My Husband's Affair, My Anniversary Gift

Lily sighed as she finished another late night at the office-covering for Jenny, who had called in "sick" yet again. But when she finally dragged herself home and scrolled through social media, her stomach twisted. There was Jenny, cocktail in hand, laughing with a group of friends at some trendy bar.

Of course. The realization stung. Jenny had never been her friend. Behind that sweet smile, she had been seething with envy over Lily's work ethic-and worse, spreading vicious rumors that Lily was sleeping with their boss, David.

None of them knew the truth: she wasn't his mistress. She was his wife.

Lily was used to the whispers, the sideways glances. She had learned to swallow the bitterness. But as she got ready for bed, her phone buzzed with a breaking news alert-a gossip headline splashed across the screen:

"Billionaire CEO David Hardison Reunites with Ex-Girlfriend Marina at Exclusive Gala-Are Sparks Still There?"

Her breath hitched. A photo beneath the caption showed David, devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo, standing close to the stunning socialite. Too close.

Unlike the office rumors, this wasn't just petty gossip. This was David. Her husband. The man who, after five years of marriage, still looked at her with polite detachment rather than love. Except on the bed.

A sob tore from her throat as the dam inside her broke. She crumpled onto the edge of the bed, tears streaming down her face. How could it still hurt this much?

Lily had loved David Hardison from the moment she first saw him.

Nine years ago, fresh out of university, she had joined Hardison Corp with starry-eyed ambition-only to have her breath stolen the instant David strode past her desk. Sharp suit. Colder eyes. A presence that commanded every room, every glance, every foolish heart.

Including hers.

But he'd been Marina's.

Everyone knew he had been Marina's.

Still, Lily stayed and became his secretary. She learned the rhythm of his moods, the way his jaw tightened before he fired someone, the rare, fleeting smirk when a deal went his way.

And five years ago, when Marina vanished without a trace-leaving David shattered-Lily was the one who picked up the pieces.

Literally.

That night at the bar, David had been a wreck. Whiskey-soaked and hollow-eyed, he gripped her wrist like she was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Her heart shattered. But she knew her place. She was just his secretary.

She drove him home, tending to him with quiet efficiency, careful not to overstep. But as she turned to fetch a fresh towel, he pinned her against the wall and kissed her with a feverish, bruising intensity-as if she were someone else.

Lily tried to resist. But the raw agony in his eyes broke her. And so, she let him take her-rough, reckless.

And when she woke the next morning-naked, aching, his scent still on her skin-he stood by the window, smoke curling from his cigarette as he tossed a contract onto the rumpled sheets.

"Read it. Sign it."

Her fingers shook as she lifted the paper.

Marriage Contract.

Terms: Wife in name only. No emotional attachments. No expectations.

Duration: Until Marina returns.

Lily's throat closed. "Mr. Hardison, you don't owe me anything. Last night was-"

A dark chuckle cut her off. He turned, and the look in his eyes froze her blood.

"Don't flatter yourself. This isn't about responsibility." He crushed his cigarette, his voice merciless. "My mother wants me to be married. She likes you. And I need a placeholder."

"You'll be my wife on paper only. You'll have everything-except my heart. You'll never be Marina."

The words hung between them, sharp as a blade.

Lily knew the rules and she'd never hold his heart. But four years of loving him in silence had carved hope too deep to ignore.

Maybe, whispered the foolish part of her, if I stay long enough, he'll see me.

So she signed.

And for five long years, she learned the torment of being a placeholder.

By day, she was his flawless secretary-polite, professional, invisible.

By night, she was his warm body in the dark-a silent substitute for the woman he truly wanted.

And every time he groaned "Marina" into her skin, Lily died a little more.

Lily's fingers trembled as she adjusted the straps of her silk nightgown, the champagne-colored fabric clinging to her curves. She had bought it weeks ago, imagining David's reaction-Would his eyes darken? Would he finally see her?

The beep of the front door code.

Her breath hitched.

David strode in, his tailored suit jacket slung over one shoulder, tie loosened. The scent of his cologne-smoky sandalwood and sin-flooded the room before he even spotted her. Then his gaze locked onto her, and his steps faltered.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "What's this?"

Lily lifted her chin, her pulse racing. "Five years today."

A beat of silence. Then his mouth curled-not in a smile, but a challenge. He closed the distance in three strides, his fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head back. "Expecting a celebration?"

Before she could answer, his mouth crashed down on hers.

His kiss was all heat and hunger, teeth scraping her lower lip, tongue claiming hers with a possessiveness that made her knees buckle. She gasped as he backed her against the wall, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs, hitching her up until her legs wrapped around his waist.

"David-"

"Quiet." His voice was rough, his breath hot against her throat as he bit down where her pulse fluttered. "You wanted my attention? You've got it."

Every rational thought evaporated. This-the way he manhandled her, the growl in his voice-was the David she craved. The one who burned the world down for what he wanted.

And for tonight, she was what he wanted.

His hands tore at the flimsy silk, his mouth leaving bruising kisses down her collarbone. When he carried her to the bed, she arched into him, her legs sissored around his waist.

"Look at me," he demanded, pinning her wrists above her head.

Her breath came in shallow pants as she obeyed. His eyes were black with lust, but beneath it-was that something else? A flicker of. recognition?

Hope flared in her chest-

Then he buried himself inside her with a groan, claiming her hard. Lily arched against him, nails raking down his back, meeting his thrusts with a desperation she had never allowed herself before.

Maybe tonight. Maybe this time-

His breath hitched, his rhythm faltering-a telltale sign. With a final snap of his hips, he spilled inside her, his body shuddering against hers.

And then, on a ragged exhale: "Marina."

The name punched through Lily's chest like a blade.

As if summoned, David's phone rang-Marina's custom tone, a lilting piano melody Lily had come to dread.

David rolled off her in an instant, grabbing the phone. His voice, moments ago rough with desire, softened into something tender. "Hey. Yeah, I'm here."

Lily lay frozen, the sheets tangled around her legs, his release still warm between her thighs. She watched his back-the taut muscles, the faint scars she had traced with her lips a thousand times-as he paced to the window, his laughter low and intimate. "Miss me already?"

The contrast was cruel. With Lily, he was all sharp edges and demands. With Marina, he melted.

When he hung up, the silence was suffocating. Lily sat up, clutching the ruined silk to her chest.

"She's back." Not a question.

David didn't look at her. "We reconnected last month."

Last month. While Lily had been marking their anniversary on the calendar like a fool.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. "I'll pack my things. I can be out of the penthouse by-"

"Stay." He finally turned, his expression unreadable. "Marina doesn't like used spaces. She won't come here."

Used. The word lodged in Lily's heart like a shard of glass.

Her fingers dug into the mattress, nails scraping against silk as she watched him dress with mechanical efficiency-tie knotted with military precision, cufflinks snapped into place.

He didn't glance back. Didn't hesitate. The front door clicked shut with surgical finality.

Five years of marriage.

Not even a "thank you."

She was a placeholder, temporary solution. And now that his real love had returned?

It was time for her to step aside.

The master bedroom smelled like him-that intoxicating blend of sandalwood and cold indifference. Lily stood in the doorway, her suitcase wheels catching on the threshold like a final protest.

Five years.

Five years of stolen moments in this gilded cage.

They had fucked against every surface-the mahogany desk, the shower glass, the very spot where her knees now threatened to buckle. But they had never made love. Not once.

Her packing took less than ten minutes.

How pathetic, that a marriage could be undone faster than the time it took David to choose a tie each morning. The suitcase-bought new for their honeymoon, still faintly dusty from disuse-gaped open like a wound.

She filled it only with what she had brought: a few books, the pearl earrings her mother left her, the silk nightgown he had once torn off her without looking at the color.

The study smelled of his Cuban cigars and betrayal.

There, in the top drawer where he kept his whiskey and condoms, lay the divorce papers. Prepared before they got married. A contingency plan for Marina's inevitable return.

Lily signed without trembling. The pen glided smoothly as the knife he had slid between her ribs for half a decade.

She had come to him willingly.

She left with equal resolve.

No tears. No dramatics. Just the quiet unraveling of a dream she should have abandoned the first time he had whispered another woman's name into her hair.

The front door clicked shut behind her.

Rain lashed the pavement as she hailed a cab. The droplets streaked the windows like the tears she refused to shed.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

The question froze her.

Leave. Just leave. That had been her only thought. But now, faced with the reality-she had nowhere to go.

No home. No family.

Her mother had died bringing her into this world. Her father's remarriage had brought only a stepmother whose mistreatment cut deeper than cruelty. Her childhood had been a nightmare.

The only peace she had ever known were those fleeting years with David-years she now realized were just another kind of solitude.

She had severed ties with her own family for him, unwilling to let their dysfunction touch his world.

And what had it earned her?

A divorce paper signed before marriage. A husband who used her merely as a sex toy.

"Where to?" The driver's voice sharpened as horns blared behind them.

Panic tightened her throat. Then, before she could think-

"Noa's apartment. 27 Willow Lane."

The name escaped like a confession. Noa, her best friend since high school. The woman who had gripped her shoulders the day she signed that contract marriage, eyes blazing: "You'll regret this, Lily. He'll destroy you."

And like a fool, she had laughed it off.

Now, with the divorce papers heavy in her bag and the taxi meter counting away her old life, Lily finally believed it.

The clock ticked 12:17 AM when Lily appeared at Noa's doorstep. Rainwater dripped from her hair onto the welcome mat-Noa's joke gift from last Christmas: "Go Away Unless You Have Wine."

Her knuckles hovered, trembling.

The door flew open before she could knock.

Noa stood there in rumpled pajamas, her sleep-mussed braids swinging as she jerked fully awake.

"Jesus Christ, Lily-" Her voice cracked when she saw Lily's shattered expression, the death-grip on her suitcase. "You look like you walked out of a fucking horror movie."

Lily's attempt at a smile twisted into something broken. "I didn't... know where else..." The words dissolved like sugar in whiskey.

Noa didn't ask. She just yanked her inside, kicking the door shut with her bare foot.

"You're fucking freezing." Her hands-always warm, always steady-rubbed Lily's icy arms. "Where's your coat? Scratch that-where's your common sense?"

The suitcase thudded to the floor. Lily stared at it, numb. Five years of marriage reduced to one wheeled carry-on.

Noa swore under her breath and manhandled her onto the couch. "Move and I'll duct tape you here." She vanished into the kitchen, banging cabinets with unnecessary violence.

Lily sat. The apartment smelled like Noa's vanilla candle wax and takeout-real life, not David's sterile mansion. Her fingers traced a coffee stain on the cushion. Proof that people actually lived here.

A chipped "World's Best Accountant" mug (a gag gift from Lily) appeared under her nose. Chamomile steam curled between them. Noa didn't do it gently, but her hands were careful as she wrapped Lily's around the heat.

"Drink. Then talk. Or don't. But hydrate, you tragic heroine."

The tea scalded Lily's tongue. Good. Pain meant she still felt.

Noa perched beside her, knee bouncing. Waiting.

"I signed them," Lily whispered to the tea leaves. "The divorce papers."

Noa went statue-still.

"Marina's back." The words came out strangled. The tea rippled-her hands were shaking now. "They're. together."

A tear plopped into the mug. Then another. Silent. Efficient. Like she had practiced this moment in the mirror for years.

Noa exploded off the couch. She didn't miss the bruise-like love bites peeking above Lily's collar. If David had chosen Marina, why leave marks like claim staked on condemned land?

"Fuck that emotionally stunted bastard-" She kicked the coffee table so hard a magazine slid off. "I'll burn Hardison Corp to the ground. I'll-"

"It doesn't matter." Lily's voice surprised them both-hollow as a picked-clean bone. "I know he never loved me. And I promised him. The contract..."

Noa whirled, eyes blazing. "That contract was emotional blackmail and you know it-" She bit off the rest, fists clenching. Because they had had this argument before. Many times.

The silence stretched. The radiator hissed. Somewhere downstairs, a dog barked.

Finally, Noa sat. Not touching, but close. "Okay," she said, exhaling hard. "Okay. Fuck him. His loss."

She gently hugged Lily, her tone firm, "I've got you. You're home now."

Tears burst out, and Lily curled into Noa's side, her tea cooling between them. Outside, the rain slowed to a drizzle. The world kept turning.

And for the first time in five years-so did Lily.

***

The next day, Lily went to work as usual. The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing Jenny's smug face.

"Oh, Lily," Jenny chirped, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "You're such an angel for covering my shift last night."

Her manicured fingers fluttered near her chest in mock gratitude.

"But then again," she added with a poisonous smile, "it's not like you have much of a personal life to interfere, do you?"

"Did you see the news? David's real love is back." She leaned in, her perfume cloying. "And everyone bets he'll propose to her soon."

Jenny's painted lips curled in triumph. "Face it-you'll never be the one to win David's heart."

Lily's grip tightened on her bag, but her voice remained ice-cold. "Funny, coming from someone who couldn't even handle a simple report without faking a migraine."

She stepped past Jenny without another glance, leaving the other woman gaping.

At her desk, Lily mechanically sorted through emails, her movements precise, practiced. The resignation letter in her bag weighed heavily against her hip-a burden, yet also a promise of freedom.

She couldn't stay. Not after last night. Not when every glance at David would remind her of Marina's triumphant return. Today would be the last time she made his coffee.

The ritual began without thought-measuring the exact 17 grams of Ethiopian beans, heating the water to 96°C, and timing the 30-second bloom. She had perfected this routine like she had perfected everything else about being Mrs. Hardison-the silent wife, the flawless secretary, the warm body in the dark.

The first time he had praised her coffee, she had clung to that scrap of approval like a lifeline. Maybe if I perfect this, she had thought, he'll see me. What a fool she had been.

Steeling herself, she pushed open his office door-only to freeze.

David wasn't at his desk.

Instead, Marina lounged in his leather chair like a queen on a throne, her manicured fingers tracing the edge of his polished mahogany desk. She looked up, a slow, feline smile spreading across her lips.

"Oh, Lily," she purred. "I've heard about you."

"David's secretary," Marina drawled, rising from his chair with deliberate grace. Her eyes raked over Lily with slow, calculated disdain-from her sensible heels to her neatly pinned-up hair. "Hmm. I don't see what all the fuss is about."

Lily kept her expression neutral, though her fingers tightened around the coffee tray. "Can I help you with something, Ms. Laurent?"

Marina smirked, circling her like a predator. "Oh, I'm just. assessing the competition." She paused, tapping a manicured nail against David's desk. "Tell me, how does it feel? Playing house with someone else's man for five years?"

Lily didn't flinch. "If you're referring to my work, all records are up to date. Would you like me to pull the files?"

Marina's smile faltered. She hadn't expected this calm, this wall of professionalism that made her barbs feel childish. This wasn't the reaction she'd come for, and her voice sharpened."Cute. But we both know you were just a placeholder."

She leaned in, her whisper venomous. "David told me everything. How lonely he was. How. convenient you were."

She smirked. "Did you really think he'd settle for a glorified coffee-fetcher?"

Lily's pulse roared in her ears, but her reply was steady. "Our arrangement is over. And since this is a workplace, I suggest we keep things professional. Mr. Hadison dislikes distractions."

"Ooh, listen to you," Marina mocked, eyes flashing. "Like you know him so well."

She plucked the coffee cup from the tray, swirling the dark liquid. "Let me guess-Ethiopian beans? 96 degrees? Pathetic. You could brew this for him every day for the rest of your life and he'd never see you. You know he only loves it because it was my favorite once."

Lily's heart stuttered. She had suspected, but hearing it was another kind of wound.

"Still in denial?" Marina taunted. "Then let me show you who he'll choose."

Before Lily could react, Marina flung the scalding coffee-not at Lily, but over her own hand.

"Ah!" Marina's sharp cry echoed as the cup clattered to the floor, right as David strode into the office.

Lily's breath caught. The scene was unmistakable: Marina cradling her reddened wrist, tears glistening on her lashes, and Lily standing frozen-holding an empty tray.

Marina's voice trembled with practiced hurt. "David. I only came to say hello, and she-she just snapped and threw her coffee at me!"

David's head snapped toward Lily, his expression darkening like a thundercloud.

"Lily!" His voice cracked through the office like a whip. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Lily stood frozen, the empty tray still clutched in her hands. Her lips parted in stunned disbelief.

"I didn't-"

"Enough!" David cut her off sharply. "You think just because you've worked here for years, you can do whatever you want? That I'd tolerate you attacking someone?"

Lily's hands shook. "David, she poured it on herself. I didn't touch her."

"On herself?" He barked a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "Marina treats her hands like treasures. And you expect me to buy that pathetic excuse?"

"It's the truth-" Her voice wavered, thick with hurt.

"Apologize." His command left no room for argument.

"I won't apologize for something I didn't do."

David's jaw tightened. "Then you'll face the consequences."

Before Lily could react, he snatched the wine bottle from his desk and upended it over her head.

Ice-cold liquor drenched her hair, streaming down her face, and soaking into her blouse. The sharp scent of alcohol filled the air as droplets splattered onto the floor.

Across the room, Marina's lips curled in triumph-though she quickly schooled her features into false concern. "David, darling, it's not worth getting so upset..." she murmured, fanning the flames even as she pretended to soothe them.

David barely glanced at Lily again, his attention already shifting to Marina's reddened hand.

"Let's get you to the hospital," he said tightly, guiding her toward the door with a protective hand at her back.

As they swept past, Lily stood motionless, liquor still dripping from her chin. The office had gone deathly quiet-every colleague frozen in their cubicles, eyes wide with shock.

*

The office buzzed with whispers the rest of the morning. Lily could feel the stares burning into her back as she worked-pitying, mocking, triumphant.

She was in the restroom cleaning the last traces of wine from her collar when Jenny's unmistakable giggle echoed off the tiles.

"-wish you'd seen her face when Mr. Hadison dumped that drink on her!" Jenny crowed to her gaggle of followers. "All these years playing the perfect secretary, and look how he treats his little pet."

"We should celebrate tonight," another voice chimed in. "Finally, the gold-digger gets what she deserves."

Lily's reflection in the mirror stared back at her-hair still damp, eyes red-rimmed but dry. Something inside her snapped.

She yanked the decorative watering can from the windowsill and flung the contents in a wide arc.

A chorus of shrieks filled the air as Jenny and her cronies stumbled back, dripping.

"You crazy bitch!" Jenny screeched, mascara running down her cheeks.

"No," Lily said calmly, setting the can down with a clink. "Just returning the favor for all those times I covered your incompetence."

"Let's see-" She ticked off on her fingers. "You can't format a spreadsheet without breaking the formulas, Claire's reports are always late, and Sophie-" A cold smile. "Well, we all know who actually writes your presentations."

"So what?" Jenny still had no guilt. "Blame yourself for being so stupid!"

Lily caught Jenny's wrist mid-swing and shoved-hard. The other woman went sprawling on the wet tiles.

"Go ahead, report me," Lily said, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. "My resignation's already on David's desk. I'm more interested in seeing how long before he realizes none of you can handle your own projects."

Then she turned her heels toward the hallway.

When Lily walked out of the building, the afternoon sun glared unforgivingly bright.

Lily pulled out her phone and typed with steady fingers:

> David -

The signed divorce papers are on your desk.

P.S. You'll need a new secretary."

Then she hit send.