what happened? Fem Y/N x Peter

III

He stared at the picture in amazement. He didn't think about anything while watching it, he would just look the image over and over again.

— Well, let me try the breakfast you brought —Y/N said, coming out of her closet with a pink doctor uniform— Did you prepare it? —She questioned as she took a piece of the bacon and egg with the spoon.

Peter nodded in surprise, then turned away and sat on the stool at the foot of the bed. Once seated, he looked carefully at Y/N, thinking she wasn't the same that he loved: She had the same face, just a bit thinner. She had the same eyelashes, eyebrows, the same lips, hair and skintone. It was her but it wasn't her. He was very confused.

— What a delight! —she exclaimed— it was very tasty! I didn't know you knew how to cook.

Peter looked at her confused. How come she didn't know that if, right now, they are supposed to be married?

Y/N walked to the bathroom and brushed her teeth so she could put on her makeup.

— By the way —she spoke from the bathroom— Don called...

— What! —Peter exclaimed in anger.

— Yes, I also wonder why your boss would call to our apartment's phone and not to your cell phone. Anyway, he said next week you'll be travelling to Las Vegas to test the new mattresses that will be put in the Newly Married Suits at Cesar's Palace...

What did he just heard? Don was his boss? He had to travel?

— God, I really envy your work! —she said, leaving the bathroom and wearing a natural makeup— I'd love to get money by sleeping and not having to spend almost twenty hours witnessing an operation —she finished putting on a silver necklace with some simple earrings— Heh, at least Timothée's operation does not last more than two hours, so most likely he will return home today.

— Who is Timothée? —Peter asked, burning in jealousy.

— The child I've been checking on these last two weeks? Damn it Peter, what's wrong with you today?! —She said confused— If he wasn't getting operated today, I swear I'd take you to the hospital myself.

Y/N she took her purse, keys and left the apartment without saying goodbye to Peter. He only saw her leaving, unable to stop her. He couldn't understand a thing of what was happening. He put his hands on his head, trying to calm down. Suddenly, he felt something was missing. He looked at his left hand and noticed that he wasn't wearing his wedding ring.

Without thinking twice, he got up and started looking for it, staring strangely at everything in the room: A king size bed, two sideboards with lamps, a cabinet with a missing mirror, two doors at both sides of the bed, assuming one of them was supposed to be his closet.

He opened one of those doors and confirmed his theory. This was his closet, containing several formal suits, casual but elegant clothes and sportswear. At one side were all his shoes and, at the other, there were drawers with underwear, ties, suspenders, belts, scarves, watches and sunglasses.

He searched inside his jewelry box and found a wedding ring in a red velvet container. He put it on and stared at it for a moment. It was a simple ring, without details or engravings. It seemed to be a random ring.

He closed the closet's door, walked out of there and investigated the rest of the apartment, walking towards the living room. Everything was different, it wasn't his home and neither felt like one. There were marked differences in the place: two sofas of different styles apart from each other and vases that wouldn't combine with the flowers. It looked more like an roommates apartment and not one of a married couple.

There was another wedding picture. It showed the newlyweds in the living room, with Y/N seated on the sofa's arm and Peter on the seat cushion, both wearing a forced smile on their faces, and just a bit close to each other.

More pictures were decorating the place. One of them had Y/N smiling happily, wearing a cap and a gown, raising her title in triumph. In another image, Peter was wearing the same outfit while holding his title firmly. Along with each individual photograph were their college generation pictures.

With curiousity, he approached her wife's graduation pictures, finding out she had graduated from psychology.

The doorbell rang, snapping him back to reality.

— Who is it? —he asked over the communicator.

— Your lawyer —the person answered from the other side of the door, with a tone of irony.

Did he have a lawyer? Why would he visit him? Peter opened the apartment's door, seeing that at the other side was TK.

— Good morning darling! —they greeted as they threw themselves into Peter's arms and tried to kiss him.

— What the hell are you doing?! —he yelled in a mad surprise as he pushed them away.

— What's the matter? —they asked while recovering from that hard push— Did that bitch do something that made you angry, my love?

Peter, full of rage quickly punched TK's cheek, leaving them knocked to the ground with their head spinning.

— The hell's your fucking problem, King! —TK asked angry, yelling while laying on the floor.

— Don't you dare call my wife like that ever again! —he threatened, approaching them— Or you might not leave this place in one piece.

— Oh wow, now it turns out that she is your wife! —TK yelled from the ground— If that's so, then why did you do all of this!

— What! —he asked, getting an envelope from TK thrown straight at his face.

— You've been sleeping with me and your housekeeper for months —TK started standing up— You've been saying for months that woman is cheating on you because she's nearly at home —Peter's surprise got bigger as TK kept going— You've been calling her yourself for months "a bitch"!

After saying those words, they approached the entrance, rubbing their cheek, trying not to cry from the punch and out of rage.

— But I think you're just in a bad mood because of her, so I'll leave you to think things over and... call me whenever you feel better —they said, opening the door— But don't you think I'll forgive you so easily.

They said, finishing by slamming the door.

-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-

I thank my partner for helping me with the translation.