Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 47419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 237(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 237(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Everyone seemed to be rallying around them, the ‘it’ couple. There were a few comments made that were suspect, like when someone said she looked much happier than before and that Jacob seemed to be taking very good care of her.
He commented something about protecting the queen or some such crap, and she blew him a kiss; well, she used an emoji to do it, but it’s still the same. I hate her so much, and that has never changed.
I never stopped in all this time to think why I hated her. I didn’t even know her when I started sleeping with her husband. She was never that important to me. It was only after her reaction that I started paying attention, and I never liked what I saw.
I didn’t like that she didn’t fight, didn’t engage me, even when I reached out to her. Her attitude always made me feel like shit as if she thought she was better than me. I used words to hurt her, and still, she never retaliated.
Not even when she had to send her kids to the home I shared with their father, she was never high conflict like I’d read of most jilted women being, and I could never understand it. I guess I’m beginning to see why now, though, but that can’t be right.
Surely, if he had been treating her the way he has been treating me lately, she would’ve filed for divorce a long time ago. But I never heard of him mistreating her. In fact, from everything I heard when everyone thought we were just work friends when he first started bringing me around, they were the ‘it’ couple before they had their first child.
I even heard how he used to fawn over her and was besotted; I think that’s the word one of them used since the first night they met. I rolled my eyes at that because if he was so besotted, he wouldn’t have fallen into my bed.
In those days, I used to pride myself on being better than her. I’d won, and she’d lost. But she just never gave me the satisfaction of being a sore loser. I realize that that’s why I keep stalking her pages. I need to see her bend or break, but instead, she seems to be living her best life.
She was glowing while I was losing my hair from stress and gaining weight from stress eating because of her asshole husband. My skin had broken out from all the fried foods I’ve been eating, and my anxiety, which I never had before, has been off the charts.
She had to have known, the bitch. Why didn’t she say anything from one woman to another? How could she let me fuck up my life like this so she could go off and have her happily ever after while I was left to deal with her leftovers that weren’t even that good?
Each time I tell myself to throw in the towel, which is usually right after he’s hit me, I talk myself out of it. If I walked away now, then I would have upended my life and lost everything for nothing. I thought by now, Doug and I would be married, and I’d be living the life they once shared.
A nice house in a wealthy neighborhood with friends that we hung out with every weekend when we weren’t going away, that is. We’d have kids someday down the line, and I’d keep my figure unlike her so he wouldn’t lose interest.
Instead, I’m stuck with an overweight slob whose farts make me not want to be in the same time zone, let alone the same house. Our home is a rental, while his ex-wife is living in a mansion that is twice the size of the home they once shared.
If I thought it would work, I would try my hand at going after her new husband because why not? But I know from the few times I’d seen him before they were even together that he hates me.
Just like her, he’s always acted like I don’t exist. I decided to comment using my assumed name and my heart beat so hard I thought I would pass out. I don’t know why I did it, but it felt as if I were part of the conversation.
No one knew it was me after all, and I was hoping it would pass, but I was surprised to see the comment disappear almost immediately. I stared down at the phone in shocked silence and felt a cold shiver run down my spine.
Why would she erase it? Did she know that it was me? I felt so stupid. Of course, she did. How did I not think of that? The same way I can see who’s on my page, she could have the same ability. The bitch must’ve been having a good laugh at my expense all this time because I visited her page at least twice a day, even when she was radio silent.