On the Anniversary, I Saw My Husband with His Mistress

On our wedding anniversary, I ran into my husband, Adam Walker, at a lingerie store. He was helping Laura Timber, who was already someone else's wife, pick out lingerie.

I tried to make a quick exit, but Laura grabbed my arm and waved a pair of couple’s underwear in front of me. "Hey, Jennifer Anderson, perfect timing. I used to buy Adam's underwear. He's bulked up quite a bit. Think this size will still fit him?"

I forced a gracious smile, picked up a skimpy piece of black lace, and tossed it at her face. "He likes this kind better."

Laura was stunned. Her pale face turned beet red, and she threw herself into Adam's arms, tears streaming down her face.

What an actress.

Shoppers around us stopped to watch. Adam frowned at me. I shrugged, acting innocent. "What? Don’t you like my pick? Why don’t you take my husband’s pants off and measure?"

I made sure to emphasize "my husband," raising my voice a bit. The onlookers’ stares shifted from curiosity to shock.

Laura pointed at me, sputtering, "You...you!" but couldn't get a sentence out. Adam shielded her, and I knew he’d always side with his precious Laura.

Before Adam could speak, I grabbed his arm and looked up at him pitifully. "Honey, play around all you want, but be safe. Who knows what diseases this woman has? Remember, your wife and kid are waiting at home. I made your favorite creamy oyster stew for tonight. Don’t forget to come home."

I pretended to wipe away tears and made a quick escape.

Late that night, I was curled up on the sofa eating chips when Adam, looking exhausted, sat down next to me and stared at me. I glanced at him. "What? Soothed your dear Laura? You look drained. She must’ve bled you dry, physically and financially. I can't do anything about your body, but our money is shared property. Don’t test me, or I’ll take it all..."

"Where’s the creamy oyster stew?" Adam interrupted, tugging at his tie.

"What?"

"You said you made creamy oyster stew for me tonight, darling?"

I shivered at the way he said "darling," looking at him like he was crazy.

Adam's eyes gleamed with meaning, his smile teasing as he leaned closer, hands braced on the sofa. "You're my wife, so let's do what married couples do."

I froze, unable to move.

Adam chuckled, straightened up, and sat back, his tone mocking. "You’re not falling for me again, are you?"

I did fall for him once.

On New Year’s Eve, transfer student Adam showed up in a white shirt, strumming a guitar and singing “Baby.” He stole my heart on the spot. From then on, everyone knew that the rich girl who used to skip classes and hang out with troublemakers had turned into a fangirl for Adam, the academic star from a humble background.

I threatened every girl who confessed to him or sent him love letters. Eventually, I was the only girl around Adam.

Adam always responded to my advances and possessiveness with a gentle smile, keeping a polite yet close distance. I figured he didn’t want to mess up his studies, so I never outright confessed my feelings, even though everyone knew how I felt about him.

To go to the same university as him, I gave up my family’s plan for me to study abroad. With love and money driving me, my grades soared, and it was no surprise that Adam and I ended up in the same class again.

On registration day, I walked out of my dorm with a homemade cake, excited to finally tell Adam how I felt. As soon as I got downstairs, I saw Adam lovingly brush Laura’s bangs aside, then cup her face and kiss her gently.

Laura was beautiful, with fair skin and long legs—a perfect match for the tall and handsome Adam. Watching them kiss felt like a thousand needles stabbing my heart.

The cake fell from my hands, shattering along with my feelings for Adam.

Laura smiled and extended her hand to me. “You must be Jennifer. Adam has mentioned you. I’m Laura, Adam’s girlfriend.”

When I didn’t respond, Laura hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Thanks for helping me deal with the other girls around Adam. But Adam will only ever love me. You have no chance.”

A year ago, any girl who talked to me like that would’ve ended up with her hair pulled. But today, my mind went blank, and I ran.

Back in my dorm, tears streamed down my face. Damn it, I wasn’t crying; it was that woman’s overpowering perfume.

In high school, I was a firecracker, but today, I was just a dud. How embarrassing.