After My Husband Kissed Gwendolyn at Work

The notification from the community package locker lit up my phone screen as I was finishing my morning coffee. Shane had mentioned ordering bulk household supplies last week—paper towels, laundry detergent, that sort of thing. With him still at work, I figured I'd save him the trip and pick it up myself.

"Perfect timing," I muttered, grabbing my keys. "I need the exercise anyway."

The walk to the locker was brisk, the autumn air carrying a hint of winter's approach. I punched in the code Shane had texted me, and the metal door swung open with a metallic groan.

"Let's see what we've got here," I said to myself, reaching for the large cardboard box inside.

It was heavier than I expected. I balanced it on my hip as I closed the locker, then headed toward a nearby bench to open it. My hands trembled slightly as I tore through the packing tape.

"I could use some new cleaning supplies," I thought, lifting the lid.

My breath caught in my throat.

Black lace. Red silk. Ribbons and bows in every color imaginable. The box was stuffed with the most exquisite lingerie I'd ever seen—and none of it was mine.

I lifted a piece, my fingers tracing the delicate fabric. The tag read "Size Small"—at least two sizes smaller than what I wore. Beneath it lay bottles of massage oil, couples' games, and a velvet box containing what looked like...

"Oh God," I whispered, dropping the item back into the box.

My hands shook as I reached for my phone, scrolling to Shane's number. I hit call before I could think better of it.

"Rose?" Shane answered on the third ring, his voice light. "What's up, babe?"

"What's in the box?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady despite the storm raging inside me.

"What box?" His tone shifted slightly—just enough for me to notice.

"The one from the package locker. The one you said contained household supplies."

A pause. Then: "Oh! That box! Yeah, about that—"

"Don't lie to me," I cut him off, surprising myself with my firmness. "I'm looking at lingerie, Shane. Expensive lingerie. In sizes that don't fit me."

"Rose, listen—" His voice took on that placating tone I'd grown to hate. "I think my credit card was compromised. Someone must have used it to order... whatever that is."

"Really?" I lifted another piece from the box. "Because there's a receipt with your name on it."

"That's... that's impossible," he stammered. "Maybe it's a prank? You know how my old fraternity brothers are. They're always pulling stupid jokes."

I closed my eyes, feeling something harden inside me. "Stop lying."

"I'm not lying!" His voice rose defensively. "Why would I order that stuff? What would I even do with it?"

The question hung in the air between us, heavy with implication.

"I'm coming to your office," I said finally, ending the call before he could respond.

---

Twenty minutes later, I stood in the lobby of Shane's office building, the box clutched in my arms like evidence at a crime scene. The receptionist gave me a curious look as I stormed past her desk.

"Rose?" she called after me. "Shane didn't mention you were coming by today."

"I'm sure he didn't," I replied, not breaking stride.

As I approached the hallway leading to Shane's department, I heard laughter—his laughter, followed by a feminine giggle that made my skin crawl.

I slowed my steps, ducking behind a decorative plant when I spotted them.

Shane stood with his back against the wall, his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up. Across from him was a stunning woman with auburn hair cascading over bare shoulders. She wore a fitted dress that hugged every curve—the kind of dress I used to wear before I'd given up my career for Shane.

"Shane," she purred, leaning in close. "You've been avoiding me all week."

"Nothing to avoid," Shane replied, his voice low and intimate. "I've just been busy."

"Liar," she teased, placing a manicured hand on his chest.

I froze as she leaned in closer, her eyes flicking toward where I stood hidden. Something in her gaze told me she knew I was there—and she wanted me to see this.

When their lips met in a passionate kiss, I didn't turn away. Instead, I pulled out my phone and hit record, capturing every moment of their betrayal in crystal clear video.

The woman—Gwendolyn, I presumed—wrapped her arms around Shane's neck, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened. Her eyes remained open, locked on mine over Shane's shoulder, a triumphant smile playing at the corners of her lips.

I kept recording, my hand steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. This wasn't just evidence—it was confirmation of everything I'd feared and more.