Faye's POV
Dwight casually said, "Lizzie’s apartment building is under renovation, and it’s too noisy for her to stay there. I figured she could move in here for a while. She can even help take care of you.”
I laughed bitterly to myself. This was the same man who once told me this was our home, yet now he walked in with another woman like it was nothing.
Standing beside him, Lizzie put on her best innocent act, speaking in a soft, sweet voice. “Don't worry, Faye. I’ll leave as soon as the renovations are done.”
I didn’t bother to respond. Instead, I shut the door to my room with a cold finality.
But as expected, Dwight’s anger flared from the other side of the door. “What’s your problem now? Lizzie was being polite—why didn’t you answer her? She’s just a kid! Why are you making this such a big deal?”
A kid?
I was only two years older than her! Why am I the only one who should tolerate everything?
Well, it was probably because Lizzie was his secretary—young, pretty, and conveniently always around him. Looking back, I should’ve noticed the signs earlier.
Recently, the two of them had grown closer. His late nights out and unexplained absences became more frequent.
Then one day, I stumbled upon their flirtatious text messages on his phone. That moment shattered any remaining illusion I had.
I quietly took screenshots of their conversations, saving them as evidence—for a future divorce, if it came to that.
Trying to justify himself, Dwight added, “Faye, you’re about to give birth. You shouldn't harbor negative emotions—for the baby’s sake.”
I glared in the door's direction, my eyes filled with a mix of anger and disillusionment.
In the past, I turned a blind eye to his behavior, sometimes arguing with him when I couldn’t take it anymore. But all that did was make me look like the bitter, nagging wife.
Now, I was done. This relationship was broken beyond repair, and I had no energy left to fight for it.
Later that night, I stepped out of the room to get some water, only to find Lizzie lounging on the couch in a revealing nightgown, exchanging flirtatious glances with Dwight.
When she saw me, she feigned politeness. “Good evening, Faye.”
Despite that, I ignored her entirely and went back to my room.
I assumed Dwight would stay in the guest room with her and not return to the master bedroom. But after the lights went out, I heard the soft creak of the door opening.
He tiptoed in and placed a cup of warm honey water on the nightstand. Then, his hand gently rested on my belly as he said in a low, tender voice, “Sorry for earlier, honey. I simply couldn't turn a blind eye when someone I knew needed a hand.”
I laughed at the absurdity of his words, bitterness clawing at my heart. “What about me? Have you considered what would I feel?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “You’re my wife, Faye. You’ll understand, won’t you?”
Before I could respond, a sharp knock interrupted us.
“Dwight, my showerhead isn’t working. Could you come take a look?” Lizzie’s soft, syrupy voice called from the other side of the door.
“Sure, I’ll be right there,” he said without a second thought.
Afterward, he left without another glance, leaving me alone in the dark.
That night, he didn’t return to our room. The guest room was right next to ours, and in the silence, I could hear faint sounds that pierced my heart like needles, one by one.
The next morning, Dwight left early for work, leaving just me and Lizzie in the house.
“Hey,” she began casually, a hint of mockery in her tone, “Giving birth must be really painful, huh?”
