Disguised Fondness

1 Lately, my husband couldn't stop bringing up the new older woman in his department. "She dresses like she's going to a club, and her eyebrows look like they were drawn on with a thick Sharpie." I just smiled and kept quiet. A few days later, he came home fuming. "She actually begged me to fix her laptop today. Can't she do anything herself? It's exhausting." I handed him a bowl of fresh fruit. "She's new. Just give her a hand." "She's almost forty and still acts like a helpless teenager. Every sentence starts with 'Oh, silly me.' It makes me want to throw up." He took a aggressive bite of an apple. "And she's so slow. I'm constantly cleaning up her messes." "If it bothers you that much," I asked, "why don't you ask your manager for a new partner?" He shook his head, sighing. "Forget it. Life's tough for her. She's a single mom." Then came the night he staggered home drunk, muttering under his breath, "Brenda's son had a fever tonight. She was sobbing her eyes out... I had to drive them to the ER." I handed him a glass of water. "I thought you hated her." He closed his eyes, slurring his words. "I do... I just hate how she tries to carry everything on her own." My heart sank into my stomach. When a man starts dreaming about another woman, whether it's in his heart or his bed, he's already checked out of the marriage. … The next morning, Lucas was mostly sober, propped up against the headboard scrolling through his phone. His thumb flicked rapidly across the screen, his face darkening by the second. Before I could say a word, he blurted out in frustration, "Is this woman completely brainless? Three messages first thing in the morning just to ask how to fill out a spreadsheet." I nonchalantly replied, "She could ask any other coworker. Why only you?" "Because she's needy," Lucas scoffed, his tone dripping with disgust. "She can't handle basic tasks. It's 'Lucas, please help me' all day long. Gives me skin crawls." I turned to look him in the eye. "If she annoys you so much, just ignore her." Lucas stiffened for a fraction of a second before adopting a reasonable posture. "We work in the same cubicle cluster. Ignoring her would make things way too awkward." "Didn't you say she was fake and disgusting?" I asked softly. "She is fake, but she's genuinely miserable too." He shrugged. "Her kid was burning up yesterday. She broke down crying right in front of me. I couldn't just turn a cold shoulder." I stared at him. "So you drove her to the hospital in the middle of the night and picked up her medical bill?" Lucas waved a hand dismissively. "It was just a couple hundred bucks. We're teammates, it's no big deal." I pulled out my phone, opened the screenshots of his bank statements from last night, and held them in front of his face. "Twenty-four transfers in a single month. Boba tea, bakery deliveries, pediatric meds. You paid for all of it. Just being a good teammate?" Lucas shoved my phone away, his temper flaring. "Josie, can you stop looking for trouble where there isn't any?!" "Checking our accounts is looking for trouble?" I countered. He scoffed, his eyes filled with impatience and quiet contempt. "You don't even work a real job. You sit at home all day staring at me. Is this your idea of fun? I work my ass off to support this household, and all you do is sit around doubting me?" "I do freelance graphic design," I said quietly. "I'm not sitting around idle." He didn't buy it for a second. "Oh, please. Drawing a couple of pictures is a breeze. Stop inflating your ego. Everyone knows you're just unemployed and living off my paycheck. Stop throwing tantrums. It's exhausting." I didn't argue further. At noon, trying to offer an olive branch, he opened his food delivery app. "What do you want for lunch? My treat, somewhere nice." "Let's get Cajun seafood," I said offhandedly. "Extra buttery, super spicy." Lucas instantly shot it down. "No way. Too greasy and unhealthy." I looked at him, puzzled. "That used to be your favorite." "That was then. Things are different now." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could catch himself. "Brenda said greasy food causes stomach cancer. She keeps her diet extremely clean and disciplined." The air in the room instantly turned ice-cold. I fixed my gaze on him. "You sure pay close attention to her." Lucas dodged my eyes, clearing his throat nervously. "She rattles on about it every day at the office. My ears are practically numb from listening to her." Before I could press him, his phone lit up on the coffee table. A banner notification popped onto the screen: Thanks again for taking us to the hospital last night~ I made some homemade rib soup today, I'll bring some over for you tomorrow! I looked up at Lucas. 2 Lucas frantically lunged forward and slammed his phone face-down on the couch. "She's just being overly polite." I didn't say a word, keeping my eyes fixed on his panicked face. Unsettled by my silence, Lucas sat up straight, crossing his arms in defensive anger. "It's just a container of soup! It's basic etiquette between coworkers. Why do you always jump to crazy conclusions?" A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "So a bowl of soup makes up for a month's worth of bills you paid for her?" "Josie!" Lucas raised his voice, veins popping on his neck. "Do you really have to pick a fight over every tiny detail?" My voice remained level, though my heart felt completely hollow. "You used to talk so much trash about her. But your actions tell a completely different story." "You rushed her kid to the ER, paid her bills, and memorized her whole diet plan." "Lucas, do you even know what professional boundaries look like anymore?" The question caught him off guard. He swallowed hard. "I'm just soft-hearted! I can't turn my back when someone's suffering. Why is your mind so toxic? Why do you always assume the worst?" "Is my mind toxic, or are you crossing lines?" I stood up, looking down at him. "You claim to despise her, yet you act more devoted to her than anyone else." "Does that sound normal to you?" His posture shrank a little, his voice losing its sting. "We are strictly coworkers. Stop making up stories and tearing this house apart." I looked straight into his soul. "When you used to come home from work, you'd share funny stories about your day with me. Now? Every single word out of your mouth is about her. Your complaints are about her, and your sympathy is for her." Lucas fell silent, his face turning an ugly shade of red. "I know work is stressful," I continued, "but I will not tolerate you crossing marital boundaries under the guise of being a good Samaritan." "I..." He opened his mouth, stammered for a moment, and finally choked out, "I know where the line is. Just trust me." Without waiting for my reply, he grabbed his jacket from the rack. "I'm going back to the office to work late. We both need to cool off." By evening, Lucas returned right on cue, carrying a thermal tote bag in his hand. He caught my eye as he stepped through the front door, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Brenda forced this on me. I couldn't say no without being rude." I said impassively, "Did she stay late at the office too, just to hand-deliver soup to you?" He set the container down on the counter and walked over, his tone noticeably softer. "She was putting in overtime too. You know how clumsy she is with her work, she can never finish on time." "Look, I was out of line this morning. I promise I'll keep my distance from now on, okay? Don't be mad." At that exact moment, his phone chimed again. A photo flashed on his screen showing a young boy playing with blocks. The caption read: My little guy is feeling so much better today, all thanks to you~ You should bring your wife over for dinner sometime! Lucas picked up his phone and thrust the screen right into my face. "See? If there was anything shady going on between us, would she be inviting you over?" A gentle, reassuring smile spread across his face, a smile I hadn't seen in months. 3 I didn't take the bait. Taking my silence as acceptance, he eagerly pulled out a bowl and began pouring the broth. "Come on, smell this. Brenda's rib soup actually smells amazing. Give it a taste." I remained seated, unmoving. "Josie?" He stepped over, offering the steaming bowl with both hands. "Give me a break here. She even asked you over to her place. What else could you possibly be worried about?" I looked up at him. "Fine. Let me go tomorrow night then." Lucas froze, the bowl hovering in mid-air. I smiled calmly. "Tomorrow evening, after work, we'll head over together. I'd love to meet the little boy you saved." Lucas slammed the bowl down onto the dining table, broth splashing over the rim. "Are you doing this just to pick a fight? Going there with that attitude is just going to ruin everyone's night!" I locked eyes with him. "What are you hiding? Afraid I'll catch you red-handed?" "You!" Lucas was fuming. "I've explained this a thousand times, she's just a coworker! If you don't believe me, I'll call her right now and let her tell you herself!" He ripped his phone out of his pocket and hit speakerphone. It rang three times before a smooth, velvety voice echoed through the speaker. "Lucas-bear~" Brenda's voice was honeyed and playful. "Why are you calling me at this hour? Is the soup that good? Are you calling to shower me with compliments?" Lucas's entire face turned stiff as a board. "Brenda, my wife is right here. She wants to say hi." The line went dead silent for a full second. "Oh my gosh! Hey girl!" Brenda's tone instantly shifted into loud, hyper-friendly enthusiasm. "Hi, hi! I've been dying to meet you! Lucas brags about how pretty and talented you are all the time at work. I thought he was exaggerating, haha!" I spoke up neutrally. "Brenda, the soup is nice. Thanks." "Oh, it's nothing! Lucas takes such good care of me at work, a bowl of soup is the least I could do!" She let out a loud, airy laugh. "We're just good buddies at the office. He just takes pity on me being a single mom and helps out a bit extra." "I see," I said slowly. "I'm just curious, Brenda. You call him 'Lucas-bear', and he calls you 'Brenda'. Don't you think the dynamic is a little weird?" There was another awkward pause on the line. Lucas jumped in frantically to smooth things over. "She's just joking around, don't take it seriously." "Yeah, I just blab without thinking sometimes, don't mind me!" Brenda added quickly. "I really have to host you for dinner at my place soon. I'll cook a feast to make it up to you!" "Great. Tomorrow night then," I said. A flash of panic bled through her tone. "Tomorrow? Uh... I might have to order takeout then..." "It's a date," I cut in. I ended the call. Lucas slid his phone back into his pocket, wearing a triumphant look. "See? She told you herself, strictly professional. What more do you want?" I didn't answer. I picked up the spoon, dipped it into the soup, and took a small sip. "How is it?" He leaned in, expectant. "It's fine," I set the spoon down. "A little too gamey for my taste." 4 The next evening, I arrived at Brenda's apartment complex early. Lucas joined me after finishing his shift, carrying a gift box of organic milk and a bag of high-end fruit. When he saw my empty hands, his eyebrows pulled into a tight knot. "You came empty-handed? She's hosting us for dinner, the least you could do is bring a gift." I glanced at the items in his hands. "You brought enough for the both of us." His face darkened, but he swallowed his frustration and didn't push further. It was an old complex without an elevator. Lucas led the way up the stairs with practiced familiarity. Reaching door 603, he raised his hand and knocked. The door swung open almost instantly. "Lucas-bear is here!" Brenda stood there wearing a white lace dress, her makeup meticulously applied. When her eyes landed on me standing right behind him, her smile faltered for a fraction of a second before expanding into a broad, welcoming grin. "Oh, welcome, welcome! Come on in!" I offered a polite smile. "Thanks for having us, Brenda." Inside, a little boy caught sight of Lucas. His eyes lit up instantly, and he sprinted across the living room with open arms. "Daddy!" Lucas's face drained of color in an instant. I unhurriedly slipped into a pair of disposable hotel slippers I had brought along. Brenda yanked the boy back by his arm, her tone sharp. "Sweetie! Call him Uncle Lucas! How many times do I have to tell you?!" The boy pouted, tears welling up in his eyes. "But he IS Daddy... When I had a fever, he held me all night..." Lucas whipped his head toward me, his eyes wide with desperation. "He's just a kid, he doesn't know any better. Kids in single-parent homes call any guy 'Daddy'. Don't overthink it." I looked down at the entry mat. Resting beside Brenda's heels was a pair of faded blue men's house slippers. Noticing where my eyes were pinned, Lucas scrambled to explain, "She bought those for her dad a while ago. Her dad stayed over once." Brenda chimed in frantically, "Yes, exactly! My father stayed here for a few days a couple of months back!" I said nothing. Dinner was uncomfortable to say the least. The little boy insisted on sitting right next to Lucas. Lucas didn't reject him. He naturally scooped food into the boy's bowl and wiped sauce off the kid's chin with practiced ease. "He sure is attached to you," I remarked with a faint smirk. Brenda let out an awkward laugh. "Yeah, Lucas is just so great with kids. Naturally, he loves him." The boy raised his chubby face, asking Lucas in a sweet, high-pitched voice, "Daddy, can you give me a bath tonight? That bubble bath you bought me last time was so much fun!" The air in the dining room instantly turned to concrete. Lucas's fork froze in mid-air. His face cycled through a spectrum of ghost-white and deep crimson. He offered me a forced, stiff laugh. "Last Friday she was stuck working late, so she asked me to babysit for an hour... I just gave him a quick wash while waiting. Don't twist it into something bad." Brenda's voice pitched an octave higher. "Yes! I was totally drowning in work and had no choice! Please don't misunderstand, it was literally just that one time!" I nodded calmly. "I see." The boy, completely oblivious, chipped in again. "Daddy, when are you moving in with us? Mommy said you're going to live with us soon!" Brenda bolted up from her chair, her voice shrill and panicked. "Stop talking nonsense!" Frightened by her outburst, the boy burst into tears, big drops rolling down his cheeks. Instinctively, Lucas reached over to pull the crying child into his arms, patting his back softly. "Shh, don't cry, buddy. Uncle Lucas can't live here. Uncle Lucas has his own home." I set my chopsticks down cleanly on the table and looked straight at him. "Have you stayed the night here?" Over the past six months, he had been away on "business trips" dozens of times. "No!" The answer shot out of his mouth, but his voice lacked conviction. "Just... occasionally... when she was overwhelmed, I stayed to help watch the kid. Josie, don't take a four-year-old's ramblings seriously. What does he know?" Brenda scrambled over, nodding vigorously. "Yes! My boy just lacks a father figure, so he calls anyone who's nice to him 'Daddy'! He's called several guys in our apartment building 'Daddy', I swear!" I leaned back against my chair, sweeping my cold gaze back and forth between the two of them. "Oh? He calls every guy he sees 'Daddy'?" I let out a low, chilling laugh. "Then I'd really love to know... when was the last time you invited one of those other 'daddies' over to take care of your household?" 5 Brenda's face froze mid-expression. Lucas lost his temper completely. "Josie! Stop picking on her! She was nice enough to cook us dinner, why do you have to be so aggressive and mean?!" I stood up. "This meal is completely unappetizing. Enjoy yourselves." I turned on my heel and walked toward the exit. Lucas yelled my name behind me, but I didn't bother turning back. Standing in the dimly lit stairwell, I pulled out my phone and looked at the photo I had snapped earlier of the men's slippers by the door. Then I locked the screen and walked down the steps, one by one. Six flights of stairs. Three of the motion-sensor lights were broken, plunging the path into shadow. Lucas never ran down to chase after me. In fact, he didn't come home at all that night. I pulled out my phone and dialed my best friend, Gwen. "Gwen, hook me up with a top-tier divorce attorney. Someone who specializes in asset division." "Did that scumbag actually cheat on you?" "I don't have concrete physical proof yet, but I need to draw my battle lines." That night, I cleared all of Lucas's clothes and personal belongings out of the master bedroom and dumped them into the home office. At 7:00 AM the next morning, the front door clicked open. Lucas walked in. I was sitting right on the living room sofa, waiting. When he caught sight of me, his footsteps faltered. "You didn't sleep?" "We need to talk," I said. He slipped off his shoes and walked over. A distinct scent drifted off him, not Brenda's heavy perfume, but a fresh, clean scent of hotel body wash. He had showered somewhere else. "He's just a little kid," Lucas said, sitting on the armchair opposite me. "He calls everyone Daddy. It doesn't mean anything. Josie, I don't want to fight. Let's just move past this and live our lives." "Lucas," I looked up, catching his eye. "When exactly did you decide that my feelings don't matter anymore?" He blinked, caught off guard. "Does a man constantly bring up another woman for no reason?" I spoke slowly, placing emphasis on every single word. "You complained about her, you mocked her, because she was consuming every corner of your mind." "You couldn't stop yourself from running errands for her. But did you spend even a single second thinking about how that would make me feel?" Lucas opened his mouth, but no words came out. "You didn't think about me at all," I answered for him. "Or maybe you did, but you simply didn't care." "That's not true..." "I'm not finished," I cut him off. "You told me I don't work a real job. In your eyes, I'm just a useless housewife living off your charity, someone who has no right to question you." His face flushed crimson, then turned pale. Finally, he snapped, "What do you want from me then?! Do you want me to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness? Do you want me to block Brenda right now? Name it, and I'll do it!" "No need," I stood up calmly. "Tomorrow morning at nine, meet me at the courthouse for divorce filing." Lucas shot up from his seat, shouting, "Are you out of your mind?! You want a divorce over a stupid misunderstanding?!" "I didn't sleep with her!" He roared at the top of his lungs. I looked at him with complete detachment. "Lucas, maybe you didn't physically cheat, but you lost your way." "And I am not your GPS. I have zero obligation to stand around waiting for you to recalibrate." Lucas slammed the door so hard on his way out that the wall art shuddered. By late afternoon, the doorbell rang. "Josie!" Lucas's younger sister, Ellie, stood outside carrying a bouquet of fresh white lilies. I stepped aside to let her in. "Did Lucas send you?" She gave me a timid, awkward smile. "My brother is terrible with words. He was terrified he'd say the wrong thing and make it worse, so he begged me to come over and smooth things over. Honestly, Josie, aren't you being a little too sensitive? My brother is just a pushover who can't say no. He doesn't have a devious bone in his body." I looked at her without saying a word. "Look, let me be real with you," Ellie continued, pulling out all the stops. "No matter what, doesn't he hand his paycheck over to you every month? As long as a man hasn't actually cheated on you in bed, you should just turn a blind eye." I let out a faint, dry laugh. "Ellie, if your husband was emotionally cheating on you, would you just turn a blind eye?" Ellie waved her hand dismissively. "Emotional cheating isn't real cheating. You can't even take that to court. Why get so hung up on it?" I looked deep into her eyes and spoke in a low, measured voice. "How about I call your husband right now and tell him about your emotional affair with your college ex? Want to bet if he'll get hung up on it?" Ellie's smile evaporated instantly. Her face turned ghost-white. "When the knife isn't sticking into your own chest, it's easy to tell someone else not to bleed," I said quietly. "You're telling me to let it go only because you aren't the one getting stabbed." Before she could form a reply, an unknown number vibrated frantically on my phone screen. I answered and put it on speaker. "Josie!" It was Brenda's voice, hyperventilating and sob-riddled. "Lucas is in terrible shape! His life is in danger!"