My Husband, My Best Friend, and Their Dirty Little Secret

That sounds about right. At the very least, I can be certain of one thing, In all the years of our marriage, Frans has never defended me the way he now defends Zaney.

“She didn’t grow up with the kind of privilege you had,” he said.

“She got to where she is now through her own hard work.”

“Even if you’re upset with her, you shouldn’t jump to conclusions without letting her explain.”

“She just wanted to surprise you today. That’s all.”

A sudden pang clenched in my chest, but his voice didn’t stop—low, controlled, disappointed.

“Sheryl, there’s no longer any possibility of anything happening between me and her. Why can’t you just let Zaney go?”

Let go? But when did either of them ever let me go? My silence was deliberate. I had no interest in discussing it further. He didn’t press. Just gripped the steering wheel harder and drove in silence, foot heavy on the gas.

The twenty-minute ride home took only ten. When I stepped out of the car, Zaney was already waiting at the door.

She raised her hands in mock surrender and stuck out her tongue playfully. “I’ll grab my stuff and head out now.”

Her job overseas had been arranged through Frans. Naturally, she would still have professional ties with him after returning. I had long prepared myself for this. What I hadn’t expected… was that he would ask her to stay. From the way his jaw tightened, from that firm side profile I’d grown so familiar with, I could see—he was still angry.

As if silently reminding me. This is his home. And his word was final. And I—I could only choose to accept it. His gaze swept toward me and I could feel what he was waiting for. A soft word. A show of submission. A plea for peace.

Maybe then he’d “graciously” ask Zaney to leave. But I didn’t give him that. I simply walked past them and stepped inside. Zaney was put in the guest room at the far end of the hallway. Before bed, she called out a cheerful “Goodnight,” and apologized again with gentle eyes and a soft voice.

I said nothing. Just closed my door, turned off the lights and lay in the dark. But sleep wouldn’t come. So when the man beside me quietly lifted the covers and slipped out of bed in the middle of the night, I was already awake.

I kept my eyes shut, pretending not to notice. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I held them in. The hallway light clicked on. I heard the creak of a door—the door to the playroom. A room almost never opened.

“Frans,” Zaney’s voice came, light and full of wonder,

“This is incredible. You actually recreated the exact scene I described back then.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Frans replied. “I was worried it might feel outdated.”

“No way,” she said, her voice trembling, “I’m honestly… so touched.”

I pressed my back against the cold wall, suddenly unsteady. That room—he had designed it himself during renovations. Painstakingly obsessed over every detail. Even I had found it strange. He had no interest in any other part of the house, letting me choose everything. But that room? I wasn’t even allowed to peek inside until it was finished.

Now I knew why. It wasn’t for me. It was for a dream of Zaney’s. Maybe, just maybe, he’d always imagined living here with her instead. And if I hadn’t been in the way, he might’ve gotten his wish. I stumbled back to bed, dazed and hollow. That night, Frans never returned to the bedroom. And with each passing hour, what little love I still had for him quietly faded.

***

By morning, I got up and booked a hotel online. Threw a few clothes into a suitcase. Then left. When I passed the game room, its door was still wide open. I didn’t look in. I just walked straight out.

By the time Frans realized I was gone, I was already sitting in a plush armchair inside a hotel’s presidential suite, leisurely enjoying the elaborate breakfast brought up by room service.

My phone kept buzzing on the table. Five calls in total. I waited. Then silence. I knew he wouldn’t call again. Frans’s patience had always been limited when it came to me.

Besides, the Raymond Family was declining fast. We needed the Charles Family’s influence to stay afloat. He assumed this was just one of my temporary outbursts. He believed I would never dare to truly leave him.

***