The Sweet wife Snapped First

“Ring ring—!”

The alarm blared. I rolled over, yanked it into the covers, and kicked the person next to me.

“Jim, get up!”

Jim Jackson—my husband of three years—is currently the director of neurology at my dad’s private hospital. As for me? I write romance novels when I’m bored out of my mind most of the time. Somehow, I’ve even managed to make a name for myself.

So yeah, in case you haven’t figured it out, I’m your classic housewife.

Correction: a blissfully spoiled little woman, pampered by her man.

“Sleep a bit more. I’ll make breakfast. Just reheat it when you wake up,”

Jim got out of bed smoothly, dropped a kiss on my forehead, and just like always, that fresh scent of his made me hug him tight, clinging to his waist like a lazy cat, rubbing my head against his thigh.

I always did this. He never minded. This was just…us. It was our love language.

“Babe, stay with me a little longer,” I murmured, all soft and coy.

Jim smiled man, that face of his, all clean lines and soft sunlight, was practically blinding. He wasn’t movie-star handsome, but he had that fresh, easy-going look that made people instantly comfortable.

“Be good. Don’t mess around. I’ve got surgery this morning. You sleep in.”

Jim always spoke so gently. Three years of marriage, and I’d never once heard him raise his voice at me. That’s why I always thought I’d hit the jackpot with this marriage—my friends were all green with envy.

“Okay,” I replied sweetly, curling back under the covers like a content little burrito.

Jim got up, freshened up, and went to the kitchen. The smell of breakfast drifted in, making me smile. I swear, I felt like a damn princess in a fairy tale.

After cooking, Jim lovingly left the food in the pot, took a few quick bites himself, and left for work.

Me? I went straight back to sleep. Waking up before ten had basically been banned from my post-marriage lifestyle.

Time crawled from seven to eight. Suddenly, a shrill ringtone pierced the air. I groaned, picked up the phone, and without even looking at the caller ID, I snapped:

“Whoever the hell you are, calling this early—go die. Say what you want to say, or shut up!”

“Jeez, Linda! It’s already eight! You still in bed? Doesn’t your Jim need breakfast or something?”

“I haven’t cooked a single breakfast since we got married. Don’t you know? Jim always makes it for me.”

The moment I mentioned Jim, my voice softened instinctively. I rubbed my bleary eyes and glanced at the screen—oh, it was Kristy Carolina, my bestie. No wonder she didn’t get blasted into the next week.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re the happiest wife alive. Got yourself a dream husband. Even managed to stall having kids for three whole years. But could you maybe stop flaunting your fairy-tale life right now? Pack up and get down here—we’re waiting outside your building. Mary’s husband cheated, and we’re going in. You’re a novelist, right? Think of this as real-life research. You in or not?”

I practically flew out of bed. Like someone had injected rocket fuel into my veins.

Alright, I admit it—I’m a bit heartless sometimes. But Mary’s one of us. One of my girls.

And in today’s world, scumbag men are everywhere. I can’t control the whole world, but I am sure as hell won’t stand by and watch my sisters suffer.

“Hold on! I’m coming down now!”

No breakfast. Just threw on some clothes, raked a comb through my hair twice, and ran out in flat shoes.

Kristy and the rest were already in the car. Mary’s red, swollen eyes made my blood boil.

“That bastard Manny! Someone needs to teach him a lesson. Mary, leave it to us!”

“Exactly! Married and still sneaking around? Trash behavior!”

With Kristy and I swearing up a storm, we stormed straight toward Haitian Hotel.

I stuck to the back, holding Mary up worried she might collapse. Kristy and the others were already charging toward the elevator like they were storming a battlefield.

That’s when I saw it.

By the window.

My husband—Jim—smiling tenderly. And the woman next to him? Wiping the corner of his mouth with a tissue, all gentle and sweet.

The way they looked at each other. No one would believe they weren’t a couple.

BOOM.

A thunderbolt straight to the soul. My whole world? Charred to a crisp.