For the eighth time, I found Keith Hayes in bed with another woman. This time, I didn’t argue.
Instead, I just handed my jacket to the new girl, my voice flat. “Use the back exit.”
She gave me one terrified look before scrambling out the door, clutching the jacket like a shield.
Keith, propped against the headboard, watched me, a cigarette already lit.
“Leave her alone, Amelia. She’s different. Actually fragile. It’s her birthday tonight, so I’ll be staying with her. Don’t wait up.”
I nodded, a cold laugh catching in my throat.
Because Keith didn’t know yet.
His new mistress had HIV.
Used condoms littered the floor. The air was thick with a stale, familiar scent.
I put on a mask, opened the window wide, and did not look at him again.
He blew a lazy smoke ring, watching my movements with idle curiosity. “Change of heart? Not filing for divorce today? Finally learned how the world works?”
“Yes,” my voice was soft. “I’ve learned.”
Keith scoffed.
“Took you long enough.” He stretched, the picture of indolence, and began pulling on his clothes. “In our circles, the marriage contract is just the opening act. Once the performance is over, everyone finds their own…entertainment. It’s better you accept it. Saves us the tedious drama”
I turned, silently watching him button his shirt.
“You really aren’t coming back tonight?” I asked.
“Nope.” He buckled his belt, glancing at me. “Why? Is today some special occasion?”
I shook my head. “Just asking.”
“Oh, right,” he paused at the doorway. “We’re running low on condoms. Could you pick some up when you get a chance?”
“Sure.”
The door clicked shut.
I stood by the window a moment longer, watching his headlights cut through the night, disappearing at the end of the tree-lined drive.
Then I picked up my phone and dialed a number.
“He’s gone,” I said. “You can start cleaning now.”
Five minutes later, three people in full hazmat suits entered the room.
They efficiently gathered the scattered condoms, wiped down every surface with a special disinfectant, and stripped all the bedding, sealing it in airtight bags.
The lead woman, a middle-aged professional, nodded to me. “Mrs. Hayes, it’s all handled. Rest assured, there will be no risk of infection left behind.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Especially this bedroom, make sure it’s thoroughly disinfected.”
“Understood.”
I saw the wedding photo on the wall, defaced with a lipstick ‘X’ by one of his lovers.
His affairs had cost me two pregnancies, leaving me unable to conceive again.
I calmly closed the bedroom door, turned, and walked downstairs.
On the living room coffee table sat a cake box.
I picked up the complimentary candle, stuck it into the cake, and lit it.
Keith only remembered that today was his mistress’s birthday.
He forgot it was mine too.
The flame danced. I stared at it for a long time, then blew it out.
I had planned to ask for a divorce, but now, I didn’t want to.
I wanted all his assets, all his power.