My Husband's Mistress Wore Red to Grandma's Funeral

2: 2

"I treat her like one of the guys. If there were really anything between us, I wouldn't have married you."

He tossed the answer off carelessly, certain I wouldn't dare make a scene.

Then he patted my shoulder and said with a slow smile, "Zara, Grandma's down there with an oxygen tank, waiting for us to finish the wedding. You wouldn't want to disappoint her, would you?"

I said nothing and quietly swallowed the hurt.

Three years ago, Solomon Sanchez saved my grandmother's life during a business kidnapping, and because of that she chose him herself to be her granddaughter's husband.

But this young man, so well-mannered in front of his elders, the model husband everyone else admired, had a phone full of nothing but intimate photos of his so-called "one of the guys."

He'd rushed out this morning and left his phone charging on the nightstand.

I scrolled through album after album, the same woman's face crowding every frame, and my heart clenched with a sharp ache.

More than two thousand photos, the whole record of a girl named Blanche Pruitt growing from a fresh-faced teenager into a woman about to become a mother.

The newest set had been taken the day before yesterday.

He'd gone with Blanche to a baby store, the two of them sharing one ice cream, their faces bright with happiness.

It was the first time I'd ever seen him smile like that, like he meant it. And it was with another woman.

I hadn't even had time to grieve my own marriage before the hospital sent word: Grandma was critical.

I hurried over, and on the way Solomon called.

"You've got that emerald necklace, right? You never wear it anyway. Just give it to Blanchie."

"We went to the temple today to draw fortunes, and the master said her luck's been bad lately. She needs something valuable to wear to ward off evil."

The words caught in my throat. I paused for a long moment, steadied myself, and told him no.

"That was my grandmother's heirloom. There's no way I'm giving it to Blanche Pruitt!"

The line went dead silent for an instant.

Then a woman's airy voice came through.

"Every man on earth, once he's married, ends up with some petty wife nagging in his ear. It's just a cheap little necklace. Like I'd even want it."

"Sol, you don't have to come out with the group anymore. Francis and the others will look after me. Don't trouble yourself. Just stay home with your precious little wife."

Solomon kept coaxing her, gently, "Don't be upset. I've always said it, my friends are like family, women come and go. In my heart, you all still matter more."

Blanche kept whining like a child throwing a tantrum, repeating over and over.

"Not listening, not listening, blah blah blah."

The noise made my head throb. My voice shook as I asked, "If there's nothing else, I'm going to hang up—"

Before I could finish, Solomon slammed the phone down on his end.

A shrill burst of static drove straight through my eardrum. I pulled the earbud out and found blood inside my ear.

I forced myself through the discomfort and got to the hospital.

The doctor told me, weighing every word, "In the few days she has left, whatever you do, don't upset her again."

I nodded, stayed with Grandma the whole afternoon, then picked up some topical ointment and went home.

It was the middle of the night by the time I got there.

The warm lamp in the living room was still on, which surprised me.

Solomon didn't like waiting on anyone, and he wasn't one to stay up late.

Tonight, for once, he'd made an exception for me.

Seeing how worn out I looked, he frowned and said sourly, "Home this late. Guess you've got quite a temper on you!"

"All I did was take Blanchie some breakfast, and you get so jealous you can't let it go. Won't even part with one necklace. So small-minded."

"She's a young girl, pregnant and not even married, that's pitiable enough. After all these years of friendship, there's no way I'd just leave her to it!"

My eyes burned like fire had scorched them, and the tears I'd held back so long finally fell.

"Grandma's in a very bad way. I don't want to argue with you anymore. If you think we're wrong for each other, that there's no future in this, then fine, I agree to the divorce!"