Page 12 of The Anniversary Betrayal
“Kingston,” she said, her voice sharp with pain, “tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”
But silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, then dropped his gaze.
“Oh my God…” Ashley’s hand flew to her mouth as tears burned hot in her eyes. “It’s true. All of it.”
“Ashley,” he started, stepping closer, “please—”
“Don’t.” Her voice cracked like glass. “Don’t you dare say my name like you still have the right.” She rose to her feet, the phone falling onto the bed between them. “How long?”
He hesitated. That was answer enough.
“How long?” she demanded, her chest heaving.
“Two months,” he admitted hoarsely. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. I never—God, Ashley, I never meant for it to go this far.”
The words sliced through her. Two months. While she’d been making his coffee in the morning, folding his shirts, tucking their children into bed, he’d been giving pieces of himself to someone else. Her tears fell freely now, but her voice was sharp, trembling with rage and grief.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? To us? You stood beside me on our anniversary, looked me in the eyes and you were sleeping with her.”
His face crumpled, guilt etched into every line. “I made a mistake. The worst mistake of my life. I thought I had it under control, but I—”
“You thought you had it under control?” She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Kingston, this isn’t a misplaced file or a forgotten appointment. This is our marriage. Our family. You tore it apart with your lies.”
He stepped closer, desperation raw in his voice. “Ashley, please, I love you. I never stopped loving you. It was weakness, a moment—”
“Don’t you dare call months of sneaking around a moment!” Her voice rose, shaking with fury. “You made a choice. Every text, every touch, every time you came home and lied straight to my face, it was a choice!”
Kingston flinched like her words were blows. His hands shook at his sides, his lips parted but unable to form the right words. For once, the man who always had an answer, always carried control, stood helpless.
Ashley pressed her fists against her chest, as though trying to hold herself together while everything inside her broke. “Do you know what it feels like to be made a fool of? To love someone so completely, only to find out they were giving themselves away to someone else behind your back?”
His eyes glistened, his own tears threatening. “I hate myself for this. You have to believe me. I didn’t want to hurt you, Ashley. I can’t even explain why it happened, but I swear, I wish I could take it all back.”
Her tears slowed, but the devastation on her face was unrelenting. “You can’t take it back. You can’t un-sleep with her. You can’t erase the lies. You can’t fix the way you’ve shattered me.”
The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the ragged breaths of two people drowning in the ruins of what they once had. Finally, Ashley drew in a sharp, shuddering breath. Her voice was quiet now, but it carried more weight than any scream could have.
“Get out.”
Kingston’s head jerked up, his eyes wide with panic. “Ashley—”
“I said get out.” Her tone was final, unyielding. “I can’t look at you right now. I can’t sleep next to you, I can’t breathe the same air. You chose her. So tonight, you don’t get to choose me.”
It was as though she’d stabbed him straight through the chest. His shoulders slumped, his face drained of color. For a moment, he looked like a man stripped of everything he thought he knew.
Tears finally broke free, sliding down his face as he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
Ashley turned away, her arms wrapped around herself. “Sorry won’t fix this. Just go.”
The sound of him gathering his things was quiet, almost reverent, like he was moving through a funeral. Maybe he was. When the door clicked shut behind him, Ashley collapsed onto the floor, her sobs echoing through the house and for the first time in years, Kingston slept somewhere that wasn’t by his wife’s side.
Chapter Eleven
The slam of the door behind him felt like a verdict. Kingston stood in the driveway, the cool night air biting against his skin. The house, their house loomed behind him, glowing faintly with the warm light from the bedroom windows. The same windows where, for a decade, Ashley had waved him off in the mornings, or sat reading bedtime stories to their kids at night.
Now, he wasn’t welcome inside. His chest caved in as the weight of it all crashed down. He pressed a hand against his face, dragging it down slowly, his fingers trembling.
What have I done?
