Pear-Shaped Marriage.

Realization.

Sophie sat on the edge of Daniel's couch, her posture too perfect for someone whose world was hanging by a thread. Her fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup, the heat long gone. Across from her, Ryan and Daniel talked in hushed tones, their voices thick with concern as they recounted last night's discovery. Every word was a dagger, but Sophie remained composed. She had to.

Ryan's voice broke through the tension first. "He wasn't even trying to hide it. He walked right into her apartment like it was nothing." His fists clenched on the armrest, his frustration palpable. "I don't know what the hell he's thinking."

Daniel nodded, his eyes flicking to Sophie, waiting for her to react. But she didn't flinch. She just sat there, staring at the cup in her hands like it held all the answers.

Emma sat beside her, close enough to feel the weight of Sophie's silence. Her hand rested gently on Sophie's back, rubbing slow circles. She knew Sophie wasn't the type to explode in front of everyone. No, Sophie would keep it together, no matter how much it hurt. But Emma worried. She worried what would happen when the silence was all Sophie had left.

Ryan's words continued to swirl in the air, mixing with the sounds of the city outside the window. It all felt so distant, so surreal. They were talking about Jason, about his affair, like it was some casual scandal. But for Sophie, it was more than that. It was her life unraveling piece by piece, and yet, here she was—silent, calculating.

Finally, she spoke. Her voice cut through the room, soft but sharp.

"What did she look like?"

Ryan stopped mid-sentence, glancing at Daniel, then back to Sophie. Her question wasn't one of curiosity. It was clinical, detached, like she was assessing damage, trying to figure out how bad it really was.

Daniel cleared his throat, hesitant. "She was... I don't know. Blonde. Tall, kind of—" He paused, thinking. "She had this confident look, like she knew exactly what she was doing with him."

Sophie's eyes narrowed, but she didn't react. She only listened. Her gaze shifted slightly toward Emma, but she didn't say anything.

Ryan spoke next. "Her dress was expensive. Black, tight. She wasn't exactly trying to be subtle." He laughed bitterly. "Jason really knows how to pick them."

Sophie's lips pressed into a thin line, and Emma felt her tense under her hand. She knew this woman. Sophie wasn't reacting because she was connecting the dots, and Emma could see it in her eyes.

"Anything else?" Sophie asked quietly. Her tone was so measured, it was unsettling. "Details. I need details."

Ryan frowned, confused, but continued. "She had these, uh, long earrings. Silver, I think. And her nails were this deep red, almost... too perfect, if that makes sense."

It did. It made perfect sense.

Sophie looked up, her eyes meeting Emma's. There was a flash of recognition between them, like they were speaking without words. Emma's hand stilled on Sophie's back, and for the first time all evening, the room fell silent.

They both knew.

Sophie's breath caught in her throat, but she didn't crumble. No, she sat up straighter, as if the realization had only given her more power, more control. She knew exactly who the woman was. So did Emma. And that knowledge was dangerous.

Emma looked at her, eyes wide, mirroring the same shock Sophie felt. They shared that moment, that unspoken understanding, before Emma quickly masked her expression. They couldn't let the men see the truth—not yet.

Ryan kept talking, oblivious. "I mean, she didn't seem the type Jason would usually go for. But, who knows what's going through his head these days."

Sophie's calm was unnerving, her silence even more so. But inside, a plan was forming. She wasn't going to let this woman walk away unscathed. No. She wasn't going to fall apart like some betrayed wife in a tragic story. Sophie was smarter than that. She wasn't going to confront Jason in some dramatic blow-up. She was going to do something far worse.

Emma's hand returned to Sophie's back, squeezing lightly. They didn't need words. They'd already decided.

It was her.

They knew exactly who the mistress was. And this wouldn't be some sloppy confrontation in a living room. No. Sophie would make sure that when this woman's world fell apart, it would be done with precision. Carefully. Quietly. But it would happen.

Emma's eyes stayed on Sophie, reading her like an open book. She could see the wheels turning, the pieces falling into place. This was the calm before the storm, and when Sophie was ready, the storm would tear everything apart.

The men had no idea.

But Sophie and Emma did. They knew exactly what they had to do.