The Comeback of a Stad

AYRA Women have been taught to always swallow and take crap from their husbands, but my story begins with delivering a packed bomb to my husband in a style that magazines would describe as dressed to kill. A hot red dress hugged my body tightly, showing every curve. My hair was slicked into a clean, no-nonsense bun, and my bold heel clicked the tile beneath as I made my way to meet my husband, Chris. Chris and I were the epitome of a swoon-worthy couple as we had been together since we were teenagers. I was an actress with a good career and Chris was the son of the Yaldon family. He worked with their transportation subsidiary, climbing the ladder with the kind of ease that came with being born privileged. I clutched a brown document tightly as I walked down the hall of Pearson’s Hotel. The document I held like my life depended on were divorce papers. For the same man I once called my everything. Do I think I’m crazy? Oh, absolutely. Better to be crazy than easy. You see, I’ve been quiet, demure, and easy for too damn long. When the Yaldon family told me I needed to give up my “silly career” and join the family’s charity organization to help polish their public image, I agreed. All for him, and all I got in return was painful betrayal. I swiped the key card to the luxury hotel room and entered. Their voices floated through the air like poison. “Do you think she knows about us but pretends not to see it? "Because it’s classic Ayra to let you off,” Victoria purred, her green manicured nails dragging lazily down his bare chest like she’d done it a thousand times before. And you’d think she wasn't my sister with the way she touched him. I scoffed. Maybe I should sit back and enjoy this shitshow. Enjoy hearing what they say when they think I’m not there. “Ayra would never leave me. She’s in love with me—obsessed, even. I know her. She can’t bear the thought of separation; she hates change,” Chris spat arrogantly, like he held my soul in his hands. Well, he’s right about one thing. I hate change. But that was definitely about to change. “So, when are you going to tell her you want to get divorced and be with me?” she asked, all doe-eyed and innocent. Chris didn’t meet her eyes. He just let out a noncommittal grunt. “You’re telling her next month, right? You already got the documents. Just give them to the b***h to sign. You know I’m the right choice.” My heart stuttered. Next month? I gripped the papers in my hand tighter, the edges digging into my palm. I couldn’t feel them. All I felt was the sting behind my eyes and the weight in my chest. “Yeah, I’ll give them to her next month. Let’s not talk about her… Let’s not talk at all. I just want to feel,” he groaned. I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to be blindsided or one-upped by either of them. I slammed the door hard enough to break it out of its frame. Victoria's shriek pierced the air, she was looking at me like I was a ghost,while Chris looked pale. I stepped inside, slow and deliberate, and then I started clapping. “Wow,” I said, stepping into the room. “What a performance. Really. You both should win an award… for audacity.” I tossed the document onto the bed. “Why wait till next month when we could be divorced now?” Chris scrambled for his clothes while I casually took a seat by the bed stand, crossing my legs and staring at both offenders. “Ayra, how did you—” “How did I get in? Or how did I find out?” I cut him off. “Please, speak up or better yet, don’t. Hearing words from trash like you could give me a migraine.” Chris’s eyes widened. He had never seen this version of me. I’d always been the kind, quiet Ayra. “Ayra, I know you’re upset, but isn’t calling Chris a piece of trash too much?” Victoria had the audacity to say. “Shut up, you worthless, attention-seeking hoe. Wait your turn for the dragging and stop trying to steal someone else’s spotlight,” I snapped. “Enough already, Ayra. This isn’t like you. Let’s go home and talk about this,” Chris said, reaching for me. I flinched away from his touch before he could infect me with his self-conceited disease. “Chris, the only thing I want from you at this point is your signature on those papers. Done. Properly.” His jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth, eyes seething. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me… or of the Yaldons. If Olivia hears—” “I don’t give a damn what your b***h-ass aunt thinks or says. What’s so hard about signing the same divorce papers you were going to give me anyway? Think of it as Christmas coming early.” I smiled brightly, nodding at him to get on with it. “Fine. I’ll be here when you come crawling back,” he growled. Victoria’s eyes lit up. She had finally gotten what she wanted. Chris scrawled his signature and tossed the papers to me. “This is why I loved you… well, used to. So gentle. Now, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to continue your shameless whoring,” I said with a smile. I turned and walked away without sparing either of them a second glance. “She’s gone crazy. Has Ayra truly been possessed?” I heard Victoria whisper. “She’s going to regret this. She’ll regret leaving me,” Chris murmured darkly. ********* I looked at myself in the mirror, hair curled and loose around my shoulders. I looked different. I looked good. “You’re going to love my surprise tonight,” Brielle smirked wickedly. “Oh, I just know it’s going to be the worst thing ever. You’ve got that look…the look of mischief,” I groaned. “Please, you’ll thank me later. I can feel it.” We headed to an underground secret club. I had no idea how Brielle knew these places, and I didn’t ask. “s*x on the Beach, because this b***h is about to get laid!” Brielle winked at the bartender. I died a little inside. “You’re going to be the death of me one day.” “And you love me for it!” she said, cocky as ever. “Grab your drink while I take you to the main event of the night,” she said, scrunching her face into a mysterious expression. “Isn’t this dress with half my boobs out and barely covering my ass cheeks—event enough?” I raised a brow. “Ugh!,” Brielle gasped mockingly. “This basic ass fit? Keep up with the times, Ayra. Unleash the baddie in you!” I flipped my hair back, took the shot, and said, “Baddie mode activated.” We moved into a secluded part of the club. Open enough, but fewer people. And my eyes widened at what I saw. “Glorious, isn’t it?” Brielle said, eyes shining. “It’s… something. And is he wearing a cha—” “He’s collared. Is this your kind of thing? Oh, I knew you had some boss b***h energy in you,” she purred, egging me on.