Penelope's POV:
“You can just get her anything. It doesn't matter what it is. Penelope is a simple woman. She'll accept a ring made of bread tie.”
My sister, Calypso, is laughing. She's in bed, tangled with a man, her hair and makeup messy in a way that can only be from sex.
“Nah. I don't want her to think I'm poor.” The man, Charles, who's also my husband of four years replies. “It has to be something thoughtful. Something…classy. I got her a diamond earring set the last time. Maybe rubies? Or gold? Come on, give me ideas.”
“She has a million of these ‘classy’ gifts already,” He runs his fingers down her arm. “What can I say? I like spoiling my wife rotten. She never had it growing up, you know.”
“I fucking know. We're twins, remember?”
My heart threatens to burst out of my chest, the same way my eyes fill with hot tears. Standing outside our shared bedroom, I can see everything from the crack in the door. I clamp a shaky hand over my mouth to make sure I won't make a noise. My blood turns to ice in my veins and my head swims.
No.
This can't be happening. I'm dreaming. I must have fallen asleep on the plane and this is all a horror nightmare.
There's no way my husband, the one man who made me believe in love, the one who's never been anything but kind, sweet, and gentle to me, the one who cried on our wedding day….there's no way he's in bed with my sister now.
Charles pulls Calypso into his lap.
“Ready for round…what now?” She says in-between giggles.
“Who cares?” My husband replies in a breathy groan. “Your body is fucking dynamite, love. Can't get enough of you.”
Love. My love. That's what he calls me when he's deep inside me. When he's holding me after an exhausting day of work and he kisses my hair, telling me how much he loves me.
He's calling her that now…
I take a step back. My breaths lodge in my throat. He said that to me…oh gods. How many times has this happened.
“And yet, you go back to her every time. You get her a fancy gift, tell her how much you love her, and fuck her like she's the only woman in your heart.”
Charles chuckles. It used to fill my belly with butterflies, now it fills me with dread. “I don't fuck Penelope. I make love to her, there's a difference.”
There's silence. It stretches on for so long that I begin to wonder if they vanished. But when I look up, I find that they're still there.
They burst into laughter. It's so sudden that it punches me in the gut. My twin sister and my husband, fucking, laughing at me. I grit my teeth hard, caught between storming in and strangling them and quietly leaving.
“Poor Pen. I almost feel sorry for her.” Calypso says, pushing her silky black hair over her shoulder. Her slender body writhes on top of him, the wet sounds of their bodies making me sick. “Maybe we should have a threesome. That'll be so much fun, don't you think so?”
“With her? Out of the question.” Charles flips her on her stomach, leaning over her. His sandy hair falls over his gray eyes which are brimming with lust. Lust for her. “She blushes when I kiss her cheek, she only knows two positions, and she's shy as hell. You might give her a heart attack from the idea alone.”
“And I'm the slut?”
“My slut, you mean.”
I can't take it anymore.
I turn and hurry away, grateful for a second that I had taken my shoes off. I grab my purse and leave the house, not stopping till I'm out in the open. The afternoon sun blinds me, and the sounds of the busy street make me want to retreat.
My hands are shaky as I fish for my phone. I swallow the lump in my throat, blinking back tears as I scroll down my contact list.
“Baby, aren't you on a flight?” Seraphina, my best friend yawns the moment she pick the call. In the background I hear a cat yowl. “Quit it Duke, I'm on a call!”
“Where…where are you?” My voice is cracking. The tears rush forward and I choke on a sob. I bit my lip till I taste copper.
“What's wrong? I'm at home, do you need a lift?” her tone turns serious.
“The flight was…was cancelled and I…I'm at home and…” I can't get any more words out without bursting into tears in front of the fucking Bjorn palace. That would make headlines by evening.
“Hey, hey, it's okay, you don't need to say anything.” She shushes me gently, and I can hear her keys jangling. “I'm coming, okay? I'll be there in five.”
She's here in four minutes on her bike.
Seraphina is a vision of beauty. With long flaming red hair, stunning blue eyes, a killer figure, and flawless ivory skin, she reminds me of a goddess. Even after ten years, I'm still in awe. She's dressed in black leather, and she doesn't take off her helmet.
"Do we need to pick up some beer?" She asks as she tosses her spare helmet at me. It's pink, has cat ears and sparkly stickers.
"Yeah," I say as I fasten the straps around my head. My hands still tremble, and it takes longer to fasten the straps. Once I'm done, I clench my fists hard. My fingernails cut into my palm, and I inhaled deeply to steady myself.
Don't cry. Don't cry. Penelope, don't you dare cry now.
She's doesn't ask any questions. The ride to her place is silent. The moment I step into her cozy pastel pink apartment, all my composure crumbles.
My entire body trembles, and the tears come rushing. I cover my face with my hands as I sob. My chest feels like there's a boulder sitting on it.
Seraphina sits beside me, her arms around my quaking shoulders. "Baby? Tell me what's wrong."
"Charles...he..." I attempt to speak, wiping tears with the back of my hand.
"Do I need to punch that pretty boy?" She asks in a dead serious tone.
I try to laugh and it comes out a sob. "N-no...just..."
"Take your time, baby. I'm right here."
For a brief second I wonder if confiding this in Seraphina is okay. But on second thought, who else do I have? I can't carry this ache alone. It would crush me. Plus she knows everything about me.
So I tell her. As I recount the experience to her, I realize how stupid I've been, how obvious the signs had always been.
Calypso always coming to visit when Charles was at home, I thought nothing of it. The late nights when he would return with her perfume on his clothes. The looks they'd give each other. The inside jokes that I never could understand.
It hits me all at once.
They've been doing this for a long time. How long? Six months, a year, or two?
My heart drops to my stomach, and the pain in my heart intensifies. How could I be so foolish?
Once I tell her everything, she grabs her phone, rises to her feet and makes a call. Her face is set in stone, and her eyes are two shades darker.
I wipe my eyes. “Who are you calling?”
“My mum's lawyer. You're getting a divorce.”
Panic slices through me. I grab her phone and hide it behind me. “No! You can't do that!”
“Hand my phone back.”
I shake my head and step back. “You don't understand, I can't divorce Charles. I can't do it.”
She frowns. “Why not? From what you've just told me, heck even I was fooled! I used to think he was husband of the year! He's been fucking your sister, Pen. Aren't you angry?!”
“I…I am. But…I can't divorce him. We had a contract.”
“You signed what?! Why would you do that?!”
I flinch at her tone. Guilt settles in my heart. Guilt for not telling her. “You see? And unless I magically have ten billion dollars somewhere…I can't break the contract.”
The anger on her face vanishes. Her jaw drops and she inhales a quick breath. “Oh my god. You didn't tell me. I thought you two were…oh heavens. This changes everything.”
“I'm sorry…”
I feel bad for lying to her. Well not exactly a lie, a half truth. I can't divorce Charles. Our marriage was a contract that eventually blurred the lines. I fell for him, and thought he loved me too. I didn't think I'd ever regret signing the contract. I was happy, in a way I never thought possible.
But now...things are different.