Rachel's POV
I sat at our favorite restaurant, fidgeting with my napkin. Today was special—our third anniversary. I couldn't wait to see Andrew walk through that door.
Although I was dying with anxiety deep down, I still managed to put on a smile, ignoring the piety looks I was getting from the waiters.
He was going to show up, hopefully.
I loved him more with each passing day, but lately, things have changed. His promotion at work had taken over his life. He was always busy, always tired. We barely had time for each other.
He gets upset at the slightest things, so I choose most times not to get into an argument with him letting things go even though it was his fault.
My heart ached, remembering the way it used to be. We'd laugh together, go on spontaneous dates, and cuddle on the couch.
The way he'd tell me how much he loves and adores me. How much I meant to him.
Now, I was lucky if I got a quick kiss goodbye.
Which I haven't gotten for a month or now.
He doesn't even come home sometimes.
I tried to understand. I did. His job was important, and he was providing for us. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was losing him, and it was breaking my heart.
I glanced at my watch for the tenth time. No signs of Andrew.
I've been here for almost two hours waiting.
I placed a hand on my barely noticeable bump, and a smile crept on my cheek.
I am two weeks pregnant; I found out yesterday after undergoing a test, so I decided to save the news for today.
Andrew has always wanted a child, and being able to give him one now made my heart swell.
I wonder how he'd take the news.
I took a deep breath and let my eyes wander around the restaurant. Couples held hands, smiling at each other. Families laughed and chatted. I felt a pang of loneliness.
Where was Andrew?
I pulled out my phone and sent him a text: "Hey, running late?"
No response.
I sighed, trying to push away the doubts creeping into my mind. Tonight was supposed to be special. I had planned everything—his favorite food, wine, and most importantly, the pregnancy.
I looked up, hoping to see Andrew walking toward me. But the door swung open, and strangers walked in instead.
My heart sank.
Where was my husband?
I called his line, but it kept sending me to voice mail. I called till eventually the phone was switched off.
"Uhm…Sorry, Mrs. Andreson, we're closing." One of the waiters announced, snapping me out of my train of thought.
Tears began to accumulate at the brim of my eyes as reality dawned on me.
Andrew wasn't going to come.
I bit on my bottom lip getting up. "I'm sorry, I was just leaving," I announced, assembling my stuff before rushing out.
Tears began to slip as I ran out hailing a taxi to get home.
How would Andrew do this to me? To us?
It was our anniversary for crying out loud; what was the matter with him?
Was his work more important than mine? Than us?
I got home shortly.
I walked through the front door, exhaustion and disappointment weighing me down. The evening that was supposed to be special had turned into another letdown.
As I entered the living room, I noticed something off. There were clothes scattered everywhere—lace, silk, and perfume. Feminine clothes that weren't mine.
What was going on?
My heart sank.
I felt a chill run down my spine. Something was wrong.
Definitely wrong!
I just hope it wasn't what I was thinking.
God no!
It can't be.
Andrew will never do that to me or us.
I heard muffled sounds coming from upstairs. My heart rate escalated as I climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last.
I approached our matrimonial room, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios.
The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open.
And my world shattered.
Andrew, my husband, lay in bed with another woman. Not just any woman—my best friend, Victoria.
"Fuck, baby! You're taking me so good," Andrew moans, thrusting hard into Victoria as he spreads her legs wide open.
"Ungh…Right there, Andrew, faster... Fuck me hard," Victoria moans, pulling him for a kiss.
Andrew's eyes were closed, a look of pleasure on his face kissing her with so much adoration, one which he hadn't been giving me.
I can't even remember the last time we had sex with Andrew; he always came home late and left early, and most times he didn't even sleep at home.
Could Victoria be the reason?
Was Victoria the person standing in between our marriage?
A new set of tears began to stream down as I clutched on my bump.
How could Andrew do this to us?
We were more than this; how could he be so cruel?
Victoria's eyes met mine, a sly smile spreading across her face.
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. My breath caught in my throat.
No, no, no. This can't be happening.
I stood frozen, my heart breaking into a million pieces.
Andrew's eyes snapped open, locking onto mine. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
"Rachel..." he stammered, guilt written all over his face for a second before it replaced with an emotion I couldn't mistake for satisfaction.
Almost like he wanted me to withhold him fucking my best friend on our matrimonial bed.
My feet got heavy, barely able to carry me as I took steps back, but Andrew didn't care to pull out of Victoria and run to me.
He was focused on pleasing Victoria and getting his release.
Right there, I knew I had lost him forever.
All those years have gone down the drain like they never happened.
I turned and ran.