She Returned After Five Months With a Child

Cheater Caught

No response. I then told her I had proof of her infidelity, so she either signed the papers, or I would see her in court. Eventually, I was going to get discharged, and just when I was going through the paperwork, Rochelle called.

Furious, she asked, "Are you mad? I can't believe you're throwing a tantrum like a child! Divorce? What, you think you're the center of the world? I told you I'd end this relationship once I deliver his baby.

"What more do you want? You can't force everyone to do things the way you like! I'll pick you up later. We're having dinner with Queenie. Let this go. Don't make me choose. I can't."

She kept stressing how Samuel and I were both important to her. Nope. Reality told me I was just a free manservant for her, and one who had about as much dignity as a doormat. On the day of our wedding, she left me at the altar just to assuage the crying Samuel.

Samuel and I shared the same birthday, yet she only remembered his. Me? "Sorry, I forgot. I'll make it up to you tomorrow."

Anytime and anywhere he wanted, all Samuel had to do was say the word, and Rochelle would go to him immediately. I used to get mad about it every single time, and she promised it would be the last time.

That promise was often broken before the twenty-four hours were up. If I brought it up, she would call me petty and jealous. And so I asked, "Is Samuel going to be there?"

"Yes."

"Fine. I'll wait."

Well, I wouldn't want Rochelle to apologize to me alone.

She picked me up, and I saw Samuel in the passenger seat. He smiled. "You don't mind, do you? I do this all the time." There was that look again in his eyes—that challenging look.

I smiled. "It's fine."

Yeah, I used to fight over who got the front seat, but Rochelle told me that Samuel would get carsick to shut me up, no matter how disheartened I was.

I saw him scrolling his phone when he was in someone else's car, though. Now that I was going to divorce Rochelle anyway, I didn't care even if they wanted to go on a date, much less fight over a seat.

Rochelle went straight back home, and when we got in, a big banner read, 'Happy birthday, Timothy!'

Queenie and Rochelle's other besties were chatting on the couch.

Queenie was the first one to say hi. "Oh, you're back. Sit. We made this whole party for you. We had to make it up to you somehow."

There was arrogance in her voice, and she almost strutted like some sort of peacock. No, this was no apology. This was a blatant threat.

I scanned the decor and realized something was up with that banner. My name was just plastered over someone else's haphazardly, like it was an afterthought. I saw Samuel's name underneath.

Queenie grabbed a glass of wine from the table. "Well, apologizing to you is supposed to be beneath me, Timothy, but Rochelle insisted, so I'm doing this for her. Sorry, I'm brutally honest, so I say it like it is. You'll never be half the man Samuel is, but Rochelle wanted you, so what can I say?

"I'll finish this big glass of wine, and you let things slide, okay?" She drained the glass of wine, and her friends said sorry, though it was more in a mocking manner than anything.

I said nothing, and Rochelle thought I had let it go, so she tried to hold my arm, but I swung her off.

"I didn't peg you as an orator, Queenie. You shouldn't be explaining yourself to me. How about you explain Samuel's affair to his… drum roll please, mother-in-law!"

I went over to the entrance and yanked the door open.

Then in came a furious lady, bristling like a lioness.