Cheating Secret Game

SMAAAACK!! SMAAAACKKKK!! “You!!” “You disgusting w***e! How dare you lay your filthy hands on my husband?!” I hadn’t even had the chance to breathe. She kept slapping my face. Still tired from the last night’s overtime, my head pounding and my eyes barely open, I dragged myself into the office. I tapped my employee card, the familiar beep of the door sounding sharper than usual in the silence. I was a bit confused because I didn't see Ira at the reception desk. Usually, she arrived earlier than me. But I chose to ignore it, there was still some work I needed to finish today. Along the way to my desk, people were staring—more than usual. Their eyes lingered. Whispers buzzed behind my back like flies circling something rotten. But I was too tired, too numb to care. Then, an old lady came out of nowhere and slap may face. A slap. Then another. The sharp sting bloomed across my cheek like fire—and before I could even feel the pain, she screamed. "You crazy b***h!" she screaming again. I'm trying to see her face, I didn’t recognize her. Not her face. Not her voice. Nothing. But the hatred in her eyes told me this wasn’t random. This was personal. “Whoa! Wait… just wait a second…” I said, holding my burning cheek. My mind was spinning. I couldn’t even begin to process what was happening. The only thing I knew for sure— I needed to find out who this woman was. The one who slapped me. SMAAAACKKKKK!! SMAAACK!! THUD!! I collapsed to the floor as her foot struck my side. “Wait!!” I shouted in frustration. “JUST LISTEN TO ME!” I screamed, one arm wrapped around my stomach, the pain exploding with every breath I took. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t hear me. Or she simply didn’t care. Like a rabid animal, she kept kicking. Her foot came down on my legs, my ankles, my thighs. Over and over. “It hurts…” “It… hurts…” I whimpered. The words fell from my lips in trembling gasps. “Someone… help me…” “Please…” I turned to my colleagues, hoping—pleading—for someone to intervene. But they just stood there, silent witnesses to my shame, doing nothing. I begged them with my eyes, with every broken breath, for a shred of mercy. But none came. "Please..." I begged once again. Still no one came. No one lifted a finger. Whispers circled the room like smoke, but no one moved. My entire body ached. My head throbbed. And still, the only question echoing in my skull was: Why is she doing this? “It… hurts…” “Please… help…” “Somebody… please…” I kept begging. Whimpering through the pain. Again, no one came. No one moved. I had no idea what my coworkers were doing—what they were saying. All I knew was that they just… watched. As if I was nothing more than a scene in a show. Their morning entertainment. My head was pounding. My body throbbed with pain. And still—my mind couldn’t understand. Why? Why was this old lady attacking me like a monster? With the last ounce of strength I had, I kicked at her leg. A desperate, wild move— And it worked. She lost her balance and fell hard to the floor. Finally! This is my chance to fight back. “You filthy b***h! How dare you!” she screamed, rage twisting her face into something almost inhuman. Before I could react, she lunged again— Her hands tangled in my hair, yanking violently, pulling with everything she had. “WHO ARE YOU REALLY? WHY ARE YOU ATTACKING ME?!” I yelled. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I fought back like a madwoman. She wouldn’t stop. I might die if this continues. “Who the hell are you? Just barging in and attacking people randomly—you’re crazy!” I cursed at her. As I kept struggling, people finally tried to separate us. “Enough, Monica! Stop!!” Syifa shouted at me. Syifa and Dani grabbed both of my arms. “You should be yelling at her!” I snapped at Syifa. “She attacked me first! What have you all been doing? Huh? I almost passed out before you finally intervened! What have you all been doing this whole time?” I yelled at everyone. “You shameless slut!” the woman snarled at me. Gasping for breath, I tried to stay calm and observed her closely. She truly looked like a channel lady. Her clothes, accessories, shoes—all were from those high-end, famous brands. Why was this rich lady trying to attack me? I had never stolen anything. I didn't even have friends from her world—no one that rich, no one like her. “Okay, fine, say whatever you want. You’d better introduce yourself, Madam, because I really don’t know who you are.” I rubbed my aching head. Now, both of us were sitting face to face, surrounded by people who seemed terrified of the woman in front of me. “Don’t pretend you don’t know, I’m the legitimate wife of Rizal,” the woman replied sarcastically. She looked at me as if I were some kind of filth. I listened to her answer while searching for my water bottle in my bag. All this tension was making me thirsty. “Rizal, who, Madam? Could you clarify his position? Rizal is a very common name, and I wouldn’t know how many Rizals work at this company,” I replied to her after taking a gulp of water. My lips hurt even more after drinking. Ugh! “Stop pretending, you know very well who Rizal is—the marketing manager.” I stared at the woman, puzzled. “Then, what’s your problem with me?” I asked. Of course I'm so confused. “I’m from the accounting department. I’ve never worked under your husband, Madam,” I continued to explain. “Tch...” “Stop pretending! I know you’re my husband’s mistress!” the woman snapped. “What? Mistress? I’m having an affair with that old, chubby man? This is ridiculous!” I thought, feeling utterly frustrated to be accused like this. “It seems you’re mistaken, Madam. You might have the wrong person. You assumed that Monica, the mistress of your husband, is me. I’ve never had an affair with your husband,” I replied, my frustration rising. My anger was reaching its peak now. SMAAAACKKKK!! This woman is completely insane. Instead of an answer, I received another slap. SMACKKKK!! Of course, this time, I slapped her back. I wasn’t going to take her accusations lying down! I haven’t had an affair with Rizal. "Are you still not going to confess? I have a proof!"