My Husband Chose His Mistress

On our wedding anniversary, Princeton, who rarely cooked, prepared an entire feast.

He embraced me warmly, "Tiana, do you like it? I made your favorite pulled pork with a spicy kick."

He didn't know that I can no longer handle spicy food. Even before, I never really enjoyed it; I only pretended to for his sake.

I smiled, saying nothing.

He excitedly slipped a plane ticket into my hands. "Tomorrow afternoon, we're heading to the Alps. We'll have a few days to really enjoy ourselves."

His smile was gentle, his eyes filled with anticipation.

But just then, Zuri Morgan called.

The change in Princeton's expression was immediate. He quickly stood up to leave, and at that moment, I felt the undeniable influence Zuri held over him.

I grasped his wrist tightly, trying to make him stay.

A flicker of guilt passed through his eyes as he gently released my hand, saying, "I'll be back soon."

As I watched him hurry away, the smile vanished from my face.

It felt like a hand had seized my heart, tearing my soul apart.

Why is it that when faced with a choice between Zuri and me, you always choose her?

The roses on the table seemed to mock my pitiful efforts. In a surge of frustration, I swept everything off the table.

What was supposed to be a beautiful wedding anniversary was reduced to a scene of utter chaos...