Sydney returned and said a lot of apologetic things, but only one sentence stuck in my mind.
“Can you stop being unreasonable? If I still had feelings for Kya, we would’ve already gone to the courthouse and divorced long ago.”
The next day, I went to the beauty salon with my best friend for a treatment. To my surprise, I bumped into Kya.
I glanced at her expensive clothes and jewelry, then at the beauty salon’s nameplate and felt a pang in my heart. Sydney was really generous.
Kya, noticing my displeasure, sneered, “Sorry, Florence. I accidentally slept with your husband yesterday. Hope you're not upset about that.”
She laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “You still love him, don’t you? I can see why Sydney’s so sure you’ll forgive him. He was so confident about it last night.”
“You know,” she continued, “When Sydney found out that the baby isn’t mine, he was ecstatic. Treated me like I was some kind of treasure he’d just rediscovered.”
“What does that make you? A trophy wife, or just a trash to throw away?” She raised her eyebrow in mockery.
I put my hand on my stomach and chuckled. “I’m the one holding the marriage certificate here. What does that make you?”
I couldn’t help but keep going. “You really don’t have a clue how to be a mistress, do you? No one who’s actually smart about it flaunts themselves in front of the wife. They usually end up getting a reality check.”
Kya's face drained of color and she snapped back, “The mistress is the one who isn’t loved!”
Her eyes dropped to my slightly rounded belly and then she laughed again. “Which one do you think matters more to Sydney? Me or the baby you're carrying?”
I froze. How did she know I was pregnant?
Just as I was lost in thought, Kya charged at me in full speed, elbowing me hard in the stomach. I didn’t take it lying down. I grabbed her hand and kicked her in the knee. She fell to the floor and her clumsy, pitiful appearance made the staff snicker despite themselves.
That only made Kya angrier. She grabbed whatever bottles and jars she could find and hurled them at me. I dodged most of them, but one hit me squarely on the forehead and warm liquid dripped down my face. I didn’t care about my dignity at that point. I grabbed her by the collar and raised my hand to slap her.
But my wrist was suddenly caught with great force. I turned around to find it was Sydney. So they’d come together.
“Florence, have you lost your mind?” he said through gritted teeth. “Where’s your grace and dignity? Do you not realize you’re humiliating yourself?”
The words hit me like a slap. It was laughable, really—Kya had started this whole mess, yet he had the audacity to accuse me of causing a scene. At that moment, clarity struck me like a bolt of lightning. I’d been lying to myself all along. I realized how unworthy Sydney was of the nine years I wasted on him. He didn’t deserve my true heart.
I was thinking of booking an appointment for an abortion. I didn’t want to love him anymore. I wanted a divorce. I bit my lip, remaining silent, but my grip on Kya’s collar tightened. Every fiber of my being wanted to slap him now, but the strength disparity between us was too great. With no other choice, I released Kya’s collar and only then did Sydney loosen his grip on me. I jerked my hand free, wincing as pain radiated from my reddened wrist. I bit back tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
Sydney turned to Kya, rushing to her side like the doting hero. Once he was sure she was fine, he shot me a withering glare. But just as he seemed ready to berate me further, his gaze landed on the bleeding gash on my forehead. His expression shifted in an instant, darkening as he turned to Kya.
“Did you do this?” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous.
Kya paled, her confidence faltering. “I-i…. she started it!” she stammered. “She hit me first and called me a homewrecker in front of all the staff. I was only defending myself! Do you know how embarrassing this would be if word got out? So many wealthy women come here. I’d never live it down!”
Sydney didn’t say a word, his face still clouded with anger. Kya, sensing the tension, clung to his arm, her tone shifting to one of saccharine sweetness. “Okay, okay,” she cooed, swaying slightly against him. “I’ll apologize if it makes you happy. Just don’t be mad, alright?”
They looked so intimate, so oblivious to my presence, as if I were nothing more than an unwanted shadow. I stood there, feeling utterly foolish.
“Forget it. This isn’t a big deal,” Sydney muttered, dismissing it all as though nothing had happened.
After stopping Kya from apologizing, he pulled me outside. “Can’t you just stop making trouble?” he said, exasperated. “She just got back from abroad. This place had become foreign to her. She helped me back in school and I’m just trying to repay her kindness. You’re overthinking everything.”
