My Husband's Mistress Looks Like Me

"Boom -"

"Boom -"

The rain outside the window was so heavy that it was like a thin veil covering the sky of Squareburg, with low-hanging black clouds, and the wind swaying, making it impossible to see clearly beyond five meters.

At Laneshire.

Holding the mobile phone, Sherry Wallis looked fixedly at the ambiguous pictures sent from the mobile phone.

It was a picture of a woman kissing her husband.

"Ms. Wallis, I'm sure you've seen the photo, so without further ado, I've slept with Pacey Grant and he said he would marry me."

Hearing this, Sherry chuckled.

"What are you laughing at? Don't you believe it?"

Sherry got up from the sofa and suddenly her eyes went black. She took a few seconds to get her breath again. Her hypoglycemia seemed to have gotten a lot worse recently.

She shook her head, whose tone was mild but words were sharp: "Since he promised you, why are you still here? Miss, are you short of money for an abortion? Or contraceptives? Are 30 dollars enough? I can take it as a handout for the prostitutes, or...to settle the money for your photo retouching."

"You don't have to put it so harshly. I know you're very angry right now, but with a man as good as Pacey, can you still expect him to have only one woman for the rest of his life?!" The woman screamed.

Sherry just chuckled and said, "Yes, he will only have me in his life."

They had known each other for ten years and married for three years. They once started a business together and survived the days of having nothing. How could she trust an outsider instead of her lover?

At night, Pacey took faltering steps to knock on the door.

Sherry hurried up to him. As soon as the door opened, the man approached her, hugged her tightly with his long arm, and put his jaw on her shoulder, as if they were inseparable. He called her: "Sher~~"

Sherry was afraid that he would fall, so she took his full weight with her body. This man, no matter how strong he was outside, would always show his childish side in front of her.

She helped the man to the bed: "Why are you so drunk again?"

Pacey lay on his back on the bed, his arms tugging, pressing her underneath him, his drunken eyes as deep as night. Since when did the high-spirited and vigorous young man grow into a man that she could not see-through?

He nibbled lovingly at her slender neck, "Sherry, say you love me."

Sherry had always obeyed him. Even when he bit her painfully without knowing it, she still indulgently inserted her lily-white fingers into his short hair, "Pacey, I love you."

From the moment she gave up on his clingy pursuit, to the moment she nodded to be with him, Sherry never thought she would love anyone else in her life.

"Let go of me first. I'll make some sober soup for you, otherwise, you will have a headache tomorrow." She whispered.

As if he hadn't heard, he held her tightly, which seemed like he wanted to embed her in his body, "Sherry, you are mine."

Sherry nodded: "Yes, I'm yours. Could you let go of me now?"

As if satisfied with the answer, Pacey's head pressed against her shoulder, and fell into sleep.

Sherry got up and skillfully undressed him, blaming him with a little crossly for acting like a child and sleeping without caring anything after being drunk. "How come after all this time you still..."

Sherry froze on the spot after she saw the crimson lipstick mark on his white shirt.