His Secret Mistress Lived Under My Roof

A dozen sets of matching couple's pajamas hung in the closet, and then my single set in plain black.

Matching couple's bowls in the kitchen, and then my one bowl sitting by itself.

There were even a dozen sets of matching his-and-hers underwear in the dresser.

Vincent's explanation for all of it was always the same：

“Eudora got a bundle deal. We're just buddies. Don't overthink it.”

And he'd always tack on one more line：

“If it weren't for your condition, I wouldn't even want her living under the same roof.”

For three years, the three of us shared this house. Every time Vincent and Eudora were in the same room, they acted like they could barely stand each other.

“Come on, everyone, why are you still standing? Sit down, sit down!”

Eudora rose with a smile, walked straight to the head of the table, and began playing hostess.

Just like that.

Every seat around the table filled up. Every single one. None of them for me.

Vincent sat down beside Eudora as if it were the most natural thing in the world, then looked up and met my eyes.

His gaze landed on my expressionless face, and for a split second, something flickered across his. Like he'd only just realized.

He pointed to the space next to him, his tone offhand：

“Aren't you on a diet lately? Just eat standing up over here.”

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to me. Some curious, some amused, some just there for the show.

I met Vincent's gaze, clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms, and spoke word by word：

“Vincent. Today is my birthday.”

The room went quiet.

A flash of panic crossed his face. He opened his mouth to say something.

But then.

Eudora's choked sob cut through the silence：

“Blackie, it's been three years since you left, and I still miss you so much.”

In an instant.

Vincent's expression shifted. He turned and scrambled to comfort the woman beside him.

As if I had ceased to exist entirely.

I didn't know how long I stood there. Long enough for snow to start drifting past the window. Long enough for every house on the street to light up. Long enough for Eudora to be smiling again.

Long enough for Vincent to walk over and start cutting the cake.

Finally.

Eudora took the first slice from his hands, stood, and walked toward me.

She smiled：

“Gay, happy birthday.”

I looked down at the slice in front of me. I didn't reach for it.

Just like that.

We stood in silence, facing each other, for nearly ten minutes.

Finally.

After Eudora let out a soft whimper about her arm getting tired, Vincent's brow creased and he spoke：

“Gay, that's enough. Don't push it.”

An accusation.

“Eat the cake.”

“Eudora already wished you happy birthday. She even gave you the first slice. What more do you want?”

“Can you just be reasonable for once?”

The cake Vincent had personally ordered. Eudora's favorite. Strawberry.

Strawberry cake. One bite and I'd go into severe allergic shock.

And he told me.

Eat the cake.

My heartbeat seemed to slow in that moment. When I lifted my eyes to Vincent again, whatever light had once been in them was gone.

I said nothing. I just turned to walk toward the study.

Behind me, a heavy thud.

Eudora dropped to one knee, clutching her left kneecap, her face twisted in pain.

“Vincent, my left knee, the one I bumped earlier, it's hurting again……”

She hadn't even finished her sentence before a brutal force seized me from behind.

By the time I registered what was happening, I'd been wrenched off my feet. Both knees slammed into the floor.

I was kneeling in front of Eudora.