I received a pornographic video.
"Do you like this?"
The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts.
"Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response.
"You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!"
The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed.
I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella.
I let the video play, watching and listening to the two of them having sex, my disgust being provoked time and time again. Every time I hear their moans, my heart feels like it's being stabbed.
The cheating continues. After a few more slaps, he grabs her buttocks, thrusts his penis deep into her vagina, and starts pounding vigorously.
After a few more thrusts, Mark and Bella moan together as they climax. They collapse on the bed, kissing and caressing each other's faces.
"Do you treat my sister like this in bed too?" Bella's coquettish voice rings out,
"Don't mention her," Mark's ruthless voice echoes, "I haven't even kissed her, she can't compare to you at all."
"I knew you only loved me!" Bella smiles satisfied, hooking Mark's neck, leans in to kiss him, and says, "I want to do it again!"
Seeing them rolling together again, I feel a wave of nausea and can't watch anymore. I angrily press the pause button, swallowing hard.
I am very clear, this video must have been sent by Bella. She wants to tell me that she still holds Mark in her grip, and I am powerless against it. Apart from a certificate and title, Mark and I don't resemble a married couple at all. Bella indeed knows how to twist the knife further.
Three years ago, on that fateful day I never imagined was going to begin the worst turning point of my life, all was made ready to celebrate the union of Bella and Mark. It was only mere minutes to the wedding when Bella disappeared (or at least found out she was gone. Bella was nowhere to be found.
My parents, who were desperate to salvage the embarrassment and save face in front of the guests or whatever it was they were trying to protect that day, turned to me. They told me to put on my sister's wedding dress, to take Bella's place at the altar.
There was no room for argument, neither was I given the choice to say no. I was to be the figurehead, the stand-in bride who'd fulfill the ceremony in Bella's absence. There were no words of blessing and no well-wishes for a happy future. Instead, all I received were instructions to “be a good wife.”
This was how it all started.
I was left numb, standing there in the borrowed wedding dress to exchange vows with a man I barely knew. It felt as though my dreams and aspirations were suddenly overshadowed by the harsh reality of my circumstances. Like my life had been snatched away from me in an instant, and I barely recalled what happiness felt like after that day. I was constrained in every sense of the word.
Did I say this was how it all started?
No, I think it actually dated way back to when I was three and had unfortunately gone missing. For eighteen long years, I lived away from my home and family. Growing older. As I grew older, from being a child, to a teenager and then a young adult, I kept searching for my roots again. And when my long-awaited dream of reuniting with my family became reality, it was nothing like I'd expected.
There was no joyous reunion, no tears of happiness.
Instead, I was met with something close to indifference.
As if I were a stranger who had wandered into their lives. My parents seemed to have moved on from me after all those years I was gone. All the love they had was for Bella; barely any left for me.
I guess there was nothing left, in fact, because if there was, I would at least be pitied enough to have been told that Bella had returned from abroad and had somehow found her way into my husband's arms.
Almost immediately, my phone buzzed with an incoming video call from Bella. I didn't want to answer it at first, but ended up swiping green. Bella's face popped up on the screen, sitting in the same room from the video with a towel wrapped around her body.
"Hi, hope you're having a happy day over there," Bella chirped with a smug smile.
She moved the phone's camera around to show more of the room, and in the background, I caught a faint glimpse of Mark walking into the bathroom.
"Guess who's going to die a pathetic old virgin? Not me!" She laughed callously.
I silently clenched my teeth. I was reeling with annoyance from the insult.
"He doesn't deserve you," she added "He deserves better. And I'm what's perfect for him, darling."
There was no way I was going to listen to any more of that. I angrily ended the call and flung the phone to the bed, then burying my head in my hands.
I'd had enough. I wasn't going to sit still and let myself he dragged to the ground like a piece of rag any longer.
By the time Mark would return to the house, it was already well into the night. I sat on the cold tiles of the living room, hanging my chin on my palm and nearly dozing off when I heard the sound of the front door clicking. That familiar musky scent of his followed him in as well, and I could swear I could smell Bella on him too.
My eyes blinked open, and I raised my head, locking a blank gaze with his face. There was that brick-hard look on his face which he always had when I was around. To think of how he was grinning from ear-to-ear earlier with Bella.
After our marriage, everything I'd been told by my parents to do, I did. Both taking care of his food, his daily life, and several other things that couldn't be counted, all for three years. It started happening frequently, that it became a ritual, like a dance of habit ingrained in my daily routine. Mark also accepted it without question. But not for one day did Mark spare me as much as a second glance.
Mark shut the door behind him and began walking into his room. Treating me as usual like I was invisible, and for the first time, I spoke.
"I want a divorce."
He turned to face me, an incredulous look on his face.
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't want this title of wife anymore,” I answered without mincing words.
That day three years ago, when I stood in that white dress, and him in his tuxedo, a congregation behind us and a preacher in front of us and saw that calm look of restrained anger in his eyes when he saw that it was not Bella behind the veil, but me.
I remember my chest tightening behind the diamond necklace I was wearing. The way his stare burned. How stupid and helpless I felt in that dress. How my parents smiled like they'd not just pushed me out there against my will and the congregation cheered with probably no idea of what was going on.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the pastor announced.
Mark leaned closer towards me, but not for a kiss, he merely brushed his face past my cheek and spoke into my ear, “The only thing you can get is the title of wife."
And that title is what I was giving back to him. I didn't want it anymore. I wished I'd never let myself take it in the first place. I'd let go of too much of myself and endured more than I needed to. It was the height of it already.
“I want to get a divorce, Mark,” I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time—even though I knew he'd heard me clearly.
He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!"
How typical of him to believe that I was trying to get his attention. I hadn't attracted that so-called attention of his for over three years and it when I mention a divorce he remembers it.
The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him.
"I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster.
He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. Don't even ask why I had it on in the first place.
I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house. The wind outside felt different afterward, like a heavy burden was being lifted off my shoulders for the first time in a very long while. The feeling of the night breeze blowing through the strands of my hair was immaculate.
Grabbing my phone from my purse and swiping my fingers quickly across the screen, I put the phone to my ear, hearing it ring.
"I am divorcing, come pick me up.”
The soft wind of the night continued to whip my hair to and fro while I stood outside with my suitcase next to me. I was already out of that house, finally. Not quite far ahead into the streets, I noticed the headlights flashing brightly in my direction, and a faint smile quirked up my lips because I recognized who it was in an instant.The flamboyant red sports car pulled over right in front of where I stood, and an even more flamboyant woman was in the driver's seat twiddling her fingers at me as she wound down the windows.It was Grace.Grace was not only my best friend, she was also my business partner. We've been inseparable since our college days. And because we both shared a passion for fashion, we both decided to turn our dreams into reality by co-founding Luxe Vogue, a fashion-forward online shopping website that quickly became a favorite among young trendsetters.Grace had a keen eye for design, so she was in charge of designing stunning clothing collections, while I focused
MARK POVI pulled into the driveway, exhausted. Another long day of both work and fun had left me drained, and all I wanted was to unwind and relax. I stepped out of the car and loosened my tie, eager to get inside and finally relax. When I entered the house, I saw Sydney sitting there, staring at me with her usual blank look. I barely spared her a glance while heading straight for my study."I want a divorce," Sydney said before I could even reach the sanctuary of my study.Divorce? Ridiculous was the first word that came to my mind, and ridiculous it was indeed. The family business of Sydney's parents had been lent to the GT Group, which I owned. This was a contract that benefited both parties in every sense of the word. Sydney was only a woman I'd married, who depended on her parents and me for survival.Divorce, huh? It was obviously her new way of crying for attention, like she was fond of doing. It used to be the pitiful demeanor she carried around her, which was enough to convi
SYDNEY'S POVAs soon as I returned to the airport, I could already see Grace waving eagerly at me from the other side. Enthusiastic smiles and grins curled up my lips the closer I got to her. My short trip had come to an end, and might I say that those were the happiest three months of my life in a very long time.I wheeled my suitcase faster behind me and rushed, also waving back at Grace and rushing to meet her where she was standing. I hadn't noticed for a second at first, but someone familiar walked quickly past me. I couldn't help stopping to turn; I could swear I knew that back. No one could tell me otherwise, it had to be Mark. It was him.I was right, I confirmed with myself when I actually stopped and turned back to look at the person. It was Mark, I couldn't have missed it, walking with those fast strides of his as usual. He probably didn’t see me? Or if he maybe didn't recognize me again? I'd been gone for just three months, but if that was enough time for him not to know w
SYDNEY'S POVI threw that damn agreement into the shredder," he spat. "I've already canceled an important meeting for you, I can't waste any more time."He hadn't changed one bit. He was still that angry, impatient man I'd left behind who thought the world revolved around him. Rather, “my world”. If he didn't want his time wasted, why the hell did he follow me back there?Whether he threw the documents into the shredder, or burnt them to ashes with a lighter from his study, or kept them somewhere, none of that was my business.I stepped back from the door and stared angrily at his face."My intention to divorce you is serious and solemn. If you don't accept a divorce by agreement, then I will have to file a lawsuit for divorce. That will only waste more of your “precious” time, Mr. Man!" I made that much clear.At a point, my mind would slide back to think about the man who was probably still hiding somewhere in the house. I was also standing in front of the door and making sure to bl
MARK'S POVI groaned as I turned in bed. My head throbbed dully and I held it as I slowly rose from the bed. I looked at my surroundings and wondered why I was at home. I should be at work.I dropped my head in my hands and tried to remember. It didn't even take a second before the memories rushed back.My assistant had been able to locate where Sydney was and I had left every work I was doing to speak some sense into her. I remember that I had ordered her to follow me then…I frowned. Everything had gone black."That witch! How dare she hit me?" I gritted as I got off the bed. I glimpsed some medication on the drawers as I staggered out of my room.What was wrong with her? Why was she taking this far? I thought.The sound of wood banging against walls reverberated through the house as I threw every door open."Where the heck is she?!"The staff of my household just stood there speechless. Some of them flinched each time the door banged.I had asked where she was about a dozen times a
SYDNEY'S POVI couldn't stop the laugh that burst out of me as I took in the fourth special order for the day.Usually, Atelier receives a bunch of orders on a daily basis, and our employees take care of these orders. But if the jewelry order were to be custom made, the orders came directly to me.Right there on my screen was an order for two pieces of jewelry from Mark's assistant. It had been included in the preference space for it to 'stand out' from any of our jewelries, then he ended it with 'just name your price'.Typical. Only Mark would be so egotistic to make a request sound insulting. It was Mark's assistant that placed the order, but I was sure the order was on behalf of Mark. There was no way his assistant would be able to afford Atelier's custom-made designs for himself.I swiveled in my chair, whistling, "Time to make some extra millions."I turned back to my laptop's screen and reread the last phrase. My grin widened, "Oh. I am so going to name my price."Briefly, I won
MARK'S POVA knock came on my door."Come in," I called out without tearing my eyes away from the files before me.I heard the smooth creak of the door as it was opened. My assistant's voice drifted to me, "Luxe Vogue has replied, sir.""Hmm," I hummed, and nodded. "When will the necklaces be ready?""It's not about the necklace, sir. It's about the acquisition offer we sent them."I looked up and pushed my chair back. "Oh, really. When are we meeting to finalize the handover of the website?" I asked.It had been a coincidence that Atelier is partnered with the website I've had my eyes on for the past months. Their response hadn't come for months, but I had been relentless. I kept instructing my assistant to keep sending them emails.After Bella had left, I had searched about Atelier myself and damn! Bella was right. They made stunning jewelry. The quality of their stones was top-notch. It had filled me with pride and reassured me that acquiring the website was a good decision. It wou
I kept struggling, pulling at my hands and cussing out as Mark pulled me to the hallway, right beside the male section restroom. I stumbled after him, unable to keep up with his pace in my heels.Even in my wildest dream, I wouldn't have thought I might run into him here. I mean, in our three years of unfortunate marriage, I could count the number of times on the fingers of one hand I had seen him elsewhere apart from home. I had assumed he was always at work then recently, I concluded that he was either at work or in some fancy hotel fucking my sister."Mark, what is wrong with you?" I hit his fingers wrapped around my wrist with my free hand, "Let go of my hand."He didn't say anything, he just stormed ahead, his back rigid.Ever since I proposed the divorce, he seemed to have become a ghost out to hunt and haunt me, appearing everywhere I was.I let out a low groan as he slammed my back to a wall and pinned me to it. The depth of his deep blue eyes were fathomless and they had turn