7
Through the crack, I saw Jessica sitting on
John’s lap.
“You said the kitten was giving birth? Her
belly’s still round; you lied!”
John said indulgently, wrapping his arms
around Jessica’s neck, their lips almost
touching.
“I had to tell a little white lie; otherwise, you
wouldn’t have met me.”
“You didn’t spend your anniversary with
Sarah; she’d pester you. I helped you escape.”
Jessica casually lifted his shirt collar.
The door creaked open.
Jessica shrieked, seeing me. John pushed her
off in fright.
“Sa… Sarah, what are you doing here?”
He stood up, his face contorted with terror.
“If I hadn’t come, would you have ended up in
bed?”
I strode forward and slapped Jessica.
She was stunned but didn’t complain.
“Honey, you misunderstood. My collar was
dirty, Jessica was just helping.”
John tried to justify, but the faint hickeys on
his neck betrayed him.
“Yes, Sa… Sarah, John and I didn’t do
anything. He has OCD, you know. You must
have misunderstood.”
I shoved the therapist’s report in front of
them.
“How long are you going to keep pretending?
Do you intend to lie forever?”
Exposed, John lost his composure.
He knelt, clutching my legs, sobbing:
“I’m sorry! I… I just wanted to tell you later,
give you a surprise.”
“Sarah, I didn’t mean to deceive you, believe
me.”
I repulsed him, pushing him away.
“We’re getting a divorce, John.”
“You disgust me.”
