Darius and I were the happiest two people could ever be.
Everyone saw us as the model husband and wife, both high in status and love. We were absolutely flawless. Perfect, in fact.
That was what I thought.
Until one night as I was coming home from some time with family earlier than expected. The carriage dropped me off at the door and I paid the driver, then walked up the steps to the front door.
It was at week's end, so the servants should be at home, so I didn't expect to hear much from the house. It was mostly dark as I shut the door, and silently made my way through the house. I wanted to be quiet in case Darius was asleep, as to not wake him. I stepped into the kitchen, setting my handbag on the counter.
As I began to make my way to the bedroom, I noticed that the light was peeking from underneath the door. I stopped at first, then shrugged as I remembered Darius likes to read before bed.
Until I heard hushed voices.
Now that was strange. I knew Darius got clients a lot, but not this late and certainly not on the weekend.
And Darius never talked to his clients in the bedroom. Only the kitchen.
Still, it could be just a friendnd our acquaintance of his, so I reached for the door handle...
I opened the door to find Darius, my Darius, kissing another woman. I immediately gasped, covering my mouth with the palm of my hand.
Darius heard it, of course, and turned to see me standing in the doorway, shocked.
"D-Darius..." I managed out, holding back the fountains of tears firming in my eyes.
"Elizabeth, it's not what it-" Darius tried, striding over to me. I glanced at his clothes, his jacket thrown on the bed, vest and dress shirt unbuttoned slightly.
The girl herself awkwardly pat her dress, as if cleaning invisible dust off it. She glanced a look at me, and I returned it with a cold and steely glare.
My shock and sadness had suddenly morphed into something else...pure rage.
"You..." I muttered, surprised by how calm and cold I sounded. "Darius...you and that girl better leave. Now."
"But, it's my-" Darius protested, but I held up a hand in his face.
"Darius...just go."
He glared at me, staring down into my eyes. I glared back, challenging him. I wasn't the one who brought the girl in our home. I didn't decide to be unfaithful.
I didn't deserve to burn in hell like him.
"Go!" I shouted at Darius, and he rolled his eyes as he pushed past me, down the hallway and through the kitchen until I heard him open and close the front door.
I sighed, slowly sitting on the floor. It was too much to handle, too numb to bear. How could he possibly pick her over me?
A feeling twinged the pit of my stomach, a feeling I hadn't felt in a while. A feeling that filled me with white hot rage.
My husband was disloyal. And he would pay.
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