Stole My Snacks, Lost His Pride

I glared at him, disgust rising. "Who do you think you are?"

Scanning the office, I declared, "This institute is mine, registered under my name, and your boss is my wife."

Jake froze for a split second, then burst into laughter. "Yeah, sure. You're decent-looking, but a delivery drone claiming Monica as your wife? Delusional much?" he scoffed. "If you're her husband, then I'm the president."

He kicked the flowers away and sauntered closer, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Get real. Take a good look at yourself."

His words hung in the air, igniting a chorus of snide whispers from behind me. The barbs stung like needles, each dripping with mockery.

Then, a swirl of fabric caught my eye. It was the unmistakable silhouette of Monica.

She strode in and demanded, "What's the commotion? Breakthroughs to discuss?"

Clad in a sleek beige pantsuit, she clutched a thick folder of documents. Her eyes locked on mine, and for a heartbeat, her composure faltered.

Her pupils contracted, and her fingers whitened around the papers. "Alex? You didn't mention you were back."

The room fell into a hush, and disappointment washed over me like a cold wave. I'd tried to tell her through the call earlier, but she had hung up on me.

I pointed at Jake. "Who is this guy?"

"Alex..." Monica hesitated, glancing between us.

"Babe, this delivery guy is unhinged," Jake interjected. "Claims that he bought the flowers and that he owns this place. He even scuffed up those shoes you bought me."

He draped an arm over her shoulder, adding, "Look at the mess. The flowers are trashed. He even trash-talked you. What a nut!"

I narrowed my eyes, marveling at his brazen audacity.

Turning to Monica, I demanded, "Why don't you tell him the answer? Who is your real husband?"

My voice was steady despite the storm within.

In the next instant, she looped her arm through Jake's, her voice syrupy. "Jake, obviously. Who are you to make a scene here?"

Incredulity hit me like a slap. I'd earned my stripes as a top national researcher long before meeting Monica.

Early in our relationship, I'd found her sobbing curbside, her family refusing to fund her education. I used my scholarship to support her.

Then it all unfolded naturally: graduation and marriage. My work kept me lab-bound, but I'd trusted her implicitly.

But now, she denied our bond.

I scanned her face, piecing together her motives. It all circled back to Jake.

But before I could retort, he barreled forward again.