I froze, lowering the book. “Stop it, Phil,” I said, my voice firm.
“No, I mean it,” he continued, his tone softening. “It’s like you’ve found a way to turn back time.” He reached out and placed his hand on my knee.
I stiffened.
“Phil, don’t.”
He ignored me, his smile growing. “This place—it brings back memories, doesn’t it? Remember that night on the beach?
The stars, the waves, just the two of us?”
“That was a long time ago,” I said, my voice cold and detached.
“It feels like yesterday,” he murmured, leaning closer. Before I could react, he pressed his lips to mine.
My body went rigid. Then, as if snapping out of a nightmare, I shoved him back.
“What are you doing? Your pregnant wife is waiting for you in your room!”
“But we have history,” he stammered, his voice low. “I thought maybe—”
“Don’t even think about it!” I shouted, standing abruptly.
I grabbed my book and stormed off, my heart pounding in my chest.
How dare he? Did he really think a few compliments could erase everything? I felt sick just being near him.
Later, as I made my way back to my room, I turned a corner and froze.
There was Phil, standing close to the receptionist. Too close.
I watched in stunned silence as he leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t a casual peck—it was the kind of kiss that left no doubt about his intentions.
My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone.
I took a few quick photos, my heart pounding. He hadn’t changed at all.
My stomach turned as I saw them laugh softly, then slip into a nearby room, the door clicking shut behind them.
His young, pregnant wife was upstairs, probably thinking he was perfect. She deserved to know the truth.
He would pay for this.
I didn’t see Phil for two days after what I’d witnessed. When we finally crossed paths at the rehearsal dinner, the air felt heavy.
Mila looked beautiful, glowing with happiness, her joy lighting up the entire room. My heart swelled seeing her so full of life.
Phil stood with Cynti, his arm draped around her as if she were a trophy.
He laughed loudly, flashing that familiar, polished smile.
He looked every bit the devoted husband, drawing admiration from everyone around him. People fawned over them, oblivious to the truth.
I watched in silence. He was so good at this—playing the role of the perfect man.
I had once believed it, too.
But as I stood there, something shifted in me. Phil’s lies, his betrayal—they weren’t my fault. They never had been.
Later, Phil cornered me near the back of the room, his voice low and sharp.
“I hope you’re not planning to tell Cynti about what happened on the terrace,” he said, his eyes narrowing.
“Why shouldn’t I?” I replied, crossing my arms.
“She’s pregnant,” he said quickly. “She doesn’t need the stress. Think about the baby.”
I shook my head, my voice steady.
“You haven’t changed one bit, Phil. Always giving excuses.”
“So, I can count on you to keep quiet?” he pressed, his tone almost smug.
I tilted my head, letting my words sink in. “I saw you with the receptionist,” I said slowly.
“I took photos.”
Phil’s face paled, but I continued, holding his gaze. “You’re right—Cynti doesn’t need the stress. I’ll keep quiet for now.
But if I hear about you cheating again—with a secretary, a waitress, anyone—I’ll show her the truth. She’ll see exactly who you are.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed, his voice venomous. “I’d ruin your life.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head.
“You don’t scare me anymore, Phil. You have no control over me now. I’ll do what I need to.”
“You stupid cow,” he spat, his face twisted with anger.
“How original,” I replied with a smirk.
“Shape up, Phil. You have a good wife carrying your child. If you ruin this, it’s on you.”
Phil opened his mouth, searching for a retort, but nothing came.
He turned abruptly, walking back to Cynti without another word.
I watched him go, a strange sense of peace settling over me. For the first time in years, I felt free. His failures weren’t mine to carry anymore.
I deserved better—and I finally believed it.
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