Husband's Secret Lover

I stood in our bedroom, clutching the pregnancy test I'd taken from Kamila's bathroom trash. Two pink lines stared back at me, unmistakable even through the tear in the plastic wrapper where I'd pried it open.

"Logan," I called, my voice steadier than I expected. "We need to talk."

He appeared in the doorway, phone in hand, eyes narrowing when he saw what I was holding.

"Where did you get that?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

"Does it matter?" I held up the test. "Twelve weeks, Logan. She's twelve weeks pregnant."

He didn't deny it. Didn't even try.

"What I want to know," I continued, "is why you let her show me a negative test three days ago."

Logan's jaw tightened. "You've been spying on us?"

"Us?" The word hit me like a slap. "There is no 'us,' Logan. You made that very clear."

"Serena, you're making a scene over nothing." He stepped closer, his expression shifting to that patronizing look I'd grown to hate. "This doesn't change anything between us."

"Doesn't change anything?" My voice rose despite my efforts to stay calm. "She's carrying your child!"

"And I've known about it for months," he said, as if discussing the weather. "Kamila and I have been together since before we got married."

The room tilted sideways. "Before we got married?"

"Jesus, Serena." He ran a hand through his hair. "Why are you so surprised? You've been paranoid for years. Making up stories about where I've been, who I've been with."

"I wasn't paranoid," I whispered. "I was right."

Logan's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then back at me. "I'm leaving. Kamila needs me."

"Leaving?" I echoed.

"For a few days." He grabbed a duffel bag from the closet and began throwing clothes into it. "I need space to think."

---

Three hours later, my phone pinged with a text.

*Staying at Kamila's place for a while. Don't wait up.*

I stared at the message, rage building in my chest like a physical presence. Before I could respond, another text arrived.

*Kamila's moving some things into the guest room. Make sure you don't touch anything.*

The guest room? In our house?

I rushed downstairs, my heart pounding. The front door was unlocked—Logan must have left it that way deliberately.

I pushed it open to find Kamila arranging flowers in the foyer. My flowers. The ones I'd bought yesterday.

"Oh!" She turned, hand flying to her stomach in that protective gesture I'd begun to recognize. "Serena. I didn't expect you to be here."

"This is my house," I said through gritted teeth.

"For now." She smiled, running her hand along the banister. "Logan thought it would be easier if I stayed here while he's...away. You know, for the baby's sake."

I watched her move through my home like she owned it—touching my things, rearranging my decor, claiming my space.

"Where are you sleeping?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.

"Our bedroom." She said it so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Logan moved your things to the guest room. I hope that's okay?"

---

That night, I lay in the guest bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed with a Facebook notification. Rachel Martinez had tagged me in a post.

*Having dinner with Logan and Kamila tonight. So glad they're finally free to be together!*

Free? I scrolled through the comments.

*Logan deserves happiness after dealing with Serena's issues for so long.*

*Poor guy, stuck with such a control freak.*

*Kamila's been his true love all along.*

My hands shook as I scrolled further. Post after post, comment after comment—all from Logan's friends. All painting me as the villain in this story.

*Serena's been unstable for years.*

*Remember when she accused him of cheating at Marcus's wedding? Paranoid much?*

*Logan's been so patient with her mental health issues.*

Mental health issues? I'd never had any mental health issues.

The phone slipped from my fingers as the realization hit me. This wasn't just about an affair. This was a campaign—a systematic effort to isolate me, discredit me, paint me as the problem.

And it had worked. Everyone believed Logan's lies.

Including, for a while, me.