I wasn’t a mistress, but no one believed me. In their seven years together, I had spent three years living in a villa on the outskirts of Altheris. Even though we did everything a married couple would, how many people besides Michael’s group of friends even knew I existed?
The one kept in the dark, hidden from the world, had always been me.
My silent trembling seemed to be noticed by her and she asked, "Will you come to pick it up, or should I mail it to you?"
I forced myself to stay calm and replied, "Trash like that? Just throw it away. I don’t need it."
I meant not just the outfit, but Michael as well.
She remained calm and composed, refusing to send another word my way.
Like a desperate voyeur in the dark, I couldn’t resist opening her social media feed, searching for traces of their love story.
But her feed was spotless—just pictures of travels around the world and a single photo of her pulling a suitcase with one hand.
That hand had roamed over me countless times.
It had held mine, time and again, as we watched the stars and talked about the moon.
He had even slipped a ring onto my finger, a symbol of loyalty and honesty.
Three years together, how could I not know it was Michael?
The caption beneath the photo was simple. [With one sentence, I'm back, no matter how late it is, someone will pick me up.]
Like an obsessed fool, I couldn’t stop staring at her post, even checking the time she shared it.
Three weeks ago, at 2 a.m.?
That day, I was wearing the black stockings personally chosen by Michael. After one glass of wine after another, I was pushed onto the floor covered in candles by him.
He kept teasing me, igniting thunder and lightning that made me go crazy.
But just as he was about to tear off the black stockings, his phone rang. He instinctively tried to turn it off, but upon seeing the message, he quickly pulled away from me.
The desire in his dark eyes instantly disappeared. He didn’t even throw me something to cover myself with and after grabbing his coat, he rushed out.
“I have an urgent matter. I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”
The door slammed shut and my desires were crushed in the gap of the door, while he didn’t return for an entire week.
Every day, a report message showed his hectic schedule, as if he was so busy that he couldn't even find time to rest.