“You know exactly who I am talking about,” I said, my voice low and steady. “Just do both of us a favour and stop wasting time.”
“But I have no idea who you are talking about!”
She was lying. I could see it in her eyes. But I needed to push harder.
“Who is that guy that has been pounding you just the way you like?”
I stood up from the chair. The movement made her flinch.
“The one who made you come home every day overly satisfied. The one who left you with nothing to give to your husband. The one who made sure I had to wait every single night because you were always tired.”
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
“And don’t even try to whine me,” I continued, stepping closer, “because I have gathered enough evidence to prove my point. Unless you want it the hard way.”
I watched as the confusion on her face suddenly turned into real fear. Not the fear of being caught — the fear of being seen.
She quickly darted her eyes away from mine. She turned her head toward the window and maintained the gaze, as if her life depended on what she saw outside.
Her shoulders rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths.
The weight of the guilt on her face was so glaring that she could not even look elsewhere but the window.
I had seen exactly what I was looking for.
This was actually the last card I had to play. The final move in a game I did not even know I was playing.
Because I desperately needed a good reason to make my decision. I needed something — anything — to push me off the fence I had been sitting on for so long.
And this?
Even though I had seen it coming — even though the signs had been there for months — deep down, I never believed my wife could ever open her legs for another man.
Not her.
Not the woman who had held my hand through the hard times. Not the woman who had looked at me with tears in her eyes on our wedding day and promised to love me until death did us part. Not the woman who had once been my everything.
I knew how we started. I knew how much love she had shown me in the past. I knew the kind of person she had shown herself to be over the years.
So I had hoped — foolishly, desperately — that I was wrong.
That the test would fail.
That she would look at me with confusion and say, “What are you talking about? There is no one else.”
And I would believe her.
But she did not.
She stood there, frozen, staring out the window, unable to look at me, unable to speak, unable to do anything but stand there in the crushing weight of her own guilt.
And I knew.
I knew everything I needed to know.
I started walking towards the door.
My legs felt heavy, as if they were wading through water. I walked past her to the door, making sure to avoid any body contact. I did not want to touch her. I did not want to feel the warmth of the skin that had been warmed by another man.
As soon as I opened the door to leave, I turned to look at her one last time. My wife still could not turn. Could not take a step from where she was. Could not look elsewhere but the window.
I stood at the entrance for a moment and watched her.
Her back was to me now. Her shoulders were shaking. I could not tell if she was crying or trembling or both.
“This right here,” I said finally, my voice quiet but steady, “is the exact reaction I was looking for.”
She did not move.
“I had wished that you would prove me wrong.”
🔥💖OGA I WAN KNACK💖 – EPISODE THIRTEEN – THE QUESTION THAT BROKE EVERYTHING 💖🔥
