1 At our high school reunion, my wife excused herself, claiming she had to step out for a quick errand. I waited three hours, but she never returned. Just as I was about to go look for her, I caught the sound of her voice near the venue’s exit, talking to her best friend, Amy. "Tristan is getting married tomorrow," my wife said, her voice laced with a breathless intensity. "I want to spend tonight wild with him. I don't want to live the rest of my life with any regrets." "Make sure you keep my cover," she added. Amy sighed. "Are you really still that obsessed with him? Is Tristan really that special?" My wife let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Tristan isn't as gentle or sweet as Hugh, but he's a beast in bed. He gives me a thrill Hugh never could." My mind went entirely blank. I quietly slipped back into the venue. A few minutes after I sat down, my wife walked back in, holding Amy’s arm with an innocent, bright smile. "Babe," she said, leaning down to kiss my cheek. "Amy and I have so much catching up to do. I'm going to stay at her place tonight." "Remember to pick me up tomorrow morning, okay?" The harsh fluorescent lights of the private room made my eyes sting. I stared at her, unable to speak. When she had left earlier, she was wearing a lavender knit sweater that elegantly exposed her collarbones. Now, she was wearing a high-collared white button-up shirt, buttoned all the way to the top. My chest felt incredibly tight. I forced out a strained nod. "The room is a bit stuffy," I muttered, pushing myself up. "I'm going to step out for some fresh air." The biting night air rushed down my throat as I leaned against the brick wall outside, drawing in deep, ragged breaths. My hand instinctively reached into my pocket for a pack of cigarettes, only to find it empty. I had quit smoking three years ago because Madeline hated the smell. When I finally walked back toward the room, the door was slightly ajar. Through the narrow gap, I could see the chaos inside. Madeline was sitting next to a man, her cheeks flushed red from the alcohol, her eyes hazy. She was leaning heavily against his shoulder, and the man was gently stroking her back. That man was Tristan. "What took you so long, Tristan?" one of our former classmates teased, raising a glass. "Did some pretty girl hold you up?" Tristan let out a low chuckle, casting a long, deliberate look at Madeline. "Yeah, you could say a little wildcat kept me busy." Their eyes locked in a heated, silent exchange. Tristan whispered something in her ear, making Madeline bite her lip and smile. The rest of the room didn't seem surprised at all. One of our old classmates, his face bright red and his speech slurred, let out a dramatic sigh. "Man, back in high school, we all thought you two would end up married. Who knew Tristan would transfer, and Madeline would end up with the new transfer kid, Hugh?" "Honestly, you two were always the perfect match. Hugh never really fit in with us." Another drunk classmate chimed in. "Come on, Tristan, level with us. Those three hours Madeline ran off tonight, she was with you, wasn't she?" Madeline held up her wine glass, her skin flushed. The room was warm, and she casually unbuttoned the top of her collar. I saw the dark, dark red marks staining her pale throat. Hickeys. She laughed, completely unbothered. "Yeah, I was with Tristan. What about it?" Our former class president, Brody, burst into laughter. "We knew it! That's why we kept dragging Hugh into drinking games to keep him distracted. We didn't expect you to have Amy cover for you too." Their laughter echoed through the hallway, ringing in my ears. I stared at the group through the crack in the door, barely recognizing the people I had called friends. "Hugh only hangs around us because his family has money," someone sneered. "He looks down on us anyway. Of course we're going to help you cover this up!" Just last week, that same classmate had been pleading with me over dinner, begging for a meeting with my father to secure a supply contract for his struggling business. Now, he spoke of me with nothing but contempt. The drinking games continued inside, and Madeline lost a round. The group began chanting, demanding she do something daring as a penalty. Madeline rested her chin on her hand, thinking for a moment before snapping her fingers. "I've got it!" "Tristan and I will sleep together tonight, right under Hugh's nose. How's that for a thrill?" Amy nudged her nervously. "Hugh has been gone for a while. He could walk back in any second. Be careful." Madeline rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with disdain. "Please. Hugh is an idiot. He's incredibly easy to fool." 2 I pushed the door open, and the rowdy laughter in the room instantly died. Madeline quickly put on a bright, seamless smile, grasping Amy’s hand. "Amy and I haven't seen each other in nearly eight years, Hugh. We're moving to New York in the fall, so we won't get many chances to hang out. I really want to spend tonight with her." Seeing my silence, Amy offered a tight laugh. "Can't bear to let her go for one night, Hugh? Don't be so possessive. Just because she married into your wealthy family doesn't mean she has to give up her friends." Madeline’s expression turned cold and defensive. "Hugh, when you proposed, you swore you'd never suffocate me. Now I just want to spend one night with my friend, and you're acting like this? I married you, Hugh. I didn't sell myself to you." The classmates in the room shifted uncomfortably, casting disapproving glances at me. I picked up a stray glass of whiskey from the table and downed it in one swallow. The burn tore down my throat, leaving my voice hoarse. "I didn't say you couldn't go. Have fun." Madeline's eyes lit up. She stepped over and pressed a brief, sweet kiss to my cheek. "You're the best, babe." As her lips brushed my skin, a wave of cheap cologne and stale tobacco washed over me. An overwhelming wave of nausea hit my stomach. I pushed her away, leaning over the trash can in the corner, dry-heaving violently. The music in the room seemed to halt. Madeline’s face twisted in anger. "Hugh, what is your problem?!" Brody stepped forward, trying to ease the tension. "Are you okay, Hugh? Did you have too much to drink?" I forced down the sickness rising in my chest, catching the nervous, calculating look in Brody's eyes. "I'm fine. Just drank too much on an empty stomach. I need to head back." Madeline crossed her arms, waiting for me to apologize and coax her like I always did whenever she threw a tantrum. But this time, I remained silent. I had no intention of apologizing to the woman who had just bragged about cheating on me. Brody quickly tried to redirect the room's attention. "Alright, let's keep the night going! Tonight isn't just a reunion, it's also a bachelor party for Tristan. He's tying the knot tomorrow." "Hugh, you and Tristan missed each other by a hair back in high school. You should officially meet." Tristan stepped forward, extending a hand toward me. "I transferred out in a rush back then, so I never got to meet the guy who took my desk. It's been ten years, but it's good to finally meet you. I'm Tristan." 3 On his ring finger was a simple red string band. I had seen an identical red string ring tucked away in the back of Madeline's jewelry box a year ago. When I asked about it, she had laughed it off, calling it a cheap high school souvenir. I looked at his face. Tristan’s name had been an omnipresent shadow throughout my high school years. Twelve years ago, my father’s job relocation forced me to transfer to Brightwood Academy. My very first day there was the exact day Tristan transferred out. I was assigned his old desk, and my name took his place at the top of the academic leaderboard. Whenever I aced an exam, the teacher would sigh and say, "If Tristan were still here, you two would be tied for first." When I won the state track championship, the coach had patted my shoulder and mused, "If Tristan were running, it would have been a real battle." Even during classroom cleanups, the student council reps would whisper, "From behind, you look exactly like Tristan. Same height, same build." I had found his picture once in the school archives. He was wearing his varsity jacket, smiling with an easy, radiant confidence. The entire school adored him. Except Madeline. Whenever other girls swooned over his memory, she would scoff, her face contorting with anger. Once, when a group of girls was looking at his old yearbook photo, she had snatched the book, slammed it onto the floor, and stomped on it. "He's nothing but a cowardly fraud," she had spat. When we started dating, I asked her why she hated him so much. She had clenched her jaw, her eyes dark. "Because he's a liar. A complete coward. Everyone is just too blind to see it." She refused to say anything more. But whenever people compared me to him, she would always snap, "Hugh is Hugh, and Tristan is Tristan. There is no comparison." I had foolishly believed she was protecting my dignity. Now, I realized she was protecting her own secret. I reached out and shook Tristan’s hand, offering a polite, empty smile. With Brody steering the conversation, the room quickly warmed up again, with classmates crowding around Tristan to ask about his wedding. Madeline’s eyes never left him. There was a look of intense adoration and longing in her gaze—a look she had never once directed at me in our four years of marriage. I sat quietly in the dark corner of the booth, feeling like a ghost at my own table. Someone nudged Madeline, asking if she had prepared a special gift for her old classmate’s wedding. Madeline’s cheeks flushed a light pink, her eyes darting away for a split second. "I'm still putting the finishing touches on it," she murmured. "But it will definitely be a night to remember."
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "450039", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel