My Husband Fed His Mistress While I Starved

As I lay on the side of the road, unable to move after the accident, Bruce Wilson turned his back and walked off with Nalani Warren.

"I already called an ambulance for her. Let's go celebrate your birthday," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

When the ambulance took me to the hospital and the staff needed a family member's signature, I called Bruce repeatedly, but all I got was ringing silence.

After my surgery, I stumbled across Nalani's Facebook update: "Bruce is the world's greatest. He surprised me with a trip to Paris for Fashion Week..."

The photo attached showed Bruce beaming at the camera, his eyes radiating warmth.

I didn't bother confronting him; instead, I calmly switched off my phone and concentrated on my recovery. Soon after I left the hospital, Bruce was desperately trying to track me down.

---

On the day I was discharged, Bruce called me for the first time.

He flatly ordered, "Raquel, pick us up at the airport. Nalani and me."

I glanced at my leg, encased in a cast, and replied in a steady voice, "I can't."

Bruce instantly snapped, "Raquel, cut the excuses. When we got married, you promised..."

I interrupted, irked by his assumptions.

"I'm at the hospital. I physically can't pick you up," I stated plainly.

Bruce paused, his indignation fading as he seemed to remember the accident.

I skipped the explanations and asked coolly if he needed anything else.

Bruce hesitated, "You were hospitalized that long after the accident? I thought it was just a minor thing."

Occupied with packing, I casually replied, "Yeah, but it's all good."

"If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up. Got to pack my stuff." After I ended the call, I didn't waste a moment worrying about Bruce's reaction.

Struggling a bit, I carried my things downstairs, waited a while for a cab, and finally headed home.

Opening the door, I found Bruce softly tending to Nalani's leg, fussing over an invisible injury.

Even with perfect vision, I couldn't spot any wound there.

Nalani turned to me and quickly jumped up, looking awkward.

"Raquel, I just... I just had a little slip. I'll be out in a jiffy, hope you don't mind."

Bruce, noting her standing, shot me a disapproving look and then gently reassured Nalani, "Your foot's scraped and bleeding. I won't be comfortable unless you stay here!"

"You gave your word. Don't change it now, you little rascal."

A shy blush colored Nalani's cheeks, but she anxiously said, "But Raquel's hurt too. Bruce, you can't take care of everyone."

Disregarding me, Bruce continued to comfort her, "It's different. She's tough; you're delicate—every little thing matters."

Nalani seemed to be contemplating her choices.

Bruce glared at me, his tone accusatory. "Raquel, you're not going to make a fuss, right? Nalani's hurt and it's just a couple of days."

I kept silent as Nalani seemed poised to pin all blame on me.

But unlike before, when her theatrics made me lose my cool, I was now indifferent.

"Stay as long as you want, I’m unbothered," I replied, casual as ever.

Nalani's eyes briefly registered surprise and dissatisfaction.

She seemed let down that she hadn't stirred a fight between Bruce and me.

What she didn't get was my indifference to Bruce's escapades, and whether she stayed or not made no difference.

This house was once our private haven.

Now, it was simply temporary shelter.

Once my leg healed, I planned to move out.

Ignoring Nalani’s impending confrontation, I walked into the bedroom and closed the door.