Infidelity: His Regret, My Revenge – A Twisted Love Story You Can't Ignore

I stumbled, nearly crashing into his chest. At the last second, I grabbed the doorframe, using every ounce of strength to steady myself.“Morning,” I gasped, forcing a smile that was both strained and vaguely professional.

Evan looked at me, saying nothing. In that moment, his silence was a silent accusation, a questioning of my early–morning stealth. His self–righteous expression made me want to ask him if he wasn’t the one who’d gone on a couple of primal rampages the night before.

He was already dressed in a sharp, vintage dark brown suit, tall and elegant, every inch the sophisticated gentleman. Gone was the man from last night. I scoffed inwardly. He’d recovered quickly, and was already criticizing my sneaking around.

“I came to wake you,” I offered as a flimsy excuse.“We’re leaving this afternoon. I thought I’d pack.”

He was silent for a few seconds.“Let’s have breakfast first.”

Breakfast?! I didn’t want to have breakfast with him! The very thought was excruciatingly awkward.

ahead,” I said backing away.“I usually

here. I hope you won’t regret it.” He didn’t elaborate, simply turning and leaving. I was completely baffled. Regret? Did he have someone hidden in the room? The question hung in the air

back and painstakingly packed my own, lingering for ages downstairs, assuming

I got downstairs, he was sitting on the sofa in the living room. “Did

was he waiting for me“? I absolutely did *not* want to have breakfast

he said, rising. Seeing me remain motionless,

usual cool and austere demeanor, my

mind

intentional. I’m a grown woman! These images just… appeared! I

you you’d regret it,” he