By the time Anna walked through the front door, the house felt empty. Andy was already gone.
"Did my husband eat before leaving for work?" Anna asked, setting her keys on the table.
Kayla, the maid, was wiping down the dining table with a damp cloth. She looked up.
"No, ma'am," she replied gently. "He left in a rush. Didn't touch a thing."
Anna let out a soft sigh and climbed the stairs, her footsteps slow, her mind turning.
In the bathroom, she stripped off her clothes and stepped under the cold water. It ran over her skin like needles, waking her up more than comforting her. She lathered her long blonde hair and rinsed the tension from her shoulders, but the unease in her chest lingered.
With the house quiet and no immediate plans, Anna decided to do some laundry. She started with little Aiden's tiny shirts and socks, then moved to Andy's closet. His work shirts, socks, undershirts—she gathered them all into the laundry basket.
As she sorted through the pile and turned the shirts right-side out, something caught her eye. A faint smear of red on the collar of Andy's white dress shirt.
Her hands paused. She stared at it. A lipstick stain.
Red.
She hadn't worn red yesterday. She'd used her soft pink gloss.
Frowning, Anna lifted the shirt to her nose and sniffed. The scent that hit her wasn't hers—it was sweeter, heavier, seductive.
Victoria's Secret.
She dropped the shirt like it was on fire.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "That's not mine."
The air seemed to thin around her. Her chest tightened like a knot being pulled too hard. Andy had been with someone else. There was no other explanation. Lipstick and perfume didn't just magically appear.
She sat still for a long second. Then, with sudden force, she yanked the shirt from the basket and flung it across the room.
He would have to answer for this. Tonight.
---
Later that afternoon, Anna stopped by a boutique to pick out new gym clothes. It took a while—she wanted something that hugged in the right places and didn't make her look like she was trying too hard. After settling on a sleek navy set, she wandered over to the beauty aisle.
And that's when she saw her.
Penelope Kings. Loud, dramatic, and impossible to miss.
"I said I need my products stocked, now!" Penelope barked at a young salesgirl. "You people are absolutely useless!"
"I-I'm sorry, ma'am. We're out of stock," the sales rep stammered, her hands visibly trembling even though the store's AC was on full blast.
Penelope rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they stayed in her head. "Are you all idiots or just pretending?"
Anna blinked, watching the scene unfold.
Penelope hadn't changed a bit. Same attitude. Same voice that could curdle milk.
Anna wheeled her shopping cart to the checkout and waited.
The poor sales rep turned, clearly flustered, trying to attend to her.
"Can't you see she's helping me?" Penelope snapped, turning her wrath toward Anna. "Are you blind?"
Anna recoiled. "Excuse me?"
Penelope smirked, full of venom.
Anna's voice turned cold. "Are you sick in the head?"
The tension snapped like a wire. Both women squared up with sharp words flying.
Penelope knew exactly who Anna was—Andy's wife—but she played dumb, pretending she'd never seen her before.
Anna, though boiling inside, kept her cool. Barely.
After a few heated exchanges, Anna sighed and stepped back. "You know what? I don't have time for this nonsense. I've got better things to do."
She dumped her items on the counter. As the cashier scanned them, she noticed Penelope giving her a side-eye full of disdain and something else... jealousy.
Anna could feel it. That look wasn't just anger—it was envy. And that confirmed what her gut had suspected all day.
But she had no proof. Not yet. So she walked out, head held high.
Behind her, Penelope sneered quietly, watching her leave.
"Watch me take him back, Anna," she muttered. "Just watch."
---
The gym was modern, clean, and smelled faintly of fresh rubber and citrus. Soft music played in the background. Anna looked around, wide-eyed, trying to figure out what machine was for what.
She ran her fingers along a cold metal frame, wondering how it worked.
"You must be Anna," a deep, friendly voice said behind her.
She turned quickly, her ponytail swinging. A tall man with bright eyes and a confident smile held out his hand.
"I'm Chamberlain. I'll be your coach today."
"Nice to meet you," she said, shaking his hand.
Chamberlain was patient and upbeat. Within minutes, Anna had a feel for the treadmill, the weights, and the strange-looking contraptions she'd always avoided.
"You're doing great," he said with a grin as she jogged. "Like a pro already."
Anna smiled back, even though she was gasping for air. "Thanks," she panted.
An hour later, drenched in sweat and breathless, Anna searched for a spot to sit. She fished out her water bottle, tilted her head back, and drank deeply. Her throat was on fire.
Then—bam.
She turned and walked straight into someone's chest. Hard. Solid. Warm.
Her bottle slipped from her fingers and rolled across the floor. As she bent down to grab it, the stranger bent down too—and their foreheads collided.
"Ow! What the hell?" she snapped, looking up.
And froze.
"You?!"
Pete.
Standing there, shirt soaked, abs on display, and an irritating smirk on his face.
"I should be asking you that," he said, crossing his arms.
"You again? Are you stalking me?" Anna demanded, pointing a finger at him like he was guilty of something criminal.
Pete chuckled. "Me? Stalking you? You're the one crashing into me."
"Why are you even here?" she hissed.
He shrugged. "Because this is my place. My gym. So tell me—are you following me now? One of those clingy types who can't stay away?"
Anna's cheeks burned. "Don't flatter yourself."
"You don't look better today " Pete said, leaning in slightly.
Anna's eyes flashed. "Back off. I'm married," she said sharply, flashing her ring.
Pete smirked. "An unhappy one."
She shoved him. "You don't know a damn thing."
And she hated that he was right.
This is why you don't get drunk and vent to strangers.
"God, I hate you," she snapped, snatching her bag and storming off.
Pete only smiled as he watched her go, still standing in the same spot—annoyingly calm, annoyingly amused.