I Became A Mistress

The photo album hit the floor, splaying open to a page that held a photo of the four of them.

All the color drained from Tristan’s face. Panic flickered in his eyes, then vanished as he composed himself.

He stooped to pick up the album, closed it, and set it aside as if nothing had happened.

“Bianca, let me explain. This isn’t what you think it is.”

“Not what, exactly?”

I trembled with anger as I pointed at the woman and children in the photo, my voice sharp.

“Who is she? And who are those two kids? Tristan, you’ve made a fool of me for five years. Do you still think you can deceive me?”

After a long silence, Tristan sighed and moved closer, reaching for my hand.

“Bianca, ours was a business arrangement with no feelings involved. You’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”

I jerked my hand away and stepped back, sick with disgust.

“No feelings were involved, but you somehow ended up with two three-year-olds?”

“I admit I was in the wrong,” he said, finally dropping the act when he realized I was not falling for it anymore. “But I’ll divorce her soon. Just give me a little more time. Once I’ve settled things over there, we can–”

“We can do what, exactly?” I cut him off with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Be together openly? Tristan, do you honestly believe I’m so desperate for you that I’d accept everything you do without any bottom line?”

A wave of sorrow washed over me. I did not even have the right to divorce him, not when there had never been a legal marriage between us.

Five years ago, I had eagerly dragged him to the City Hall to register our marriage after our wedding. Just then, he received a call and claimed there was an urgent matter at work, so he had to fly overseas right away.

“Be patient, and wait for me. The first thing we’ll do when I return is collect our marriage certificate, alright?” He held me close and kissed my forehead lovingly.

From then on, every time I mentioned registering our marriage, he always had an excuse.

Time and time again, I let myself be swayed by his sweet nothings, foolishly believing that love could conquer all.

Looking back, I realized just how naive I truly was.

It was not that he did not want to make it official; he simply could not, since he was already legally married to someone else.

My heart throbbed with bitterness and pain, as if it had been plunged into freezing saltwater.

Tristan’s expression darkened, and it was clear his patience had worn thin.

“Stop being unreasonable, Bianca Guthrie,” he said as he stepped closer; his presence became heavy and oppressive.

“I admit I’ve lied to you, but think about it. Haven’t I treated you well these past five years? Look at the house you live in, the car you drive, and the clothes and accessories you wear. Aren’t they all things I’ve given you? Without me, do you think an orphan like you could live the life you have now?”

I stared at him blankly as my heart sank like a stone.

“So what’s your point?” I kept my gaze fixed on him as I asked, each word slow and heavy, “Should I be endlessly grateful and willingly settle for being your secret lover?”

Tristan ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I just want you to calm down, Bianca. I don’t want to lose you. I may not be able to make you my wife, but I’ve given you all my love these past five years. All you have to do is listen and stay with me–”

“Enough!” I screamed, cutting him off. “You’ve lied to me all these years, and you still have the gall to say that? It’s revolting!”

Having no desire to waste another word on him, I grabbed my suitcase and turned to leave.

But then his hand shot out, gripping my arm so tightly it felt like my bones might snap.

“Bianca, if you walk out of that door, you’ll regret it.”

His voice was cold and dripping with a clear threat.

I turned and met his angry, bloodshot eyes. In that instant, the last shred of affection I felt for him disappeared.

“Tristan, it is you who should be regretting this.”

With that, I walked away, not once looking back.

As I dragged my suitcase through the quiet, late-night streets, I called my best friend, Cindy Lennox.

The moment she picked up, I broke down in tears.

“Cindy, I… I think I’ve been a mistress for the past five years.”