BAD WIFE

Chapter {9}

After tucking Dylan, Matthew, and Emmie into their beds and checking on Alyssa one last time, Clarissa made her way to the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of hot tea, the rising steam curling in delicate ribbons above the cup.

Outside, the night air was cool and still. She stepped onto the back patio, cradling the mug in both hands.

There were no clouds in sight. The moon hung like a curved blade in the sky—slender and quiet. The stars scattered across the heavens like glittering secrets, bold and unashamed in their shine.

It was the kind of night that demanded reflection. The kind of night that echoed with memories.

Flashback...

Five months pregnant with Emmie, Clarissa had developed a serious obsession with baby carrots. She craved them constantly—crisp, cold, dipped in hummus. She'd never liked them before, but now she was convinced her baby would be born orange.

That night, she had just gotten Alyssa and Dylan to sleep. The house was finally still. Jacob had slipped into the shower. The quiet moment was perfect—just her and her latest craving.

She was perched on the kitchen counter in her pajamas, legs swinging slightly, dipping carrots into hummus and savoring the cool crunch with every bite.

Then—beep.

Jacob's phone lit up on the table.

She glanced over.

Her instincts told her not to look.

But she did.

It was a single message.

"I'll be there in 20."

Completely normal—on the surface.

Except it wasn't. Because the sender's name at the top read Sue.

Sue.

Her friend. A woman who had been in their house. Held her children. Laughed at her table.

Her brows furrowed. Why was Sue texting Jacob? Why was she going anywhere at this time of night? And why wasn't it her, Clarissa, who got that message?

Still, she tried to brush it off. Maybe there was a reason. Maybe it was normal.

She stayed on the counter, waiting. Needing confirmation. Hoping for it.

Jacob stepped out of the shower minutes later, hair damp, a towel slung casually around his neck. He smiled when he saw her.

"More carrots?" he teased, chuckling softly. He walked over and kissed her forehead—gentle, familiar.

Then he picked up his phone.

She watched him read the message.

Waited for confusion to cross his face.

Waited for him to say something like, Hey, your friend just texted me something weird.

But he didn't.

He shoved the phone into his pocket like it meant nothing.

Then came back and kissed her again on the forehead—soft, routine, practiced.

"I have to head out for a bit," he said casually. "I'll be back soon."

She swallowed. "Where are you going?" She forced the calm into her voice, tried to sound curious—not accusatory.

"Client," he answered smoothly. "Last minute."

And just like that... he left.

The second the door closed behind him, her composure shattered.