**Betrayal in the Heart**
In the quiet town of Winchester, where life moved at a leisurely pace and gossip spread faster than wildfire, I, Victoria, prided myself on being the perfect wife. My husband, Richard, had my unwavering love and trust. I never searched his coat for stray hairs, never snooped through his phone, never tormented him with suspicions. Until that fateful day that turned everything upside down.
That morning, I went to the local bank to get a new card. I took a ticket and settled onto the worn-out waiting room sofa. Nearby, two women in their late thirties were deep in conversation. Their voices, loud and animated, filled the room, and whether I wanted to or not, I became an unwilling listener. One, with a tremor in her voice, recounted catching her husband cheating. The other nodded sympathetically, but there was a hint of schadenfreude in her tone, as if thinking, *”Serves you right!”*
The story was gut-wrenching. The cheating husband had come home acting strangely—eyes glazed, shirt missing a button, as if torn off in passion. While he showered, the wife, gnawed by suspicion, grabbed his phone. There were messages and calls from his mistress. He didn’t deny it. “Yes, I love someone else—I just feel sorry for you,” he admitted. “Ten years of my life—gone!” the woman wailed, her voice cracking with pain.
When my number flashed on the screen, I hurried to the counter, but the conversation lingered in my mind like a splinter. I had just turned forty, and in a month, Richard and I were to celebrate our eleventh wedding anniversary. All day, I replayed what I’d overheard, and by evening, unease gnawed at me, twisting into dark thoughts. I braced myself for battle.
Richard came home late, his face drawn, his eyes dull. “Exhausted,” he muttered before disappearing into the shower. I stood frozen, staring at his phone on the nightstand. Never before had I crossed that line, but the words of that woman in the bank echoed in my head. My hands shook, my pulse roared—shame warred with curiosity, but I caved. I snatched up the phone and scrolled through his messages.
And there it was—the knife to my heart. Dozens of messages from someone named “*Her Majesty*.” This shameless woman texted Richard more often than the bank sent payment alerts. I didn’t dare read them—the truth might have crushed me. I checked the call log: she called him, he called her. My world shattered. The light in my eyes dimmed, my chest tightened as if my heart had been ripped out and thrown to the floor. Nausea rose with the pain. *”Ten years… How could he?”* thundered in my skull. Maybe I should hit the bottle?
Carefully—as if holding a venomous snake—I placed the phone back. Richard emerged from the shower, towel around his waist, still oblivious to the storm inside me. He took one look at my face and understood—years together teach you that. A silent nod asked, *”What’s wrong?”*
I blurted out, barely holding back tears:
“Who the hell is *Her Majesty*, and why is she blowing up your phone?”
Richard froze, staring at me like I’d grown a second head. The silence between us felt thick, suffocating—like the air before a storm. Finally, he sighed:
“That’s it?”
“I never expected this from you,” I choked out, my voice trembling. “Ten years… I thought we were happy!”
My temples throbbed, my heart in pieces. Without a word, Richard walked to the dresser, picked up his phone, and tapped a contact. I squeezed my eyes shut, certain he was calling *her* to say, *”We’ve been caught.”* But then my own phone rang. I opened my eyes. Richard turned his screen toward me—*Her Majesty* flashed on the display. But our surname wasn’t royal!
He watched me with a patient smile, like a teacher waiting for a slow student to catch up. And then it hit me. I remembered how, in our early years, Richard playfully called me *”Her Majesty, Vicky.”* My name—Victoria—had inspired the joke. How had I forgotten?
Shame burned through me, cheeks flaming. Still smiling, Richard murmured,
“Vicky, you’re my only queen. Always have been, always will be.”
I collapsed into his arms, laughing and crying all at once. The pain dissolved, leaving only the warmth of his embrace. But deep down, I knew—this day would haunt me forever.
