Chapter 4

Skylar Reed. She was a college acquaintance, two years my junior.

Every semester during finals week, she’d always pester me for my class notes to cram for her exams.

At first, Brandon actually had a bad impression of her, often complaining to me that she was cutting into our date time.

But gradually, things changed.

He'd openly compliment Skylar's dresses, saying she looked so 'innocently sweet.'

Once, I even walked in on them coming out of the men's restroom. Skylar was crying, calling him a 'bad boy' and complaining that he clearly didn't know how to treat a lady gently.

So, they’d been hooking up since then.

About two hours later.

Brandon carried Skylar out of the bathroom, one arm around her, and stood by the bed, attentively blow-drying her hair.

They fooled around for a while before Skylar playfully pushed his shoulder, pouting dramatically.

"It was Leo's first day of preschool today, and you, his dad, didn't even show up. Honestly, you're so useless sometimes."

Brandon pulled her close. "It's all Ellie's fault. She always takes forever to leave, wasting so much of our time together as a family."

"Don't be mad, baby. How about I get you some new jewelry to make up for it?"

"What about Leo?"

Brandon chuckled, holding up three fingers, swearing solemnly.

"For the next week, I'll handle all the school pickups and drop-offs for Leo. Happy now?"

My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms, yet I felt no pain, only numb fury.

I wondered, how could a person be so shameless?

Brandon had been faking his illness for eight years, giving me the cold shoulder for eight years.

Yet, behind my back, he and Skylar had even had a child.

I'd seen the child before.

Brandon's parents had lied, claiming he was a distant relative's kid staying with them temporarily. But they doted on him like their own flesh and blood grandson.

Every time I went to drop off their allowance, the kid would jump out, deliberately squirting me with a toy water gun, spitting out nasty words like 'bad lady' or 'you stole my daddy.'

Like mother, like son, I thought bitterly.

At that moment, Skylar, clearly aroused again, tangled herself around Brandon and they went at it for what felt like hours.

Afterward, she smugly cupped his face, her gaze drifting to my wedding photo on the wall. It was a blatant declaration of ownership.

"Brandon, do you know why I threw out everything else in this house that belonged to Ellie, but kept that photo?"

Brandon smirked, playfully rubbing her small nose.

"Are you being naughty again?"

"Oh, yes! I want her to see with her own eyes that every unremarkable night, you and I are here in this new house she decorated, entwined, inseparable."

"She got to you before I did, the nerve! When it was clear we were the perfect match."

"Still, seeing her get played for a fool all these years by us? I finally got my sweet revenge."

"Speaking of which, don't you feel sorry for her? She's practically withered into an old hag trying to find a cure for you. She's not even thirty and she's got huge patches of gray hair and a face full of wrinkles. Honestly, every time I see her, it makes me cringe."

"That was her choice."

Brandon playfully twirled a strand of Skylar's hair.

"I, pretending to be paralyzed, lying in bed, was much more pitiful. Why didn't you ever feel sorry for me?"

"You're awful."

...

The night stretched on, long and dark.

Some slept in peaceful embrace, others felt their hearts rip apart.