a responsibility his grandfather had entrusted to him as CEO right after our wedding. As we entered, employees greeted him with the utmost respect, their eyes filled with admiration. I felt that familiar pang—a feeling that no one saw me standing beside him. Not as his wife, anyway. Just as I was beginning to blend into the background, a voice called out.
“Mark!”
He turned, and the stern expression he wore disappeared, replaced with a smile so genuine it almost startled me. There stood Quiana, his administrative assistant, the woman he had lifted to that role despite her complete lack of experience. She walked up to him and hugged him tightly, offering me only a casual wave. My heart tightened, but I forced a smile, swallowing the hurt.
“Remember what I said, Monique,” Mark said to me, his smile fading as he gave me a brisk nod, directing me to handle the meeting arrangements. I nodded obediently, feeling a chill as he and Quiana walked together down the hall to his office, her laughter echoing behind them.
I watched as a few employees exchanged knowing glances, their expressions clear: some of them mistook Quiana for his partner. That sting of being invisible hit me again, sharper than before. I had worked as an HR assistant for three years, giving up my own career as a writer to support Mark, yet he had never once considered promoting me. But for Quiana, he had gone above and beyond, even setting up a private office for her on the same floor as his. Meanwhile, I was left to work in the open space, an afterthought in my own husband’s company.
Pulling myself together, I went about notifying the senior staff about the meeting. Within the hour, the boardroom filled up. I stood behind Mark’s chair, waiting, but soon, Quiana walked in, her gaze flitting to me with a hint of smugness. She took the seat closest to him, the one that was always kept for her.
When Mark finally entered, I took a step back to make room for him, feeling more like an outsider than his wife. The meeting began, and Mark wasted no time, directing a few questions to the management team. Mr. Paul, the manager, answered his inquiries diligently, and soon, everyone in the room was relaxed. Then, Mark cleared his throat.
“I have an important announcement to make,” he said, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on me. My heart skipped a beat, hope flooding through me. He had once told me that he wanted me by his side to help him grow Smiths. I held my breath, almost certain this was my moment.
“The COO position has been vacant for a week now,” he continued, “and I’ve decided on a replacement.”
I tried to keep my composure as he glanced toward me again, almost expectantly. But then he turned to Quiana and said, “The new COO is Quiana.”
There was a gasp, and Quiana, sitting next to him, clapped a hand over her mouth, looking for all the world like she was surprised. But the way she instantly leaned into him, her arm around his shoulders, her lips pressing a quick peck to his cheek—it was all too smooth, too rehearsed. She had known.
I stood there, dumfounded. How could he do this?
