Her Boyfriend Is My Husband of Ten Years

My car was rear-ended. The other driver was a young and beautiful woman, heavily pregnant—eight months along—and incredibly arrogant. Not only did she refuse to apologize, but she also told me to wait. She turned around, crying into her phone.

“Honey, come quick! I’m being bullied!” she said.

Half an hour later, my husband of ten years, Edward showed up with his assistant. The man who had told me he was at home making soup for me, the man I believed loved me deeply, now he appeared with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, slightly out of breath, clearly having rushed out of the house without even changing. He was still wearing the housecoat and slippers I had bought for him.