ALLY (UNEDITED VERSION)

Chapter 12 - Shattered Illusions

Many questions are swirling in my mind.

What should I do?
Should I just dwell on this until he comes home? Confront him about these pictures?
Should I believe in these images?
What if someone wants to ruin him for me? What if these are edited?

But still, it hurts because I feel it. Even before seeing these pictures, there was something different about him. Painful as it is to contemplate, I have a hunch that he's hiding something. My intuition is strong.

I've chosen to keep this from him for now. I'll figure it out on my own. Perhaps, if I confront him about this, he'll instantly deny it or perceive me differently. He might think I'm an overly suspicious wife.

In our relationship, he takes the dominant role, and I'm the submissive one. He provides everything, so I simply follow his lead.

For now, I need to put aside my suspicions about him. I have to witness with my own eyes if he's deceiving me and if my instincts are correct. I'll pretend if necessary.

I closed my eyes, trying to shake off the images I had seen earlier.

Uncertain if I was dreaming, I felt a gentle touch on my thighs, creating a ticklish sensation. The touch then moved to a more intimate area, delicately exploring. I found myself responding to the unfamiliar feelings with soft moans. Eventually, I woke up to Andrew kissing me. Although part of me wanted him to stop, I couldn't find the words. All I knew was that his actions stirred something within me.

The next day..

Thelma has returned to the house, and I have a companion again. I assist her in preparing breakfast for Andrew and me. Andrew descends with his usual serious look, as if he prefers others not to witness our dynamic when it's just the two of us.

I smile at him, and he responds with a quick kiss.

"Do you have another business trip?" I asked.

"Yes, the day after tomorrow," he replies in a chilly tone.

"Can we go on vacation sometime?" I ask hesitantly. He pauses while eating.

"Sure, I'll think about where," he says. I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking he might ask why.

Sometimes, I can't understand his varying treatment towards me. Sometimes he's sweet, and other times he's cold. It confuses me if he really loves me. He's difficult to read. But is this just how we are supposed to be? I thought, is he like that because he grew up that way? Does he love me but just isn't expressive? I thought about the pictures I saw. I opened my iMessage again.

Who was the woman who called me?

I decided to make an impromptu visit to Andrew's company. Without informing him, I booked a Grab. I'm dressed in a plaid-patterned short back blazer, a white top paired with a long black skirt, and Jimmy Choo stiletto. I left my straight, dark brown hair down. As I stepped out of the vehicle, my gaze encompassed the entire AVI building. Its impressive modern architecture stood tall and sleek, adorned with glass windows that reflected the surrounding cityscape. Approaching closer, I couldn't help but marvel at AVI's symbol of success and innovation.

I entered and noticed a few people looking at me in my peripheral vision. Choosing to ignore them, I continued to the concierge.

"Hello, Ma'am! Do you have an appointment?" asked the polite lady assigned to the concierge.

"Yes, Andrew Valencia," I replied.

"May I know your name, Ma'am? Just to check?" she inquired.

"I'm his wife," I responded succinctly.

She looked at me.

"Allyson Valencia," I added.

I noticed that she made a call on the telephone, but it seemed that no one was answering. She looked at me again.

"Mr. Valencia usually doesn't accept visitors without an appointment, Ma'am. However, since you're his wife and my call to Mr. Valencia's secretary went unanswered, I'll accompany you to his office," she replied hesitantly.

As I entered the elevator, a mix of nervousness pervaded my emotions. I pressed the 10th-floor button. Rather than requesting assistance to Andrew's office, the concierge lady informed me that there were only two offices on that floor—one belonging to Andrew and the other to the secretary.

When the elevator doors opened on the 10th floor, I paused to inhale and exhale. Stepping onto the 10th floor, two offices stood facing each other. I peered into the secretary's elegant office, its walls adorned with sleek glass panels providing a clear view of the meticulously arranged desk. Bathed in natural light, the desk held a computer and all essential office supplies with a pristine sense of order. The transparency of the glass walls conveyed an air of professionalism.

In one corner, a cozy seating area invited guests or colleagues to wait in style, plush chairs complementing the overall sophistication. The ambiance exuded a perfect blend of efficiency and aesthetic appeal, reflecting the high standards set by the CEO's office next door. It was a space where functionality seamlessly met elegance, embodying the ethos of the corporate environment.

'Yvonne is not in her office,' as I glanced around.

Then, I shifted my gaze to Andrew's office. Outside, the door exuded an air of exclusivity with its understated elegance in black and gray. The absence of glass walls emphasized the CEO's preference for privacy, creating a discreet enclave within the corporate domain.

Despite my nervousness, I noticed that the door to Andrew's office was slightly ajar. I entered quietly, consciously avoiding any noise. Once inside, a dark hallway stretched ahead. Moving towards the visible light around the corner, I took slow, careful steps, realizing that the sound of my stiletto heels was muted by the carpeted floor. Turning the corner, I abruptly froze upon hearing something that shook me to my core – whispers of pleasure echoed through the air, the sole sounds resonating in that space, each moan piercing through the silence.

I stood frozen in place, discreetly peeking, thinking I wouldn't be noticed. I covered my mouth in shock at the sight of Andrew and his secretary, both unclothed on the long sofa. Unable to bear the scene, I hastily left the office, feeling as if I'd been drenched in cold water, a wave of disgust washing over me. Suppressing tears, I hurried out, pressing the floor button for descent.

I needed to leave this building immediately. My suspicions were correct, the pictures sent to me were unaltered. They were in a relationship. In my haste, unable to book a Grab, I searched for a taxi to take me home promptly. Once inside, the tears I'd been holding back finally fell.