You Lost Me the Moment I Begged

When Caroline saw me, she was the first to greet me.

“Jean, the driver had to take emergency leave. Thank you for picking us up.”

I glanced at the coat draped over her shoulders—my husband’s coat—and said flatly,

“If you think saying that makes you seem modest, I won’t argue.”

Her smile faltered.

Geoffrey slid into the back seat first.

“Take her home first. The address is 701, Building 3, Sunflower Garden.”

That number jolted something in my memory. I had found a movie ticket stub tucked in the pocket of his suit just last week—the same cinema, the same night.

Caroline climbed in after him, her voice soft. “Sorry for the trouble, Jean.”

I looked at them through the rearview mirror.

They weren’t touching—but they didn’t need to be. The silence between them felt too familiar. Too close.

By the time we got home, it was already late. I went straight to the shower, hoping the hot water would rinse off the chill I couldn’t shake.

While I was getting dressed, the bathroom door creaked open.

Geoffrey stepped in through the steam and wrapped his arms around me from behind.

“Did you miss me?”

A diamond pendant hung between my collarbones—one I hadn’t noticed before.

“I saw it at an auction,” he murmured. “Thought it’d look perfect on you. Do you like it?”

His lips brushed my neck.

But I could smell her on him. Sweet. Lingering.

I pushed him away, heart pounding.

Then, in the mirror, I noticed the pendant’s shape—and it hit me.

I’d seen it before in Caroline’s IG post.

“Although it’s expensive, I don’t like it. Please refuse~”

The caption had been playful. Dismissive.

So, this was what I got now—hand-me-downs from his intern.

I grabbed my phone, opened her IG, and held it up to him.

“Explain this to me. Right now.”

He paused, then gave a short, cold laugh.

“She’s just a kid playing around. Why are you taking it so seriously? She’s an intern.”

Even after everything, he was still defending her.

Anger surged in me. I shoved him away again.

His expression turned hard. “Still acting like a victim? Jean, I thought staying at home for years would’ve made you wiser. Turns out you’ve only gotten dumber.”

Then he grabbed me, lifted me onto the sink counter, and forced himself between my legs.

“Do I need to remind you how a wife is supposed to behave?”

That night, there was no tenderness—only rage and punishment.