The CEO who loved me first

The late afternoon chill of autumn seeped into Millie’s bones as she stepped out of her car, a paper bag of groceries pressed tightly to her chest. The maple trees lining their street shed their leaves in fiery bursts of red and gold, but she barely noticed the beauty anymore. It had been five years since she’d moved to this small suburban neighborhood with Josh, five years since she’d left behind her family, her friends, her entire world. And now? Every step felt heavier than the last. She adjusted the bag against her hip, the paper cutting into her palm as she climbed the porch steps. She hated that she had to dig into the little savings she’d managed to hide away to buy simple groceries. Josh had drained their joint account again, claiming some “deal” would finally put them ahead. It never did. His promises of success always turned to dust, while her sacrifices piled up like the unpaid bills tucked away in their kitchen drawer. Her stomach gave a small twist, that wave of nausea rolling over her again. It had been happening for days, leaving her weak and unsettled. Maybe it was stress, maybe exhaustion. She tried not to think about it as she fumbled for her keys, desperate to get inside and start dinner before Josh came home in one of his moods. The lock clicked, and she pushed open the door. At first, everything seemed normal—the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air, the half-folded laundry left on the couch. But then, a sound reached her ears. A laugh. Not Josh’s deep, mocking chuckle. No. This was feminine—light, musical, and achingly familiar. Millie froze, her pulse stuttering. The sound drifted again, floating down the hall that led straight to their bedroom. Her bedroom. She set the grocery bag down carefully on the counter, her fingers trembling as canned goods rattled against each other. For a long moment, she simply stood there, straining to listen, her mind racing through explanations she didn’t quite believe. Maybe it was the TV. Maybe Josh had invited someone over without telling her. Maybe— Millie walked closer to the bedroom, her body tense, her breaths shallow. The door was ajar. With trembling hands, she pressed her palm against the frame and leaned forward, just enough to see inside. Her eyes widened in horror. Sitting comfortably on her bed—their bed—was Paige. Paige, the woman who worked alongside Josh. The woman who had smiled at Millie every time she came over to drop a file…The woman who had visited their home and shared secrets as if she were a friend. The same Paige that Josh had always mocked, claimed to despise, and humiliated at every opportunity. Yet here she was now, stretched out across Millie’s sheets, laughing in a sultry tone Millie had never heard from her lips before. Gone were her glasses as well as her innocent façade. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, framing her face in waves of confidence. Her toenails, painted a glossy red, caught the lamplight as she flexed her foot playfully. And Josh—her husband—was kneeling beside the bed, his head bent low. Millie’s stomach twisted as she watched him hold Paige’s foot in his hands, his lips wrapping around her toes, his eyes locked on her face with a hunger that had long since vanished from their marriage. Paige bit down on her lower lip, her voice lowering to a breathy whisper. “I can’t take it anymore, babe… make love to me already.” On cue, Josh shifted, hovering over his coworker before pressing his mouth hungrily against hers. The wet, desperate sound of their kiss echoed in Millie’s ears, each second clawing deeper into her chest. When their lips finally parted, Paige laughed—a low, satisfied sound that made Millie’s skin crawl. “I’m sure Millie was never able to make you feel this good, huh?” she teased, her voice dripping with venom. Josh chuckled darkly, without hesitation. “You’re damn right,” he said, his hands already tugging down the straps of Paige’s dress. And then it happened. Paige’s gaze drifted upward, casual at first, before her eyes locked onto the shadow in the doorway. Her laughter died instantly. The color drained from her face. She pushed Josh away, fumbling to cover herself as her body stiffened in panic. “Oh my God… Millie…” she cried out, her voice trembling as she scrambled for words. “It’s not what you think.” Josh’s head snapped toward the doorway at the sound of Paige’s panicked voice. For a heartbeat, he looked frozen, like a guilty child caught red-handed. Then his eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting into a snarl as he jumped to his feet. “Millie!” he barked, his voice rough with anger instead of shame. “What the hell are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be at the center?” The words slammed into her chest harder than any slap. Every Friday evening, Millie volunteered at the homeless center. It was her little piece of light in an otherwise dim existence—serving warm meals, handing out blankets, listening to stories of those who had nothing. Josh always scoffed at it, called it a waste of time. Tonight, she didn’t go, not feeling too well because of her nausea… But now she realized what her usual absence had given him: the perfect opportunity to bring his coworker into their bed. Her throat burned with bile, but Millie said nothing. She simply stood there, gripping the doorframe, watching the two of them scramble like thieves caught in the act. Paige was already fumbling for her purse, tears streaking down her cheeks as she clutched it tight against her chest. She dared a glance at Millie, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Millie… it’s really not what you think. I’ll call you later and explain everything, alright? I love you.” Millie’s body went cold. I love you? The words rang hollow, obscene. Her so-called friend slipped past her, her perfume clinging to the air like poison. For a split second, Millie imagined reaching for the kitchen knife resting on the counter, imagined following Paige down the hall, dragging her back by the hair and silencing her forever. The image burned hot and sharp in her mind. But her body refused to move. She was frozen in place, a statue carved from grief and disbelief, her wide eyes locked on the man standing before her. Josh. Her husband. Her biggest mistake. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his chest still heaving from the encounter she had interrupted. His face twisted with irritation, not guilt. “You always ruin everything for me, Millie!” he shouted, his voice sharp enough to pierce through her haze. “s**t!” He grabbed the bedside lamp and hurled it against the wall. The glass shattered on impact, shards scattering across the hardwood floor like sparks. The crash echoed in the room, final and violent. Millie flinched, the sound snapping her out of her daze. Her pulse hammered in her ears, her breath uneven. She searched his face, desperate for a trace of the man she thought she had married, the man she had defended against her family, the man she had built her life around. But all she saw was rage and disdain, as if her very presence disgusted him. Her lips parted, but no words came. She simply stared, silent and hollow, as the walls of her world crumbled around her.