Michelle's pov 

By the time I reached Golden Cove's lobby, I was already second-guessing myself. This could easily be Beatrice pulling a prank, but every time my resolve threatened to dissolve into emptiness 

Then I reminded myself yet again that I was not here because I took my annoying mother-in-law's words to heart.

I've had a suspicion for months now. 

Maybe even years. 

He'd changed.

Not overnight, it happened gradually... Like water trickling out of a broken vessel. 

He stopped kissing me good morning and stopped asking how my night went. There was no more breakfast in bed. 

Yeah, it started from the little things.

Then slowly, it was him forgetting my big occasions, raising his voice at me, coming back home from the office while pretending he didn't smell like booze, women's perfume, and bad decisions.

We had several conversations–some of them arguments–I told him I wanted to go back to the time when he loved me and showed it.

I missed the man that I met working afternoon shifts at the coffee shop when I was eighteen.

He showed up every day by eleven, he'd make the same order–black coffee and a chocolate muffin-his eyes never left me while he was there, and I'd often come over to see his cup at least still half full. His subtle way of telling me that he was coming here for more than just the coffee.

One sunny afternoon I got courageous and I did something out of character. I wrote my number on a tissue, pressed my lips on it, and shyly handed it over to him along with his coffee. 

He finished his coffee that day. 

I was worried, thinking things would get awkward between us all or he would never show up again. He was well-groomed and put together but anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that there was a huge age gap between us, how big it was was what I didn't know.

He didn't show up for a week afterward. 

That week was torture, I'd lift my head every time the bell at the entrance dinged. My heart was sleeping with hope, only for it to come crashing down when it was just another random customer.

Soon my expectation began to wane, and I was beginning to accept that maybe I had ruined a good thing before it could even start. 

That night, I was getting ready for bed and also to put my one-sided feelings to rest. 

That was when I got his text at 10:00 

'You up?"

Those two words changed the trajectory of my life. 

Regular texts with him became the highlight of every day for me, it made endless shifts bearable, even the bruises I got from my drunk Dad hardly hurt that much when his name lit up my phone.

We got to talking more intimately after a while.

He was going to be forty in a month or so.

He asked if that bothered me.

I'll admit, at first it did, but he always told me that I was so mature for my age and I wasn't like other reckless 18-year-olds. It made me feel good, like I was no longer the little girl who was getting beaten down and humiliated every day by her own father. 

Our relationship progressed and after going through some struggles he popped the question and I was more than happy to say yes. 

I lived like a princess in the first years of our marriage, waited on hand and foot. Back then when the results came back negative, he'd book me a vacation to unwind. If I had a headache he would leave his million-dollar company just to remain by my side and cuddle me all day. He showed me off like a trophy, a prize he was happy and lucky to win.

Back then even if his mom disapproved of me she never tried anything funny. 

Now things were clearly different.

And I wanted to know why.

Why did he never look at me with the same loving affection as he used to do in the past why was I suddenly no longer welcome? Why were all those grandiose acts of love in the past? 

And when I reached room 102 I saw it.

Or rather on the carpeted hallway.

Elliot, my husband, my first and only love had his hand intimately wrapped around another woman's waist. He whispered something in her ear, and she laughed way too loudly, leaning towards him with a broad smile. When they got closer I noticed that the woman was not a stranger, beyond the hair extensions, makeup up and designer clothes I recognized her.

Natasha Grey

A college dropout who was my cleaner a couple of months back, I paid her extra because she was friendly and bubbly. I didn't have any friends anymore because none of them supported my relationship with Elliot so I cut them off. 

Maybe I should have listened.

Natasha had quit a few weeks back, told me that she was going back to college. But from the looks of things she had already graduated from the uni of home wrecking.

They were so absorbed in each other that they didn't even notice me until we were about 10 ft apart, that was when Natasha saw me, she didn't look ashamed. Not one bit, in fact she cozied herself closer to my husband, a triumphant smirk plastered on her face.

How could they?! 

"Michelle?" Elliot called out confusion clouding his tone."What are you doing here?"

"Is that all you have to say to me?" I said as the tears started pouring down my face, there he stood with an apology not even an explanation. Just asking that ridiculous question like I was the one who had been caught cheating. 

The anger didn't allow me to think I marched over to him and slapped him right across the face. 

"B*sterd!" I hissed then turned to leave rushing into the empty elevator before I could completely shatter.

Michelle's pov 

"I hope you don't get offended by this, but I thought he was your father... Not your husband... At least he looks old enough to be..."

I chuckled, "He's actually older than my father,"

This was a conversation I've had more times than I've cared to count, the experience was always more or less the same. There would always be a noticeable shift in the air, their faces contorted with more questions that were looking for the most appropriate ways to leave their lips, and a thickening awkwardness that usually folded up the interaction.

But when I talked with Natasha, she didn't judge me. Instead, she approached it with the understanding that I had salt from my friends before cutting them off. 

Now as I'm crying out my heart, all the pieces are falling into place. 

She had come to understand me.

But not in the way I hoped. 

She went after Elliot.

And he actually took her as his lover. 

My mind was scrambled with different questions. How long have they been having an affair? Why would he do this to me? After 5 years of love and dedication was this water deserved? 

I recalled the look on his face, the absence of any semblance of guilt or remorse.

This was the catalyst to my rage. 

I decided that I wasn't going to cry myself to sleep tonight. 

At least not in the way Elliot would be expecting.

With my phone in hand, I dial the number that I hadn't contacted directly in years.

"Michelle.." his deep voice caressed my name in such a way that it left me breathless for a moment or two. I gathered myself, 30 in my voice to give a response; '"I need you tonight"

"I'll be there," that was it, no questions no begging, all he needed was to hear the urgency in my voice and he was coming. I blinked and recognized his red sports car in Golden Cove's parking lot. I had only been waiting for about 5 minutes or so, when he stepped out of the car I saw him, standing taller than his father. His hair an aesthetic mess, his suit ruffled, instead of his measured strides he walked so quickly his feet hardly had time to touch the ground before leaving it once again. 

He reached me, and a flush of subconsciousness ran across my entire being. Here he was standing before me as effortlessly perfect as always without even trying while I looked like I had been run over. My hair was in its easy-to-go-messy bun, worn-out clothes sticky with sweat and tears and I'd lost weight recently too.

I thought he'd be disgusted, couldn't even blame him if he was. 

Instead, he pulled aside a fallen strand of hair from the side of my face, his eyes burning with pure fury. 

"Did that b*stard do this to you?"

I chuckled derisively even though there was nothing funny to be chuckling about, or maybe I was wrong about that just like how I was wrong about many other things. 

There was a big joke that deserved to be laughed at. 

ME 

I pushed everyone away to be with a man who was twice my age, thinking he was mature and would love me in a way a new guy around my own age could, I assumed that he was loving and mature. 

But once he knew that he had captured me, that my whole world now revolved around him and nobody else he probably got bored.

That's why he's been creating this gap between us, a line that couldn't be crossed. 

That was why he didn't mind his mother humiliating me. 

Why would he? I was mainly a remnant of a past he was probably dying to forget all about. 

And now with nobody to call, the only person I could lean on was my Stepson.

Hayden Winter.

I kept laughing until it turned into heated he has again, he embraced me, his huge arms enveloping me into his warmth and musky cologne. He let me cry until I was tired and red-eyed. Then it took me to his car and drove to his Villa on the outskirts of the city.

He pressured me into taking a bath, saying I'd feel better afterwards. I resisted for a bit, then stepped under the shower of his spare bedroom, letting the rushing water take care of the grime, sweat, and tears. 

I stepped out, admittingly feeling physically lighter with a towel wrapped up to my chest. My relief quickly came to an abrupt pause when I remembered that I had no clothes to wear, I was thinking about that when a knock came on the door, followed by Hayden's voice. 

"Hey, Michelle, are you out of the shower yet, I have something for you," 

My heart was beating so fast I was sure it was ready to explode inside my chest, it was one thing to call him in the heat of the moment and now that I had cooled down I was beginning to have second thoughts. Maybe this was a bad idea? 

Hayden and Elliot never saw eye to eye, he was also one of the biggest opponents against our marriage. 

I don't even know what possessed me to call him, perhaps it was the desperation rather than despair that made me dial his number but now that I had come to down I was beginning to rethink my decision.

"Come in..."

No matter what he helped me out when there was no one else to turn to so I should at least give him the benefit of the doubt for now. 

He came in, his eyes finding me in an instant and a smile warming up his face. He had a large black shirt draped across his arm.

"Here, this is one of my smaller shirts,"

Hayden's pov 

Calm down. Calm down...

She's here.

She's here in my Villa. 

Is this a dream? If so I'd like to sleep for a little more. I sizzle coming from the frypan was merely background noise compared to the chaos in my head. 

There was a blend of emotions battling for dominance in my mind; anger, excitement, worry, curiosity, and more. Some of them were directed at her and the rest at my sperm donor. 

He never even deserved someone like her.

Then he dared to go around sleeping.

I was at war with myself every day, resisting the urge to just grab my car keys and drive over to take her from right under his nose. His affairs were more or less like an open secret, and Golden Cove was his usual spot for his disgusting extramarital affairs.

I thought she already knew about it, and just nipped it in the corner of her mind without thinking about it 

I wouldn't be surprised if he managed to gaslight her into thinking it was her fault he was cheating and to accept it.

"Hayden?" A tingle ran down my back hearing my name from her plump lips, her voice ever calming like light ocean waves.

I mentally cemented myself to be unmoved when I turned around and almost immediately failed. I'd given her one of my smaller shirts that stopped fitting right after I hit the gym. It inhaled her inside, stopping at her hips. I'd also given her some briefs I'd ordered online that ended up arriving in the wrong smaller size.

I was pissed off back then but now I'm almost grateful for their callous mistake.

I thought the day she'd wear my shirt would remain in my shirt would only remain in my dreams... no, Hayden, bad Hayden! Not now... that's not what she needs right now.

"Take a seat,"  I said gesturing to the bar stool placed in front of the kitchen Island.

It was physically painful to watch her move, each motion was unbearably slow and while they were brief, she'd pause as well. I'm sure she wasn't even aware that she was doing it, my body had probably grown accustomed to that after all the stress Elliot put it through.

If I didn't need to be here right now I would have driven back to Golden Cove and done something that would have landed me in a mugshot tomorrow.

"Is there something on my face?" The question shot at me unexpectedly, my face warmed up and I snapped my attention back to the noodles I was cooking.

"No, why would there be?"

Should I tell her that she's lost weight? No, maybe that would be body shaming... What if I just casually say it? 

I ended up saying nothing, I served her a helping of the stir-fry instant ramen with vegetables and sunny side egg and she gawked at me like I just found the final clue to solving world hunger.

"This is too much..." She said her tone wrapped in embarrassment, "I don't deserve all this..."

I never knew that I could feel such an intense mixture of rage and sadness at the same time.

She deserved the world and yet looks like she was about to break down over instant ramen. 

So much hard to changed about her since the first time I met her. 

Too much.

I can't forget the way her eyes sparkled like they had stolen the stars and hidden them behind those hazel orbs. Back then she was plump and skipped about with reckless abandon.

From the moment I saw her, I knew she didn't belong with a scheming wretch like Elliot.

Elliot had invited me to join them for dinner at his home, normally it was hard for me to ingest food knowing that his face was going to be at the other side of the table. But we had some business to discuss that day, and he hadn't stopped talking about his new catch for weeks. 

It made my stomach twist just thinking about it. 

There are very few things in this world that are more discomforting than knowing your father's 'girlfriend' was around the same age as you, pure, undiluted revulsion would mix up in my stomach just watching him mess around with them. 

That night, she was the one who answered the doorbell. 

I was doom scrolling through my phone, when her voice thrown up an octave entered my ears.

It remains the most musical thing I have heard to date.

"Hayden, right?"

I couldn't speak for 10 solid seconds when I saw her, time slowed down and my phone nearly slipped from my fingers. 

Then everything was bleak and dark again when my father showed up from behind, gingerly wrapping his hand like a snake across her waist. I watched it as my gaze sent invisible lasers at his spiteful touch.

"Welcome, Son," he said in that grating voice of his, squeezing her even tighter. My knuckles formed as I subconsciously knew what he was doing, he was drawing a line while showcasing a fresh catch. 

I never had any problem with getting women, in fact the way the ones falling out of my feet even when I lacked interest. 

Despite being partially aware of that, Elliot had this one-sided competition going on for years. Showing me that at his big age, he was able to get girls around mine, he was so proud of himself that I'd shifted between pity and disgust just looking at him.

But that's night I experienced something with Michelle, it was utterly different from the revulsion I was used to, no it was the complete opposite. 

I was on edge for the entire dinner, and when I went to my apartment that I lived in at the time I tried to push her away from my mind and also the anger that came from thinking about her in my father's arms.