Page 23 of The Other Woman

I didn’t like that she didn’t fight, didn’t engage me, even when I reached out to her. Her attitude always made me feel like shit as if she thought she was better than me. I used words to hurt her, and still, she never retaliated.

Not even when she had to send her kids to the home I shared with their father, she was never high conflict like I’d read of most jilted women being, and I could never understand it. I guess I’m beginning to see why now, though, but that can’t be right.

Surely, if he had been treating her the way he has been treating me lately, she would’ve filed for divorce a long time ago. But I never heard of him mistreating her. In fact, from everything I heard when everyone thought we were just work friends when he first started bringing me around, they were the ‘it’ couple before they had their first child.

I even heard how he used to fawn over her and was besotted; I think that’s the word one of them used since the first night they met. I rolled my eyes at that because if he was so besotted, he wouldn’t have fallen into my bed.

In those days, I used to pride myself on being better than her. I’d won, and she’d lost. But she just never gave me the satisfaction of being a sore loser. I realize that that’s why I keep stalking her pages. I need to see her bend or break, but instead, she seems to be living her best life.

She was glowing while I was losing my hair from stress and gaining weight from stress eating because of her asshole husband. My skin had broken out from all the fried foods I’ve been eating, and my anxiety, which I never had before, has been off the charts.

She had to have known, the bitch. Why didn’t she say anything from one woman to another? How could she let me fuck up my life like this so she could go off and have her happily ever after while I was left to deal with her leftovers that weren’t even that good?

Each time I tell myself to throw in the towel, which is usually right after he’s hit me, I talk myself out of it. If I walked away now, then I would have upended my life and lost everything for nothing. I thought by now, Doug and I would be married, and I’d be living the life they once shared.

A nice house in a wealthy neighborhood with friends that we hung out with every weekend when we weren’t going away, that is. We’d have kids someday down the line, and I’d keep my figure unlike her so he wouldn’t lose interest.

Instead, I’m stuck with an overweight slob whose farts make me not want to be in the same time zone, let alone the same house. Our home is a rental, while his ex-wife is living in a mansion that is twice the size of the home they once shared.

If I thought it would work, I would try my hand at going after her new husband because why not? But I know from the few times I’d seen him before they were even together that he hates me.

Just like her, he’s always acted like I don’t exist. I decided to comment using my assumed name and my heart beat so hard I thought I would pass out. I don’t know why I did it, but it felt as if I were part of the conversation.

No one knew it was me after all, and I was hoping it would pass, but I was surprised to see the comment disappear almost immediately. I stared down at the phone in shocked silence and felt a cold shiver run down my spine.

Why would she erase it? Did she know that it was me? I felt so stupid. Of course, she did. How did I not think of that? The same way I can see who’s on my page, she could have the same ability. The bitch must’ve been having a good laugh at my expense all this time because I visited her page at least twice a day, even when she was radio silent.

This just made me feel two feet tall and like a loser. Why didn’t she just block me if she knew? It’s obvious she wanted me to see how great her life is. Did she know what her husband is? Is that why she just walked away without a fight? That bitch.

No, there’s no way she’s this unaffected. They had been together for years; she had to feel something. She’s putting on an act for the world to see, but I know better. Even as I thought it, a little voice in my head mocked me.

After living with Doug, I can see why any woman with sense would want to get as far away from him as possible. He’d become someone else. I’ve tried talking to the few friends I had from before about the situation, but they all laughed at me.

Even my coworkers have something to say. Someone had seen him going into a fast-food place one day and took a picture, which they passed around the office. I didn’t know what they were whispering and laughing at until one of the bitches had the nerve to push the phone in my face and show me.

I was never so embarrassed in my life. They then turned their attention on me asking how things were going and if I was happy with what I got. I didn’t know until that day just how much they hated me. People treat women who have affairs like shit. I know that now. They are a bunch of judgmental assholes.

I left the bathroom on shaky legs, and of course, her post was all anyone would talk about since she still had a handful of friends here who had their heads up her ass. That was supposed to be me. I was supposed to inherit all of her and Doug’s friends.

They should be celebrating me. First our wedding, which ended up being nothing like I wanted, and then our first child together. He’d been respected here at one time, but now he was little more than a joke.

Some people were even whispering that I had destroyed his life. They seemed to think we were both getting what we deserved for cheating, but I didn’t sign up for this. Now, I can’t leave even if I wanted to, and I do.

He can cost me my freedom and so much more. How did I get here? I dread going home in the evenings because I never know what I’m going to find. I know that he, too, follows her, and if he sees that shit, he’s going to be up my ass. I’m still sore and bruised from his last tantrum.

I slinked back to my desk and put my head down for a second. I just needed to escape, to get away from reality for a bit. I was so tired and worn out. My home life was next-level hell, and there wasn’t much better since no one respected me, and they didn’t try to hide it. It’s gotten so bad that I eat lunch alone at my desk while the others hang out in the break room and talk about their lives.

I used to ride so high here. My man had a top-level position, and everyone knew he was mine. People respected me then. Or so I thought. But once he quit, they started showing their true colors, and I was the odd man out.

I must’ve been really tired because I slept the rest of the afternoon away and got called into the office because one of the nosy bitches reported me. I had to sit through another lecture about how my performance was lacking, but this time, it didn’t end like the last three meetings.

No one told me that I was working on the three-strikes rule. Did no one understand what my life was like? I tried explaining that I was tired and in pain. The bitch had the nerve to ask me for a doctor’s note, and when I didn’t have one, I was let go.

Just like that. Two years of hard work down the drain. I walked out of there in a daze after being escorted by security with a box of my own personal stuff in my hands. My coworkers applauded as I made the walk of shame, and I have never felt so much hate for a group of people. Heartless bastards.

This was her fault. She could’ve stopped this at any time and my life wouldn’t be the mess that it is right now. She had to have known what he was, and she let me throw away my life, my future, over her unwanted piece of shit, deadbeat husband. Him I hate most of all. And Jacob for giving her a better life than the one she had.

They’d made me a laughingstock among their friends, no doubt. I’m sure they were all talking behind my back, though none of them had mentioned Doug or me in any of their posts since the divorce. But I was sure they were still talking about me.

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