My Husband Wants Me To Serve His Mistress

I had been married to Blake Wilson for five years, and in those five years, it seemed like every few days, a new woman was paraded through our door.

Each time, I would listen to the sounds of their passion filling the next room, marking it down in my memo.

Five years and ninety-eight times.

Today, it was a fresh-faced, delicate college student.

Once they were done, Blake called for me to come in and clean up.

Kendall Davis lay lazily in his arms, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she spoke, "Blake, is this the old, ugly wife you mentioned? The one who can’t even stir the slightest bit of desire?"

Blake idly ran his fingers through Kendall’s hair, offering nothing more than a dismissive grunt.

Kendall tossed the blanket aside, her skin marked with fresh hickeys, her grin wide. "See? This is how a man reacts to a young, beautiful woman. As a woman, you really failed."

I stayed silent, my gaze fixed on the floor, as I quietly cleaned up the mess.

Their laughter echoed through the room, a cruel reminder of the silence that surrounded me.

Once I retreated to my room, I pulled out the divorce agreement from the safe.

Five years had passed, and in all that time, it felt as though I had forgotten Blake and I were only bound by a contract.

One week. Just one more week and the divorce would be final.

——

The next morning, I woke early, as I always did.

Blake had already called me three times, demanding breakfast in his bedroom.

Without a second thought, I refused.

"Don't you have hands or feet? Should I feed you bite by bite?"

I ended the call just as Blake stormed into the room, his finger jabbing at me.

"Laura, who are you throwing a tantrum at? Don’t forget whose house you're in and who you're talking to!"

I didn’t respond. Instead, I lifted my eyes to meet his, studying the face I’d once known so well, the face I had loved.

I knew he had never loved me, but the sting came from realizing that, for five years, he had never truly seen me as a part of his life.

Finally, I lowered my gaze, my voice soft but firm. "I’ll leave this house sooner or later."

His anger flared, his voice rising. "Leave this house? You’ve been living off me all this time. How will you survive when you’re gone?"

Before I could reply, Kendall’s voice cut through the tension, lazy and dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, the old woman’s throwing a tantrum again? What’s wrong? Getting old and can’t bear seeing Blake with younger, prettier women?"

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just strip off your clothes and crawl into Blake’s bed? But—"

She laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. "With that face, no man would even blink."

I slammed the spoon down onto the table, the sound sharp and sudden, like a match sparking something deep inside me.

Blake, who had been standing nearby, scoffed.

“Did Kendall say something wrong? Are you throwing another tantrum?”

I pressed my lips together, silently clearing away the half-eaten cereal before heading toward the kitchen.

Kendall’s triumphant voice floated from the dining room. “This is too good. Just stay obedient and play your part as the old housewife.”

“Enough, stop talking.”

Blake’s tone was scolding, but I could hear the underlying indulgence in his words.

I stared at the faucet, my thoughts drifting like a fog, so much so that I almost let the water overflow.

Then, a hand reached from behind and turned off the faucet.

“What are you lost in?”

The voice was too close, and when I turned, I found myself trapped in Blake’s intense, unreadable gaze.

I lowered my head again, focusing on the dishes in front of me.

“It’s nothing. I was just thinking about what comes next after the divorce.”

“Divorce?” Blake’s voice was laced with amusement as if I’d just told him a joke. “You’ve been with me since college, playing the dutiful housewife for five years. You’ve been cut off from the world. After we part ways, what will you even do?”