Emily's voice, hoarse, held a trace of... pleasure? "Ryan... thanks... really shouldn't have... Just a chill, I think... exhausted." Ryan's voice lowered, turned viscous like syrup. "Nonsense! You're one of my star pupils! The gym's dull without you! Everyone asks about Em. Rest, get strong first." A deliberate pause, dropping lower, conspiratorial. "Oh, and that new gear you bought? Said you'd bring it today? I brought it. Put it in your closet like requested, ready when you're well." Closet? Beside them. Our closet. Holding private things.
Rage Ignited
My fingers clenched, nails biting deep into my palms. Sharp pain registered. He'd put clothes away? For my wife? While she lay sick? In our bedroom closet? Who did he think he was? How familiar were they? My heart hammered like a battle drum in my ears. Uncontrollable, destructive fury surged. Burning tears threatened. I forced myself still, gulping cologne-tainted air. Inside, silence fell thickly.
Silent Listening
Then Emily's voice, urgent, masking something, pitched higher: "Ryan... David... my husband... he's outside..." A reminder? A plea to leave? Anxiety threaded her tone. Ryan chuckled, low and magnetic, laced with infuriating familiarity and condescension. "Relax. David seems... solid. A good man." He paused, heavy with judgment. Then, casually, each word a venomous barb: "Saw him in the living room. Em, honestly? A woman of your caliber – beautiful, driven, striving for excellence? You deserve a partner more... matched. Someone who truly understands and supports your progress."
NEXT >> 
