My Fiancée Betrayed Me in Her Dialect, But I Understood Everything

Daniel's POV

It started at a casual get-together Regina Jones threw for some of her close friends. My fiancée, the sweet, soft-spoken girl I thought I knew like the back of my hand.

Halfway through the evening, she stepped out, saying she had something to take care of.

Two hours passed.

No text. No sign of her.

I was about to get up and look for her when I heard fragments of a conversation drifting from the corner of the room. Her girlfriends were talking, using their hometown dialect with a Cajun accent, thinking I wouldn't understand.

They were dead wrong.

"This idiot doesn't even realize he's been thoroughly cuckolded," Lena said, laughing under her breath.

Jasmine leaned in closer. "I bet right about now, Regina and Erickson are having a hell of a time."

Stacey joined in with a sneer. "Regina told us Daniel's size doesn't even come close to Erickson's. She only got with that loser out of pity. They've known each other since they were kids. Look at him—sitting there like a clueless joke. He doesn't even know we're mocking the hell out of him."

I froze where I was, one foot halfway off the ground.

My mind went blank.

And then, right on cue, the door opened.

Regina walked in.

She was soaked with sweat. Her legs wobbled slightly with each step. Her cheeks were red, and her lips parted slightly as if she hadn't caught her breath yet. She looked like someone who had just finished screwing in a back room.

And behind her was Erickson Carter, cool as hell, with a casual hand resting gently on her shoulder. Just two old "friends."

Sure.

"Ha! Well?" one of the girls called out, grinning. "Was the affair exciting? You really know how to have fun!"

Regina smirked, brushing some hair behind her ear. "Of course. Once we started, we couldn't stop."

——

There was no need for a confession. I'd seen it with my own eyes—the dark, unmistakable kiss marks that dotted her neck.

I sank back onto the couch, feeling empty and numb, like the wind had been knocked out of me.

But they kept going, joking in their dialect like I wasn't even there.

Regina pulled her hand away from Erickson, possibly because of guilt or simply for show, and then turned to me.

She paused for a second, then walked over and sat beside me as if nothing had happened.

One of the girls laughed again. "Why are you so tense? He can't understand us. If we were speaking Italian or French, maybe you'd need to worry."

"Yeah," another chimed in. "Speaking in Cajun is great. He's got no clue what's going on!"

"Geez, you guys are evil," someone else giggled. "Ganging up on poor Daniel, the out-of-town city boy."

Regina visibly relaxed when she heard them. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to my lips.

"Daniel, don't take it personally, okay?" she said sweetly. "We came from the same town. Every time we get together, we slip into a Cajun accent. It's just a habit."

I neither flinched nor uttered a word. I clenched my fist so tightly it hurt.

They didn't know that before I moved to Los Angeles, I lived in the same state they were from, in the same town, with the same roots and dialect.

I understood every damn word.

And because I didn't say anything, they took it as confirmation. They thought I was clueless. They thought I didn't care.

They kept going.

"Regina, be honest," one said with a smirk. "Erickson's bigger than him, right? I've got money on this."

Regina didn't even hesitate. "Oh, definitely."

Another one pointed at her. "Look at that glow. That's what satisfied looks like."

"God, this whole thing is such a rush," a girl squealed. "I never realized how useful Cajun could be."

"Poor guy. He's sitting right there, and he doesn't have a clue," Regina's third friend chimed in.

Erickson shot me a smug, sideways glance as if he'd just won something. Then he leaned in closer to Regina and mouthed something barely loud enough.

"Regina, why don't you just marry me already? Why keep wasting time with him?"

Regina laughed, her hand brushing my shoulder in a mockingly gentle gesture. Her voice softened, though every word carried arrogance.

"Marry you? Not a chance." She shrugged, almost casually.

"I know the difference between real and pretend. You're just a distraction—something to satisfy a craving. But the man I love? That's still Daniel."

She smiled warmly, as if she'd just confessed something tender. As if those words weren't a knife.

"Could you put me first in everything? Spoil me, treat me like royalty? You can't. You've got that temper. Only Daniel can. When I was sick with a fever, one call was all it took, and he would drop everything and fly back from overseas."

Her laugh was quiet this time, almost wistful. "I was scared, and he came running."

Listening to her talk, I didn't feel the warmth of those memories.

No gratitude.

No pride.

Just rage.

It simmered beneath my skin, boiling hotter with every word out of her mouth.

I loved her and poured everything I had into this relationship.

And this was what I got in return?

Then her face changed. Her smile dropped. She frowned.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath. "I forgot to use protection. What if I'm pregnant?"

Erickson's eyes shot wide. "What the hell's wrong with you? Go get the morning-after pill. Now."

"Heh…" one of the girls laughed darkly. "Actually, why don't we make Daniel go buy it? If we're gonna play dirty, might as well go all the way, right?"