After My Husband Chose the Neighbor Over Me

The laundry room was in the basement of the community center. Concrete floors. Fluorescent lights. The smell of detergent and damp fabric.

I was folding towels when the door opened behind me.

I didn't need to turn around. I knew her footsteps by now. Light. Deliberate.

"Oh, Kennedy!" Mavis's voice was bright, surprised. Like she hadn't followed me down here on purpose. "I didn't know anyone else was here."

I kept folding. "Hi, Mavis."

She walked to the machine next to mine. Set down her basket. Started loading clothes. White lace bras. Silk blouses. Everything delicate and expensive.

"How are you?" she asked softly.

I didn't answer. I pulled a towel from the dryer. Folded it in half. Then half again.

She hummed to herself. A light, cheerful sound. Then she spoke again, quieter this time. "Rylan's been so helpful lately. I don't know what I'd do without him."

My hands stilled. Just for a second.

She noticed. Of course she noticed.

"He fixed my sink yesterday," she continued. "Stayed for almost two hours. We had coffee after. He's such a good listener."

I set the towel in my basket. Reached for another one.

"He talks about you, you know."

I looked up.

Mavis was watching me. Her head tilted. Her eyes wide and innocent. But her mouth—her mouth wasn't smiling anymore.

"Says you used to be fun." Her voice dropped. Flat. Cold. Nothing breathy about it now. "I guess that was a long time ago."

I stood very still. My heart pounded. My hands gripped the towel.

She stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell her perfume. Light. Floral. The same scent that clung to Rylan's shirts.

"Don't worry, sweetie," she whispered. Her lips curved into something that wasn't a smile. It was sharper. Crueler. "I'll take good care of him."

I couldn't breathe. The basement felt smaller. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. I wanted to tell her exactly who I was and what I could do to her.

But I didn't.

Because if I reacted—if I showed her she'd gotten to me—she would run straight to Rylan. She would cry. She would say I threatened her. And he would believe her.

He always believed her.

So I folded the towel. Slowly. Carefully. My hands shook, but I didn't stop.

Mavis watched me for a long moment. Then she laughed softly. Picked up her basket. Walked to the door.

She paused in the doorway. Looked back.

"See you around, Kennedy."

The door closed.

I stood there. Alone. Holding a towel I'd folded three times without noticing.

Then I sat down on the concrete floor. I pressed my palms against my eyes.

I didn't cry. I just sat there. Breathing. Waiting for my hands to stop shaking.

---

That night, I couldn't sleep.

Rylan was next to me, snoring softly. His arm was thrown across the pillow. His face was peaceful.

I stared at the ceiling. Mavis's voice echoed in my head. *I'll take good care of him.*

I got up. Walked to the living room. Opened my laptop.

I typed: *Divorce lawyer Seattle.*

The search results loaded. I clicked the first link. Then the second. Then the third.

I read about contested divorces. Asset division. Alimony. Custody—though we didn't have children, thank God.

I read about what I would need. Proof of income. Bank statements. Employment history.

I had none of those things.

No job. No paycheck. No assets in my name. Everything was Rylan's. The house. The car. The bank accounts.

On paper, I was nobody.

I closed the laptop. Pressed my hands against my face.

If I revealed who I really was—if I told anyone I was Kennedy Price, heiress to the Price empire—it would destroy the entire life I'd built here. The fiction would collapse. Rylan would know I'd been lying to him for eight years.

And he would use it against me. I knew he would.

I opened the laptop again. Started taking notes. Quietly. Carefully. Names of lawyers. Phone numbers. Questions to ask.

I saved the document. Titled it *Budget Planning*. Something boring. Something Rylan would never open.

Then I walked to the bedroom. Knelt by the closet. Pulled up the loose floorboard.

My journal was there. Wrapped in the old scarf. I unwrapped it. Tucked the printed notes inside. Wrapped it again.

I put it back. Replaced the floorboard.

Rylan stirred in bed. "Kennedy?"

I froze.

"Yeah?"

"Come back to bed."

I stood up. Walked back to the bed. Slid under the covers.

He rolled over. His arm draped across my waist.

"Love you," he mumbled, already half-asleep.

I stared at the ceiling.

I didn't say it back.