Chapter 5 005

FREYA

I suddenly realized I had been staring at this stranger for too long. I looked at Rebecca and nodded for her to leave. She quietly walked off.

“Hi,” I said, but my voice sounded like it wasn’t sure of itself.

“Hi,” he replied, smiling.

What the hell. He smiled. 

“I have been here before,” he said, still holding that light smile. “But no one seemed to be at home.”

He stretched the flyer toward me and started talking again, his voice smooth and steady.

“We just opened a new gym down the street. State-of-the-art equipment, personal trainers, classes, all that. And we’re giving out discount coupons for people in the neighborhood. The first month is half off, and—”

Gym.

The second that word hit my ears, something inside me twisted hard. My brain didn’t even process the rest. Everything inside me snapped back to Mark in the bedroom, pointing at my stomach and my waist, telling me to fix myself. Like my body was some problem he needed solved.

And then, in one sick, dizzy second, my mind put it together: a ripped stranger showing up the very same morning, handing me a gym flyer. 

Did Mark really do this?

… I actually believe he sent this man.

My chest tightened. My breath shook. The humiliation hit me so fast it felt like a slap.

Of course he would. Mark wants to humiliate me further by arranging for a full-muscle gym man to show up at my door. That was exactly the kind of insult he would think is “helpful.”

The embarrassment burned through me again.

“And by the way, my name is Steve,” he added.

I blinked, snapped out of my haze, and before I knew it, the words fell out of my mouth.

“Did Mark send you?”

Steve paused, confused. “Who is Mark?”

A single tear dropped from my left eye before I could stop it. I didn’t even understand why it fell so fast, but I knew exactly what triggered it. Mark’s voice replaying in my head. His words stabbing me again and again.

My throat tightened. “Please… take your leave,” I whispered. I turned quickly, wanting to walk away before I embarrassed myself even more.

But his hand reached out gently and held my arm.

I froze.

Not because it hurt. But because the touch was warm, steady, and intentional. It made every nerve in my body spark sharply. I felt his grip—not rough, not grabbing, just firm enough to stop me.

I turned slowly.

His eyes narrowed slightly, focused on my face. And then he said quietly, his voice deep and intense, nothing like before:

“You’re crying?”

The way he said it…oh Damn

His fingers were still on my arm when he asked again.

“Did someone hurt you?”

Shit… His voice was rougher this time, darker, carrying something underneath it I couldn’t name.

What the fuck. My whole body reacted to that voice in ways I can’t explain. And his gaze… God, do people just switch like that? He didn’t look like the flyer gym guy from two minutes ago. Right now it wasn’t just concern; it was like he couldn’t stand the sight of my tears. That strange intensity sent a shiver through me so fast I had to breathe twice to steady myself.

“Please, just go,” I said, voice low and shaky, trying to pull away.

He didn’t move an inch. His hand stayed on my arm with a steadiness that wasn’t cruel but wasn’t something I could break free from either. I hated how he stared at me like that, so I bowed my head, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Look at me,” he said.

Simple words. But they slid into my body like a command.

I dragged my gaze up because I didn’t know what else to do, and the second I did, I regretted it. Up close he was worse. Storm-gray eyes almost completely black, pupils blown with something feral I didn’t have a name for. The scar slicing through his brow..God.. and the stubble on his jaw looked sharp enough to cut skin if he touched you the wrong way.

I used to devour dark romances and erotica novels before marriage stole that whole world from me. Standing here with Steve felt like one of those men had ripped straight out of the page and walked through my door.

“Fuck,” I whispered,

He stepped forward. I stepped back at the same time until my spine met the doorframe in a slow, helpless slide that made my breath hitch.

“Tell me who made you cry,” he said. The way his voice dropped, slowed, and deliberately turned my knees to liquid. I had to grip the frame, or I’d have slid straight to the floor.

“Why? I don’t even know you,” I managed, forcing sharpness into it.

He didn’t blink. Just smirked, voice dropping to something deadly quiet.

“Then don’t look like a lost little lamb… because I can’t stand it.” He growled the words

“He can’t stand it… Was that a joke?” I thought, dazed.

He watched me flinch, and then the corner of his mouth curved—like he loved the fear in my eyes.

The way he looked at me made my stomach knot, because something in that voice was driving me insane. His other hand lifted, slow enough I could have moved, but I didn’t. When his knuckles grazed the wet trail down my cheek, something inside me ignited, like a match struck against stone, the spark shooting straight into my chest.

“I don’t care to know who the fuck Mark is,” he growled, “but—”

“Freya, wake up,” I screamed inside my head and pushed him without letting him finish his words. Not hard enough to move him, but enough to break the closeness that was making my head spin. I didn’t push because I was angry, though part of me was. I pushed because of the heat rolling off him, and my body was thinking things that weren’t normal, weren’t allowed, things I had no right to think with a stranger at my door.

He just stood there, breathing quietly, watching me like he was trying to figure out what exactly I thought I was doing.

That stare crawled over my skin until I felt stupid for even touching him.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean to push you, I just… I can’t handle that closeness. You’re just…”

He watched me for a beat, eyes steady, unreadable. Then he nodded like he understood far more than I wanted him to.

“I’m a stranger, and you don’t know me,” Steve said, finishing the sentence for me.

He was right.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Something like that.”

And I hated how much of me wanted him to step close again.

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a matte black card, and pressed it into my palm. His fingers closed mine around it—slow, deliberate.

“Tomorrow. Eight. State-of-the-Art Gym..

You can choose to come either morning or Night

"8am or 8pm" he muttered..

His gaze dragged down my body, possessive and unhurried, like he was already stripping me bare.

He stepped back.

One step. Two.

The second he stepped back and turned away, the air in my chest collapsed. I didn’t even realize I’d been holding my breath until he finally walked off, and the next thing I heard was the roar of his bike.

He didn’t look back once. Not even a tiny glance till he vanished.

And honestly, that annoyed me more than anything…and I don’t even know why.

I slid down the closed door until my ass hit the marble, legs trembling, thighs slick, holding the black card so tight.

---

After about several minute, I'm still here

God help me…

I don't know how long I stayed on the floor.

Minutes. Maybe an hour.

The floor was cold against my thighs, but the rest of me was burning. My panties were ruined. Actually ruined. I could feel the proof of what that stranger did to me with nothing but words and one thumb on my throat.

I hated him. No. I wanted him.

Both at the same time, so violently my teeth ached.

Eventually I dragged myself upstairs on shaky legs, the black card still cutting into my palm. I dropped it on the bathroom counter and stripped for a shower. The hot water hit my skin, and I closed my eyes, trying to wash him off.

But guess what—it didn’t work.

Every time I blinked I saw storm-gray eyes and that scar through his brow. I heard that growl again:

“Once I start, I don’t stop. And I’m already starving.”

My knees almost buckled.

I slapped the tile wall so hard my palm stung.

“Get a grip, Freya. You’re married. You have a child. You’re falling apart, and some tattooed gym bro just mind-fucked you in your own doorway.”

I got out, wrapped myself in a towel, and tried to act like a functioning human.

I had three online meetings scheduled with my store managers—new inventory, supplier drama, and holiday displays. I threw on an oversized sweater and leggings, tied my wet hair into a messy bun, and opened my laptop on the couch.

Gladys’s face popped up first. The meeting started, and she was talking numbers, margins, and some shipments that arrived damaged. I nodded in all the right places, but the entire time my eyes kept drifting to the black card I’d carried downstairs like a lunatic.

State-of-the-art gym

Steve Hayes – Owner

address. a phone number and a tiny silver logo that looked like a broken crown.

Gladys asked me something twice. I blinked. “Sorry, repeat that?”

She gave me a worried look. “Ma’am, are you okay? You look… flushed.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, fanning myself even though the AC was on full blast.

Meeting two. Meeting three. Same thing. I was present in my body only. My brain was replaying the way his thumb pressed over my pulse like he already owned it.

At 2:17 p.m. my phone buzzed on the counter.

Honey: (Well, that’s Mark.)

Hey. Picking Luna up from school today. Taking her for ice cream and to the park so you can rest. Love you.

I stared at the text until the words blurred.

Love you.

The two words he's been saying to me while fucking his college friend behind me. And now he was using them like a hall pass to take my daughter to play happy family with his mistress.

I laughed. It came out ugly and broken.

I typed back before I could stop myself.

Me:

Funny. Always acting like you’re father of the year?

The three dots appeared. Vanished. Appeared again.

Mark: Freya, don’t start. I’m doing something nice.

I almost threw the phone across the room.

Nice.

Another text.

Mark: Lila’s coming too. Luna asked for her. Don’t make this weird.

My vision went red.

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. My hands were shaking too hard.

I snapped back to last night at 12am. Mark’s iPad wallpaper. Him, Luna, and Lila laughing under sunshine, and Lila’s hand on my daughter’s shoulder. and Mark’s arm around Lila’s waist, and it’s funny they are having another moment again.

Just thinking about that makes something feral snap inside my chest.

I swiped out and opened a new message. My thumb hovered… then I typed the number from the black card before I could talk myself out of it.

Me (2:29 p.m.):

What happens if I come tonight?

I hit send immediately, and I wanted to vomit.

The reply came in less than ten seconds.

Unknown: (Steve)

You already know what happens, princess.

The door locks at 8:15.

Don’t be late.

Or do.

My breath left my body in one shaky rush.

I stared at the screen until it went dark.

Then I stood up and opened my closet, shoved hangers aside like a madwoman, and pulled out the tightest black dress I owned—the one I bought two years ago hoping Mark would notice.

He never did.

Tonight someone else would.

I was done being the forgiving wife.

I was done being soft and apologetic and quiet.

Tonight at 8 p.m. I was walking into a state-of-the-art gym.

And I was going to let Steve Hayes ruin me in all the ways my husband never bothered to.

Mark wanted me fixed?

Fine.

I’d come back shattered in a brand-new way.