My Husband Married His Mistress After Twenty-Five Years

In the evening, the dinner table was covered with a variety of pasta dishes, each more appealing than the last. Cohen Snyder looked at the spread, his expression turning sour. "Why is everything pasta?"

His son, Madden, echoed his frustration, "Mom, what's going on? Dad and I can't eat certain types of pasta because we're allergic. Why did you make this?"

Lea Wagner leisurely speared a large piece of ravioli with her fork, her tone casual as she replied, "Your dad said he's been in the mood for pasta lately." She placed the ravioli into Cohen's bowl with a smile. "Enjoy."

Cohen stared at the ravioli, his face growing paler, yet feeling pressured to eat. As he reluctantly lifted the ravioli to his mouth, a strong wave of nausea swept over him. He quickly covered his mouth and bolted for the bathroom.

Unbothered, Lea picked up a slice of spiced honey cake, savoring it gracefully, indifferent to her husband’s discomfort. Cohen not only was allergic to some pasta, but he also detested it. Lea, a pasta lover, had abstained for years out of consideration for him.

"Mom, could you make us something else? I'm really hungry," Madden complained, setting down his fork in frustration. "You always make strange things without thinking about whether Dad and I can even eat it!"

"Why can't you be more like Aunt Eva and put in some effort? You’re so useless at everything you do," he grumbled.

Lea set down her fork, casting a sidelong glance at her son. "You like her?"

"Obviously, who'd like you?" Madden retorted, rolling his eyes. "She's pretty and nice, unlike you, always looking disheveled and incapable, just relying on Dad."

A chill ran through Lea's heart. All those years she had devoted to caring for them, and this was what she got in return.

"Madden, watch how you speak to your mother. Apologize now," Cohen's voice was soft, lacking any real reprimand. "He's just a kid, doesn't understand, don’t take it to heart," he added.

Lea watched the father and son duo, her eyes cold, waiting for their little performance to end. Madden pursed his lips, mumbling a reluctant, "Sorry."

"Don't blame Mom," Cohen's voice was gentle, trying to smooth things over.

"I wish Aunt Eva could be my mom," Madden whispered under his breath.

Lea looked at him with a faint smirk. "Well, she already kind of is your mom."

"Lea! What are you talking about?" Cohen's face turned livid. "Don't make accusations against Eva!"

Lea looked at him, suddenly finding the situation amusing. "Accusations?"

She pulled a marriage certificate from between the couch cushions that she’d found earlier that morning, spreading it on the table for him to see. "See for yourself if this counts as an accusation."

Cohen stared at it, his face going pale. There, on the certificate, was a picture of him and Eva Martin, dated ten years ago, the same year he and Lea had renewed their vows.

Lea's laughter was hollow. "Cohen Snyder, you’re something else. Whispering sweet nothings to me while marrying my bridesmaid. Aren’t you afraid of karma?"

She recalled their vow renewal a decade ago when Eva had stood as her bridesmaid. Dressed in an elegant Victorian-style gown, her makeup meticulously done, Eva had been as stunning as a rose. After the ceremony, a friend had subtly mentioned that Eva's gaze at Cohen was far too intimate. Lea had laughed it off, insisting there couldn’t be anything between them since Eva was just Cohen’s former assistant. Looking back now, it seemed like a bitter joke on her.

She, the fool, had been deceived for so many years.