She Satisfies My Husband While I Burn It All Down

During my public lecture, I plugged in the USB drive to pull up my slides.

But the cursor slipped and clicked the wrong file — My Love.

The auditorium erupted in whistles and catcalls.

Then the audio played.

"James, tell me — am I better than Catherine Simmons…"

The room went dead silent.

I turned around slowly.

It felt like being struck by lightning.

I couldn't think about anything else. Like a woman possessed, I dialed James Sanchez's video call over and over until he picked up.

Through the camera, I could see a delivery uniform crumpled on the floor.

Water was running in the bathroom.

James lay back against the pillows, his expression bored and languid.

"Babe, I just ordered takeout. The delivery guy tripped when he got to the door, and then he insisted on using our bathroom…"

He kept rambling.

But a notification lit up at the top of my phone — a priority alert.

It was an Instagram story from my best friend, Julia Simmons.

"Door-to-door delivery. Today's treat has arrived…"

In the photo, a woman tilted her head with a coy smile, wearing a delivery uniform over her clothes. Behind her — my bathroom.

……

My hands trembled like butterfly wings.

I drove home. Nearly crashed getting there.

I'm going to tear them apart.

That was the only thought in my head.

The so-called clumsy delivery guy was already gone.

Before James could open his mouth, I snatched the uniform off the floor and hurled it into his face.

"You think I'm stupid?"

A flash of irritation cut across James Sanchez's handsome features.

It vanished just as quickly, replaced by a voice soft as silk.

"What's wrong?"

"Upset about working overtime? Then let's skip it. I'll take care of you."

His voice was lazy, drawling.

Like he was coaxing a puppy.

I froze.

Something white-hot clawed its way up my chest.

"Don't you think you owe me an explanation?"

James pinched the hem of the uniform between two fingers.

Tossed it back on the floor.

"Explain what?"

"That I'd be interested in some delivery driver?"

"That I'd spend your overtime hours going at it with her for rounds on end?"

Amusement bled into those dark pupils.

"Catherine, don't let your imagination run wild."

"We're bound together for life, you and me."

The anger that had been burning through me cooled inch by inch.

He was too calm.

It made me look like the crazy one.

"Let's get a divorce."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them. Every ounce of fight drained out of my body.

James stared into my eyes, unblinking. Then a cruel smile twisted his lips.

"Really?"

"Catherine?"

He climbed off the bed, slow and deliberate, and walked to my side. He grabbed the cabinet door and wrenched it open. A wall of paper toppled forward.

Every single sheet was a divorce agreement.

"We've signed eight of these already."

"And gotten married eight times."

"I give you everything you want. How is that still not enough?"

I wanted to say I wasn't throwing a tantrum.

I wanted to say I'd seen the eight hundred videos of him and Julia.

Every word jammed in my throat.

Sharp enough to cut.

He nudged the papers on the floor with his foot.

Then gently wiped the tears from my face.

"Catherine, you're so starved for love."

"She's a delivery driver. You really think I'd look twice at someone like that?"

"Catherine, you need to learn to think."

His breath ghosted across my skin.

"Or maybe… what you really want is this."

He pulled me into his arms.

Long, angular fingers hooked open the nightstand drawer.

Inside sat a full box of condoms.

I glanced down.

Strawberry flavored.

A laugh ripped out of me, sudden and sharp, filling the room at the worst possible moment.

Something lurched in James's chest. An unease he couldn't name.

"What's so funny?"

My words dropped one by one, each hitting the floor like a stone.

"James Sanchez. I'm allergic to strawberries."