My Husband Chose His Mistress

Princeton probably never imagined I would show up at this gala.

The music flowed smoothly, and the venue was filled with the elite, all dressed in elegant Victorian-style gowns and tuxedos, engaged in lively conversations. There I was, feeling like an outsider, completely out of my element amidst the gathering's opulence.

Princeton was easy to spot. After trailing behind him for what felt like ages, I could recognize him instantly. He wore a sharp black tuxedo, with Zuri on his arm, her hair cascading like silk, stealing the spotlight.

I stood quietly, watching them laugh and talk as if they were the couple truly meant for each other. Even though I had expected this, the pain in my chest felt like it was being carved by a knife.

It was as if my heart was filled with icy spikes, numbingly cruel.

I did nothing but watch them, arm in arm, effortlessly greeting every guest. It wasn't until someone gestured toward my direction while speaking to Princeton that he turned to look at me.

I wore a Victorian-style evening gown that hung loosely on me, having grown too thin for it. My complexion was pale, and my cheekbones more pronounced—far too plain compared to Zuri, not fitting for such a gathering.

The moment he saw me, Princeton's expression shifted dramatically. He let go of Zuri's arm and started walking toward me. Perhaps he wanted to explain, to assure me there was no misunderstanding. Or maybe he intended to ask me to leave for Zuri's sake.

It didn't matter anymore.

I gave him a soft smile, then turned and walked away. The last flicker of warmth within me was completely extinguished...