1: wake up call

Lola

I never wanted a threesome in the first place. I only agreed to it in order to make my husband happy, and also in hopes of spicing up our marriage. And each day, I regret that tremendously.

I sat at the edge of the bed, my fists clenching the silk robe I had barely bothered to tie. My breathing was shallow, the air around me thick with the scent of sex, sweat and perfume—her perfume. It clung to everything, just like she did.

Right now, just like the last ten times we've had this threesome, my husband had managed to completely forget my presence while busy focusing fully on the girl he brought into their lives for these threesomes.

It was like I was invincible and irrelevant, and like the past ten times, it made me feel sick to my stomach.

I walked out of the room. My bare feet barely made a sound on the carpet as I left the room but even if I had slammed the door, I doubted they'd notice.

I thought this would spice up our marriage and make it more exciting. I agreed to this because it sounded like it was something we needed- something new and different, and not because I actually want to watch my husband kiss and fuck another woman else right in front of me!

My lips were quivering and I was on the verge of a breakdown, but I was determined to not let that happen.

My heart was aching and my husband was the cause of it. I didn't know what was worse, that I bought this upon myself by agreeing to this in the first place or that I didn't have the courage to put an end to it. Was it my fault and was I overthinking things? If I had known I'd barely get any attention in these threesomes, I definitely wouldn't have agreed to it in the beginning.

But James was clearly having fun, was it okay to rob him of that? Wouldn't that make me a bad wife?

"I can't believe I'm blaming myself for feeling neglected." I muttered bitterly as I sank down on the couch and I tried not to sink into a bed of sadness because it was my fucking birthday, but the silence was not helping. James had gone to drop off Alina, the girl he invited in our midst for our threesomes, the one he suggested a few months ago.

It was my birthday night and I was home alone.

How pathetic.

~~~

 When James finally came home—after dropping Alina off, of course—it was already past midnight. The door creaked open, and I heard his familiar footsteps before I saw him. He looked relaxed, his shirt untucked and his tie slung loosely around his neck.

"You're still up?" he asked, his tone casual, as though nothing was wrong. As if I hadn't just spent my entire birthday alone, sad as hell and extremely dejected, while wondering if my husband still loved me.

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I looked down at the table, tracing the edge with my finger. "We need to talk."

"Now?" His brow furrowed as he tossed his keys onto the counter. "Can't it wait? I'm exhausted."

"It can't," I said firmly, standing up. My voice was steady, even though my heart was racing.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, what's so important?"

"I want to stop," I blurted.

"Stop what?"

"The threesomes," I replied, meeting his gaze for the first time. "I don't want to do it anymore."

James blinked, as though I'd just told him something absurd. "Lola, don't be ridiculous. You're overthinking this."

"I'm not," I said, crossing my arms. "It's not fun for me. It's not exciting like I expected it to be. I thought I'd be the main focus of them. But instead It's... humiliating. Every single time, you forget I'm even there. Tonight, you didn't even look at me during the act. It's my birthday today and you still invited her over for a threesome! You—" My voice cracked, but I forced myself to continue. "You didn't even notice when I left the room."

His expression shifted, irritation flickering across his face. "You're being dramatic. I asked you before we started this, didn't I? I didn't force you to do anything. You agreed to this." His voice climbed up a few octaves as he stared down at me.

"I thought it would be a one-time thing," I said, raising my voice to match his. "Or maybe twice. I agreed because I wanted to make you happy, James. But now it's every week, and every time, I feel like I'm disappearing."

"That's not fair," he shot back. "You're acting like I don't care about you—like I don't include you."

"Include me?" I repeated bitterly. "James, you don't even see me when she's here. I'm just... there, in the background, invisible. It's like I don't exist."

He groaned, rubbing his temples. "What do you want me to do, Lola? Stop? Just like that? You can't expect me to—"

"I do expect you to," I cut in. "Because it's hurting me, James. It's tearing me apart."

"Stop joking around, Lola." He ordered but I pursed my lips.

"I'm not." I responded flatly.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn't say anything. Then, his voice dropped, "I can't stop."

"Why not?" I asked, my voice sharper than I expected.

He refused to speak at first till I repeated the question a few more times.

"Because I'm in love with her," he said flatly, and my legs started getting wobbly. "I've been sleeping with her long before I ever brought her here, Lola. Th—"

I staggered back, my hand gripping the edge of the counter for support. Nothing prepared me for the words that just came out of James' mouth. "You're in love with her?"

"Yes," he said, his tone almost defiant. "I didn't think it would come to this, but—"

"Stop," I whispered, shaking my head. "Just stop."

"Lola, listen—"

"No," I said, my voice breaking. "I'm done listening. I knew something was wrong—I'm not stupid, James. I've felt it every time she came over for the stupid theeesomes. The way you look at her, the way you forget I'm even there. But to hear you say it..."

"Why?" My voice came out in a whisper, trembling. "Why would you do this to me?"

James sighed, running a hand through his hair like he was the one burdened by this conversation. "Because I don't feel that way about you, Lola. I never have. You're just not . . . .sexy."

I flinched as if he'd slapped me. "If you don't love me, then why—??!" My throat tightened, and I forced myself to get the words out. "Why did you marry me?"

His lips curled into a smirk, and for a moment, I didn't recognize the man standing in front of me. "Because of your company. It was a smart move. You handed me everything I needed to build my career, and I knew you'd be too stupid to see it."

My breath caught. "James... you're lying." At least, he'd better be.

"Am I?" he shot back, his voice sharp. "You really thought I loved you? Look at yourself, Lola. You're not sexy, you're not exciting, and you're nothing like her. You were just… convenient."

My knees wobbled, and I gripped the edge of the chair to steady myself. I wanted to scream but no sound came out. All I could do was stare at him, stunned.

"Where are you going?" I finally managed to ask as he grabbed his coat and car keys.

"Back the person I actually love," he said simply, his tone casual. "Where else would I go?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My hands balled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. "How can you do this to me, James? How can you just... throw me away like this?"

He didn't even pause. "I don't owe you anything, Lola. You wanted the truth, so here it is. And honestly, I'm tired of this conversation."

I stood there, shaking, as he headed for the door. I couldn't believe this was really happening, it felt like a stupid joke. But clearly it was happening and also very real.

I racked for brain for anything, desperation eating up at my heart.

"If you leave right now, I'll file for divorce," I blurted as soon as the thought entered my mind, my voice stronger than I felt.

James stopped and turned to face me. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, and I knew it was pathetic , but I hope he'll refuse to leave and come back here to apologize to me and take those vile words back before claiming it was a joke.

But then he laughed, making me realize that this was for real, he really didn't give a shit about me. He wasn't scared to lose me, at all.

"Go ahead," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "But don't forget, Lola—everything is in my name now. The company, the house, the cars. If you want to play that game, you'll leave with nothing."

My jaw dropped in shock as realization dawned on me.

"You wouldn't—"

"I already have," he cut in. "You gave me control over everything, remember? You're the one who trusted me. So go ahead and divorce me if you think you can handle being penniless."

He didn't wait for a response. He walked out, slamming the door behind him. Everything was spinning. I felt like the floor had been ripped out from under me, and I was falling into some dark, endless void.

My legs carried me to the couch, and I collapsed into it, my face buried in my hands. The tears came slowly at first, then faster, until I was sobbing uncontrollably. I cried for my ruined birthday, for the love I thought we had, for the betrayal that now seemed so clear. How could I have been so blind? What the hell was I thinking?

As time passed, the tears dried up, and something else took their place. A cold, determined anger.

James thought he could leave me with nothing? He thought I would just sit here and let him destroy me? No. Not this time.

My heart was pulsing with so muggy pain and hurt that it was almost hard to breathe, but I forced myself to get up. I marched upstairs to our bedroom, flipping on the light and tearing through every drawer, every shelf. Papers and clothes were strewn across the floor as I searched for what I knew had to be here. James might have taken control of the company, but I still had leverage– the original documents of everything.

Finally, I found an envelope buried under a stack of documents in his nightstand. My parents' company, the one I had trusted James to lead, was all here in black and white. Every decision, every transfer of power. I clutched the papers tightly. This was my ticket. My way out.

I didn't bother cleaning up the mess I'd made. I grabbed a bag, stuffed it with a few random clothes and essentials, and walked out the door without looking back. I didn't care where I was going—anywhere was better than here.

By the time I reached an hotel, the adrenaline had worn off, and I could feel again. I didn't want to feel. I checked into a room, the receptionist giving me a sympathetic smile because clearly I still looked extremely heartbroken.

I locked the door and sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

A small, rebellious part of me wondered suggested that I should go to a club, find a stranger, and fuck the hell out of him.

But I was never one to do flings. It was why I fell for James. I knew him since I was a child, but we only began to date in the middle of college and he was very patient with me back then till I was comfortable enough for him to take my virginity.

He promised me he wouldn't ever leave me.

And now he had betrayed me.

I curled up on the bed, clutching the papers to my chest because I was nothing but a coward and my marriage proved it. The tears came again, hot and relentless, until exhaustion finally took over.