The Green-Eyed Monster
750 Words
I’ve always been the embodiment of control.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
But tonight—pulling into the long, winding driveway, headlights slicing through dusk—I felt something I didn’t recognize right away.
Jealousy.
It curled low and sharp in my gut the moment I saw them—Francis… with another woman.
Jessica.
She stepped from the shadows with a confidence that made my blood run hot. Her smile was slow, proprietary. And then her hand—too familiar, too comfortable—brushed his arm.
My breath caught.
Something twisted inside me, deep and raw. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. My heartbeat roared in my ears like a warning.
I didn’t know I could still feel like this. Not after everything.
I stepped out of the car, my heels sharp against the gravel, every step louder than I intended.
I didn’t look away from them.
Couldn’t.
---
“Francis.” My voice came out colder than I meant. Or maybe not.
They both turned—his expression unreadable, hers still smug, like she knew exactly what I’d walked into.
“Marie,” Francis said, warm but cautious. His hand slipped from Jessica’s arm like it had touched fire.
I forced a smile. Bitter. Brittle. “Didn’t realize you two were... so friendly.”
Jessica was quick to speak, her voice light. “We were just catching up. Francis was telling me about the new security measures you put in place.”
I nodded, but the words barely registered. My pulse was a storm inside my chest.
“Well,” I said, my voice flat, “good to know you’re... collaborating.”
And I turned—heels striking the stone like punctuation—and walked away before either of them could respond.
---
The door slammed behind me, echoing like a gunshot.
I pressed my back to it, eyes closed, trying to breathe through the heat in my chest. What the hell was wrong with me?
Why did it hurt this much?
Jealousy had never been my vice. I didn’t have time for it—never allowed myself that kind of mess. But this—this was something else entirely.
Hours passed. I paced. I tried to distract myself. Nothing worked.
Finally, I grabbed my coat and stepped back outside. The moonlight was cold, casting everything in silver and shadow. I followed the path back toward the gatehouse, every step fueled by the ache I could no longer ignore.
Francis was still there.
Waiting.
He turned when he heard me. His face softened, but didn’t speak.
“I’m jealous,” I said, my voice cracking for the first time in longer than I could remember. “Of Jessica. Of how she touches you, looks at you, talks to you. I hate it. But it’s there. And I can’t pretend it’s not.”
He stepped closer. “I never meant to hurt you. Jessica was just—”
“I know,” I said quickly, meeting his eyes. “I *know*. But that’s not the point.”
I took a breath. “The point is... I felt something. And I don’t want to bury it again.”
He looked at me like he wanted to say something—needed to. And I could feel the shift between us, like something was finally breaking open.
But then—his phone buzzed.
Once.
Then again.
My stomach dropped.
He glanced at the screen, tension pulling tight across his jaw. He slipped the phone away, too quickly.
But I’d already seen the name.
**Jessica.**
My chest tightened. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Before he could answer—
A *clang*. Loud. Metallic.
From the east side of the estate.
No one should be there at this hour.
Francis’s expression changed instantly—sharp. Alert. “Stay here,” he said.
I stepped closer. “No.”
Another buzz.
A message.
He read it.
And went pale.
He turned the phone toward me.
> *You should’ve left things as they were. Now she knows. And we’re not finished.*
Below it—
A photo.
**Me.**
Standing outside the gatehouse.
With him.
Just minutes ago.
Whoever sent it... they’d been watching.
My voice came out a whisper. “Who sent this?”
He looked at me, fear in his eyes. Real. Human. Raw.
“I don’t know,” he said.
But I saw it.
He did.
And whatever he wasn’t saying?
Was coming for both of us.
- Writer
