They Called Me the Mistress. I Was His Wife

When I got home, Julian was sitting on the living room couch. A document lay on the coffee table. He pushed it toward me. "I've had the agreement drawn up. I'll give you a bigger share of the house, the car, and the money in our accounts. Call it compensation." I didn't move. "Julian, do you really think that makes up for what you've done to me?" He turned his head away, avoiding my eyes, and frowned. "Annette doesn't know about us," he said. "If marrying you hadn't helped me stay close to her, I never would've done it." "She's not the other woman. You're." He told me he and Annette had dated in college. The year they graduated, she signed with a dance company in Europe, and he had to stay and take over the family business. "Annette's been your friend for twenty years," he said. "Neither of us wants to hurt her, right?" She would be hurt. What about me? My tears hit the floor. Julian sighed and reached up to wipe them away. "It wouldn't be fair to stay with you when I'm thinking about someone else." "Nina, we were married for five years. I want you to have a good life, too." I grabbed the porcelain vase from the entryway console and hurled it. Picture frames, vases, a lamp—one after another, they hit the floor. Julian's face darkened. He caught my wrist. "I'm not asking you to accept this right away. Take your time. I'll make sure you're taken care of." He looked at me. "But don't let Annette find out about any of this. Otherwise…" He didn't finish. He didn't have to. I hit him, overcome with hysteria. "Get out. I don't want to see you." He flung my hand away, irritation flickering across his face, then grabbed his coat. "Fine. Cool off." The door shut. I sank down at the edge of the rug. A shard sliced a long cut across my calf. He was the one who'd pursued me. We'd met through a commercial real estate project. Every day, he'd waited outside my office with a bouquet. "This is a little embarrassing, Nina Lane. I didn't think a man my age could still fall in love at first sight." A lie. Every word of it. He'd deceived me for five years, all for his first love. I lay around the apartment for three days. Julian never came back. On the third afternoon, Annette messaged me. "Nina, I'm home! It's been five years. I've missed you so much." "I have good news!" Annette and I had been friends since we were six. We'd drifted a little after she moved to Europe. But how was I supposed to tell her that her best friend had come between her and the man she loved? The dull ache in my lower abdomen kept getting worse. I picked up my phone and replied. "Okay."

We met at her favorite restaurant. The moment she saw me, she rushed over and threw her arms around me. "I got back together with my ex! You're my best friend. You have to meet him." Every word I'd rehearsed a thousand times lodged in my throat. "What's with that face? Aren't you happy for me?" She rested her chin in her hand, smiling at me. "Even after we broke up, he never really got over me." "One time, someone took a solo that was supposed to be mine. He flew over in person, took the producer out to dinner, and threw in a huge sponsorship to get it back for me." I nearly dropped my glass. My company had once sent me to deal with a difficult client. My boss said close the deal or clear out my desk. I'd called Julian. He did business with the man. One word from him and the client would've backed off. All I got was an automated reply. "I'm currently working on R&D and unavailable to respond. Please leave a message if it's urgent." That day, they pressured me into drinking until I ended up in the hospital. Julian replied two days later. "Adults handle their own jobs. Even if I'd seen your message in time, I wouldn't have stepped in." Annette was still talking. "And then the heat broke in my apartment in Paris. I sneezed in the middle of a voice message to him, and the next day he was on my doorstep." "It was just a little cold, but he insisted on hiring someone to inspect the heating system for the whole building." "He said I get cold easily and he didn't want me getting sick again. My landlord couldn't believe it." I remembered that winter. I'd been driving to pick up a client when I rear-ended a car at a highway exit and broke my left leg. In the ambulance, a police officer called Julian three times. No answer. Eventually, his assistant, Devlin, got back to me. "Mr. Vale is in Paris on business. You know he can't be reached when he's working." I spent three days in the hospital alone. I didn't have enough in my account for the best rehab plan, so I picked the cheapest one. Even now, whenever it rains, the pain keeps me up at night. For five years, "busy with work" had been the wall he hid behind. I was shut out, while Annette was kept safely on the other side. And because I loved him, I'd believed his lies. I'd spent five years using that excuse to numb myself. Annette suddenly patted the back of my hand. "Have you been seeing anyone all these years, Nina? What's the sweetest thing he's ever done for you?" I thought for a long time. "He sent me money when I had a fever." She froze, then looked furious. "He just… sent money?" "Let me talk to him next time. I'll teach him how to treat the woman he loves!" I opened my mouth, ready to tell her everything. Then the door opened. Julian walked in. When he saw me, he froze for half a second. Then his eyes locked onto mine. A warning. Annette excitedly introduced us. She was the only one who talked through the entire meal. I'd never known Julian could be like this. He blew on a spoonful of soup before holding it to her lips. Whatever she couldn't finish, he ate without a second thought. When he ate with me, he wouldn't even touch a glass I'd used. If my fork brushed anything on his plate, he'd rather toss the whole meal and go hungry than take another bite. Halfway through dinner, Annette went to the restroom. Julian leaned over and pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. "You didn't say anything you shouldn't have before I got here, did you?" "Are you sick? If you're not feeling well, I can make an excuse and take you home to rest." I knocked his hand away, tears streaming down my face. "Don't touch me. Spare me the fake concern." He sighed, then suddenly pulled me into his arms. "If you didn't want to come, you should've said no. Feelings don't follow logic. Just try to accept it." I raised my hand to slap him. The door to the private dining room swung open.