ManyWriters

On my wedding day, I was caught in bed with another man by my husband.
The adulterer escaped, leaving the wedding dress my husband had personally designed covered in stains.
He broke down on the spot, his eyes blood-red as he held me, "Who did this?! I'll kill him!"
I pushed him away mockingly and said with contempt,
"Scott, you're always off improving your design skills, leaving me alone at home. I had no choice but to find other men."
He begged me pathetically to stop talking, swearing he'd spend more time with me in the future, but I just walked away.
Five years later, Scott has become a red-hot design master, about to marry his girlfriend.
When we meet again, I'm in the throes of addiction, a complete mess, and he takes me forcefully.
"Irene, you're so cheap!"
But shamelessly, I force a stiff, lifeless smile and say:
"Yes, I'm cheap. I need men."
"Scott, let's have sex one more time."

Addiction Unspoken

At this moment, his face showed signs of exhaustion, his entire body tense with anxiety.


"Did we really locate her? Are you sure there's no mistake?"


The tenth month since she left, the addiction struck again.


More intense than ever before, it quickly robbed me of my reason.


Thankfully, it was my day off, sparing me the embarrassment of losing control in public.


A knock on the door echoed loudly, each thud resonating in my chest.


I struggled to my feet, thinking it must be the sedatives I'd ordered.


But when I opened the door, I was shocked to see Scott's face.


Burning with desire, logically, Scott should have been the cure at my doorstep.


But I didn't want him. Anyone but him would do.


I didn't want to fall back into our toxic entanglement.


As we grappled, I sensed I was about to lose control. I instinctively grabbed the glass feather ornament from the entryway and plunged it towards my arm.


Chapter 9