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?”

Faye's POV

“What's with the sudden topic?” I responded warily.

“Well, Dwight said that if I’m with him, I won’t ever have to go through childbirth,” she replied, a faint smirk curling her lips. “Oh, and I’ve already met Phoebe. She likes me a lot.”

Her smugness was barely hidden, but it was enough to ignite my anger. “Don’t even think about getting near my child,” I warned, my voice sharp.

“That’s not up to you,” she shot back, her tone equally fierce.

The fury surged, and before I could stop myself, my hand flew to her cheeks.

I didn’t want to argue anymore, so I turned away and headed upstairs. But as I reached the stairs on the second floor, Lizzie suddenly rushed after me, grabbing my arm tightly.

Before I could react, she let out a dramatic gasp and flung herself backward, pretending I had shoved her down the stairs.

The front door swung open just then, and Dwight walked in, catching the scene at the worst possible moment.

“Faye, what the hell are you doing?!” he roared, his face twisting in fury and accusation.

He ran over to Lizzie, his hands trembling as he checked her injuries. “What happened to your face? Did she hit you?”

Lizzie, clutching her forehead, looked up with tears brimming in her eyes, her voice weak and pitiful. “Dwight, it’s bleeding... do you think it’ll leave a scar?”

Then, with a sob, she added, “I’m sorry, Dwight. I must have rubbed Faye the wrong way. I’ll pack my things and leave right away. Don’t worry about me.”

“Don’t say that. Let me take you to the hospital,” Dwight said gently, comforting her before turning to glare at me, his expression cold and venomous.

“Faye, if anything happens to her, you’ll pay for this,” he snapped before scooping her into his arms and heading out the door.

“I didn’t push her,” I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.

“Still lying? I saw it with my own eyes!” he barked. “If Lizzie hadn’t messaged me about forgetting some documents, I wouldn’t have even known you were capable of such cruelty. You’re nothing but a vicious woman!”

He didn’t care to hear my side of the story. To him, Lizzie’s words were undeniable truth.

It was clear that she had calculated everything, making sure I'd walked right into her flawless trap.

But what disappointed me was the years Dwight and I had been together. The six years of marriage were easily gone and crumbled under the weight of one moment. He believed an outsider over me, the woman who had stood by him for years.

That night, as I was about to fall asleep, Dwight stormed into the room, his icy demeanor sending chills down my spine.

“Get up. You’re coming with me to apologize to Lizzie,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

“I didn’t push her. What am I apologizing for?” I shot back, defiant.

“Stop playing innocent. I saw you push her with my own eyes,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “Faye, how can you be so petty? She’s just a young girl, and you can’t even tolerate her.”

Ignoring my protests, he yanked me out of bed.

I barely had time to throw on a coat over my thin nightgown before he dragged me outside. The biting winter wind sliced through the fabric, making me shiver uncontrollably. But the cold outside was nothing compared to the ice spreading through my heart.

When we reached the hospital, he pulled me into Lizzie’s room and shoved me toward her bed.

“Apologize,” he demanded.

However, I only stood there silently, refusing to give in.

Seeing that, his patience snapped. “Faye, you pushed someone and you're not even going to apologize for it? What’s wrong with you?”

“Did you hear what she said to me yesterday?” I asked quietly.

“She was just joking around. Why take it so seriously?” he dismissed, as if it was nothing. “This is the last time I’m asking—apologize to Lizzie.”

I stared at him, the man I had loved and trusted, and felt an overwhelming wave of disappointment crash over me.

Without a word, I turned and was about to walk out of the room.