Roxanne shook her head, her lips parting but barely able to form the words. "No. You," she managed to breathe. "You can’t be serious."

Christian looked at her, his gaze dead and unblinking. "I am dead serious, Roxanne. Dead serious."

"Do you even know what an open marriage means for us?" she asked, her voice trembling. "For our marriage?"

Christian scoffed, gesturing vaguely around the space. "Look around you, Roxanne," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "You’re the only person in this room who doesn’t understand what it is. "

Roxanne’s eyes darted past him to the woman who was still lounging tangled in their sheets like she owned the mattress. A sudden, vicious spike of adrenaline cut through her shock.

"Get out!" she spat, her voice cracking before she found her full strength. "Get out of my house now!" she yelled.

Sharon didn’t even look at her. Instead, she slid a glance toward Christian, waiting for his cue.

Christian gave a dismissive nod. "Get your things and wait for me downstairs. We’ll take this somewhere else," he told her calmly.

The woman nodded, deliberately taking her time as she gathered her scattered clothes, completely ignoring the daggers Roxanne was staring into her.

Roxanne felt her insides boil, a toxic mix of humiliation and rage searing her throat as she watched the stranger dress and saunter out of the room.

But the moment Sharon cleared the threshold, Christian didn’t waste a beat. He turned, already following right behind his mistress.

Panic flared in Roxanne’s chest. She lunged forward, grabbing his arm. "No! Chris, you can’t leave like this," she pleaded, her fingers gripping his sleeve tightly.

He stopped, but only barely.

Her eyes burned as tears gathered faster than she could hold them back. "Listen." Her voice wavered. "We can pretend none of this happened. Like the last time." The words tasted bitter in her mouth, but desperation swallowed her pride whole. "I’m ready to look away," she whispered.

Christian froze. He looked down at her, and for a fraction of a second, his eyes softened. It looked like a glimmer of reason, like the man she loved was still in there.

Moving closer, Roxanne eagerly cupped his face in her hands, looking up at him with everything she had left. "This feeling will pass, my love. I forgive you, I promise," she whispered, her tone aching with desperation. "We can get back on track despite this. We can go to therapy. We can fix us. Please." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Christian stared at her, his brows creasing tightly for a moment, looking almost pained by her words. But just as quickly as the softness appeared, it curdled into pure irritation. Slowly, he peeled her hands off his face and looked her dead in the eye.

"No, Roxanne. I am not interested in fixing anything," Christian said, his voice entirely flat. "I want an open marriage, and that is final. It’s entirely up to you whether you accept it or live in denial."

Before she could utter another word, he turned, walked out of the room, and shut the door firmly behind him. The click of the lock echoing in the quiet room broke the final dam.

Roxanne stood there, her head shaking in disbelief as the tears finally spilled over, flowing freely down her cheeks. Her knees gave out, and she sank heavily onto the floor, her heart pounding a frantic, painful rhythm against her ribs.

She stared at the empty room, her fingers curling into tight fists against the hardwood.

"An open marriage? No," she whispered into the silence, a sudden, fierce spark of defiance igniting beneath her grief. "I can’t agree to that. I will have my husband to myself. I’ll fight for us."

—

Three weeks later.

Roxanne had thrown herself into becoming an even more devoted wife, pouring every ounce of her energy into showing Christian that their five-year history was still worth fighting for.

She cooked his favorite meals, kept their home immaculate, and swallowed her pride, hoping the nightmare of three weeks ago was just a temporary lapse in his sanity.

Humming softly to distract her mind, she gathered his discarded clothes from the master bedroom, determined to get his laundry done before he needed to dress for his meetings.

But as she sorted through his designer button-downs, lifting them one by one to load into the washing machine, her hands suddenly froze.

Right there, smeared vividly across the crisp white collar of his shirt, was a streak of ruby-red lipstick.

Roxanne’s breath hitched. Her heart shattered all over again, the familiar, suffocating weight pressing down on her chest. She forced herself to blink past the sudden sting in her eyes, shaking her head as she reached for the next shirt in the pile.

Another stain. Different collar, same mocking shade of red.

The room seemed to spin. She leaned heavily against the cold wall of the laundry room, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth as hot, bitter tears finally spilled over her lashes. She had shrunk herself to nothing for three weeks, and this was her reward.

Suddenly, the sadness curdled into a blinding, white-hot rush of adrenaline. Exhaling a sharp, ragged breath, Roxanne ripped the stained shirt from the pile. Clutching the fabric tightly in her fist, she marched down the hallway and stormed into their bedroom.

Christian was sprawling lazily across the mattress, a faint, entertained smirk playing on his lips as he tapped away at his phone. He didn’t even glance up when the door slammed against the wall.

"What the hell is this, Christian?" Roxanne demanded, her voice shaking with raw fury as she thrust the stained collar directly into his line of sight.

Christian lazily shifted his gaze to the shirt, his expression entirely unbothered, before looking right back down at his screen as if she and the evidence of his betrayal didn’t matter at all.

"Answer me!" Roxanne barked, the veins in her neck bulging as her voice echoed off the walls.

This time, Christian finally lowered his phone and his brows snapped together as a mask of deep irritation took over his face. "Why are you standing there asking stupid questions when the answer is staring you right in the face?" he shot back, his tone dripping with malice.

"So you’re actively cheating on me. Still." Her voice dropped to a horrifyingly quiet whisper.

Christian scoffed, tossing his phone onto the nightstand. "I asked you for an open marriage three weeks ago," he said, leaning back against the pillows lazily. "You either give me what I asked for, or you get used to seeing a lot more of that."

"If you no longer want to be married to me, then give me a divorce!" Roxanne blurted out, her chest heaving violently, the humiliation tearing her apart from the inside out. "I would rather leave with nothing than stay here and let you drag my dignity through the mud like this!"

At the word divorce, Christian’s face hardened. His eyes narrowed into a calculated, dangerous glare. "Divorce? That’s not an option," he said, his voice flat. "The only option on this table is an open marriage. You can either take it or you can deal with the daily consequences of having a cheating husband. The choice is yours."

He picked his phone back up, completely dismissing her presence. "When you finally decide to accept reality, let me know."

Roxanne stood frozen at the foot of the bed, her chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. She looked at the man she had loved for half a decade. He wasn’t fighting for her. He wasn’t even pretending to care anymore. And somehow, that hurt more than the cheating itself.

Slowly, her trembling fingers curled into tight fists at her sides. Her eyes still burning with unshed tears. "Let’s do it then," she said, her voice barely steady.

Christian looked up, a smug, deeply satisfied smile slowly spreading across his lips. He had won. Or, at least, he thought he had.

"Good choice," he murmured, already looking back down at his screen. "Now leave me alone. I have work to do."

Roxanne swallowed hard against the bitter taste in her mouth. She didn’t say another word. She turned on her heel and walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.