Chapter 2
From the very first day of our marriage, I chose to trust him.
I never questioned his work. But seeing that lipstick stain on his jacket and that box of condoms, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.
My mind started racing, consumed by wild suspicions.
The overthinking clearly impacted my work efficiency.
I asked my supervisor for a day off and went straight to ‘The Muse’ salon. After marrying Jake, I’d never once been to his workplace.
He never invited me to work events, either, so over time, I didn’t know any of his friends or colleagues.
After asking around, I finally found The Muse salon. It was on the fifth floor of a mall, taking up a huge space, entirely enclosed by transparent glass.
As soon as I stepped off the elevator, I saw The Muse’s prominent sign.
Through the glass doors, I spotted a short-haired girl with bright green hair, lounging at the reception desk, practically melting into a smile for Jake.
Jake flashed a wicked grin. He reached out and lightly brushed her hair with his fingers, and her smile widened even more.
Jake’s gaze swept over the short-haired girl’s body, and he reached out again, giving her waist a playful squeeze.
She didn’t pull away, instead, she pressed his hand into her waist, rubbing against it. The electricity between them was palpable.
I stood there, stunned. This was my husband’s normal work environment? My legs felt like concrete; I couldn’t move an inch.
Jake leaned in, whispered something into the green-haired girl’s ear, then turned and walked deeper into the salon.
I quickly pushed through the doors and followed his direction. I saw him disappear into a VIP room.
The green-haired girl looked at me, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes.
“Haircut or perm? Do you have a regular stylist?”
I shook my head. “No. Just find me anyone.”
The green-haired girl yelled inside, “Kevin! Client for you! Come wash her hair.”
A slender, somewhat effeminate guy responded, his hair dyed yellow. He smiled at me. “Right this way, beautiful.”
I followed him, passing by a mirror.
Seeing my own dreadful reflection and hearing him call me “beautiful,” I felt like their profession required a serious lack of conscience.
Kevin quickly washed my hair, then led me to a chair near the corner.
A white towel was draped over my face. I heard him ask, “So, beautiful, how do you want your hair cut?”
“Just… whatever,” I mumbled.
Kevin took the towel off, let my hair down, and started cutting.
He was quite talkative, chatting idly with me, which was perfect. It gave me a chance to pump him for information.
“How did you hear about our salon, beautiful?” he asked.
“A friend recommended it. She’s a client of… Tony. I don’t see Tony around, though?” I asked, feigning casualness.
Kevin scoffed, a hint of bitterness in his voice.
“Oh, our Tony? He’s far too busy. Not just anyone can see him. You need to have this.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in front of me, clearly indicating money.
“Oh?” I couldn’t help but ask, intrigued. “How much are we talking?”
Kevin looked at my face, confused, then seeing my serious expression, he dropped his smile.
He glanced around, then leaned in close, whispering, “Look, sis, you seem like an honest person. Just don’t get yourself mixed up in this mess.”