“Evie, I promise, from now on, I’ll never forget your birthday again,” Hunter said softly, his tone filled with regret.
Evelyn looked at him, her lips pressed into a faint smile, but her thoughts betrayed her composure. Evelyn looked at him, her lips curving into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. On the surface, her expression appeared composed, serene even, but her thoughts simmered beneath the mask she wore.
“Hunter,” her mind whispered coldly, “there won’t be a next time for us. From the moment you betrayed me—betrayed our marriage—I decided I could never forgive you.”
When they arrived home, Margaux Fairchild, Hunter’s mother, was there to greet them at the door.
“Evie, Hunter, you're just getting home? Where have you been?” greeted Margaux Fairchild, Hunter's mother, warmly as they arrived at the house.
“I took Evie out for dinner,” Hunter said smoothly, slipping right into his role as the loving husband.
Margaux’s eyes landed on the necklace around Evelyn’s neck and a pleased smile spread across her face. “That’s great, son. You two look so sweet together. It makes me so happy to see you getting along like this.”
“You must be worn out after such a long day. Go on upstairs and get some rest," she added with a gentle wave.
“Exactly. Evie’s probably wiped out after working all day. I’ll head up now, Mom.”
“Of course! I’ll have her bring it right to your room,” Margaux said with a nod, her voice filled with motherly concern.
Evelyn stayed quiet the whole time, letting the mother-son duo chat. Her face was calm, not showing even a hint of emotion. When they finally reached their bedroom, the moment Margaux’s approving gaze was no longer on her, a cold bitterness settled over her.
For years, Evelyn had believed in the bond she shared with Margaux. Even though Margaux was well aware that Evelyn came from a humble, almost struggling background, she had never looked down on her. Margaux had always treated her with kindness, never making her feel unworthy or out of place. Their relationship had seemed genuine—a connection built on mutual respect and care that Evelyn had treasured deeply.
But it turned out to be nothing like she had imagined. The feelings she thought were mutual were, in truth, entirely one-sided.
Last week, Evelyn had overheard a conversation between Hunter and Margaux outside the study door. It was the kind of revelation that shattered illusions.
“You get yourself a graceful, understanding wife at home and a sweet little gem outside. Good,” Margaux’s voice had been casual, as though she were discussing something as trivial as weekend plans.
“Just make sure to play it good. Don’t let Evie find out,” she added with a light laugh.
The memory cut through Evelyn like a knife, leaving her with nothing but the chilling realization that her bond with Margaux had never been mutual.
“What’s wrong, Evie? Is something bothering you?” Hunter’s voice pulled her back to the present.
“No,” she replied, her tone neutral and distant.
Hunter moved closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. His touch, once comforting, now made her skin crawl. “Evelyn,” he murmured, his voice dripping with an intimacy that sickened her.
Evelyn turned to face him, her expression composed, but the look in his eyes—familiar and filled with desire—made her stomach churn. “I’m tired,” she said curtly, cutting off whatever intention he had.
Hunter seemed to take the hint. He rested his head on her shoulder and sighed. “Alright, then, I won’t push. Let’s take a bath together instead.”
“You go ahead. I have some work to finish,” she replied evenly.
“Okay,” he relented, pressing a kiss to her forehead before heading into the bathroom.
Hunter spent an unusually long time in the bathroom and when he finally emerged, there was a hurried urgency in his demeanor.
“Something came up at the office. I need to head out for a bit. Don’t wait up for me—just get some rest.”
Without waiting for her response, Hunter grabbed his keys and left in a rush.
Evelyn watched from the window as his car disappeared from the driveway. Then, without hesitation, she grabbed her own keys and followed him.
Half an hour later, Evelyn arrived at a villa—one of Hunter’s properties. From the shadows, she watched as Hunter greeted Jennifer at the door. The two embraced, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss that made Evelyn’s stomach turn.
She pulled out her phone and recorded the scene, her face devoid of emotion as she documented the betrayal. The irony of it all was almost laughable.
Evelyn stayed parked outside the villa for two hours, but Hunter didn’t come out. Instead, her phone buzzed with a notification. It was a post from Jennifer’s social media account.
The caption read: [When you meet the right person, you’ll fall in love with them over and over again.]
Accompanying the post were three photos—a faceless couple sharing an intimate kiss in bed, a luxurious bubble bath for two and a limited-edition bracelet Evelyn recognized all too well.
Jennifer was a minor celebrity and the post quickly garnered attention. Comments flooded in, praising the supposed romance:
[Wow, so happy for you! Your boyfriend’s so sweet!]
[Can we get the details on what happened before and after the bubble bath?]
[You’re new here? We’ve seen her in bubble baths one so many time. It’s their favourite!]
