My Husband Cheated on Me With Secretary, Then Karma Crushed Him Back – Story of the Day

Shirley’s world crumbles when she catches her husband, Brody, flaunting his mistress at their work and he threatens to divorce her and take everything. Heartbroken and homeless, Shirley rediscovers her fighting spirit when her dashing new boss seems to be determined to punish her for a past mistake.

My husband is fondling his secretary in front of everyone we work with and there's nothing I can do but watch. I knew things were bad between us recently, but I never imagined Brody would cheat on me, and make such a public display of it, too. My hands shake, making the spoons fall from the plate in my hands to the floor, and still, Brody and that witch, Lila, remain oblivious to me.

Brody smirked up at Lila, perched on his desk, as he slid one hand up her legs, his fingers running along the hem of her skirt. Lila flipped her hair over her shoulder and raised her hand to caress his cheek. Brody's eyes never left hers as he tilted his head sideways to press a kiss to Lila's wrist. And Shirley was still frozen in place, the slice of cake she'd brought to share with Brody over lunch almost forgotten in her hands.

Shirley's heart pounded in her chest, her initial shock giving way to a rising tide of anger and humiliation as she realized everyone was watching her. As Shirley glanced around the bullpen, she noticed the disapproving looks of some and quickly averted gazes of others. The usual cacophony of ringing phones and clicking keyboards fell into an uncomfortable hush, the air thick with tension and unspoken judgments.

The office watched, a collective breath held, as Shirley's shock morphed into action. With a determined stride, she closed the distance between them, her voice slicing through the awkward silence.

"Brody, what's going on here?" Shirley's words were sharp, a stark contrast to the soft-hearted woman most knew her to be.

Brody turned, his expression morphing into one of annoyance masked as innocence. "What's your problem, Shirley? We're just discussing work."

Shirley's gaze darted between Brody and Lila, the latter smirking with venomous satisfaction. The office's eyes were on her, some filled with sympathy, others with the morbid curiosity that human nature couldn't resist. Shirley felt a surge of defiance, unwilling to be the victim in her own life story.

"This is how you discuss work?" Shirley's voice rose, tinged with both incredulity and rage. "By putting your hands up her skirt? In front of everyone?"

"Shirley, don't make a scene," Brody hissed, frowning as he glanced around at the sea of faces openly watching the confrontation.

"Oh, I'm not the one making a scene," Shirley said, determined to stand her ground. "We need to talk about this. In private. So get up and come with me, now!"

Brody's face reddened, his composure slipping into open anger as he leaped to his feet and faced off with Shirley.

"You don't get to order me around, Shirley. Not here, not anywhere," he spat, his voice rising, drawing even more attention to the already public spectacle. "A woman who looks like you should be grateful I'm coming home at all, but this… this disrespect is the last straw. I'm filing for divorce, today. I'll take the house and leave you with the nothing you deserve."

Shirley's response was swift, fueled by shock and the instinct to protect what was rightfully hers. "You can't take my house. It was my parents'. You have no claim over it," she countered, clinging to the one piece of legal knowledge she hoped would shield her from his threats.

But Brody just smiled cruelly. "Did you forget you're married to a lawyer? Not only will I take the house, I'll move Lila in before you can even blink." He leaned in closer then, his next words spoken in a hush. "And you can be sure we'll celebrate on every single surface in every single room."

The venom in Brody's voice as he painted that disgusting mental image sent a chill down Shirley's spine and left her dumbstruck. She fought to hold back tears as he took off his wedding ring and forced it into the slice of cake she'd almost forgotten she was carrying. The symbol of their marriage sank into the soft dessert, an act so final it left her breathless.

"Keep that. Maybe you can pawn it for enough money to get a dog house where you can shovel your cake and chocolates into your mouth," Brody finished.

Then, with a smug look that made Shirley's stomach churn, Brody turned on his heel, reached for Lila, and with a possessive grip, led her towards the bathrooms. Their intention was unmistakable, their disregard for decency or the sanctity of their marriage flaunted with every step they took away from her.

The murmurs around me grew louder, a mix of disbelief and pity, but all I felt was the hollow emptiness of my world crumbling beneath me. The man I'd dedicated seven years of my life to, for better or worse, had just discarded our marriage as easily as a piece of trash.

The cheap hotel room felt suffocating, its walls seeming to close in on Shirley as she lay sprawled on the lumpy, uncomfortable bed. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast long shadows, mirroring the darkness that had settled in her heart. Around her, scattered remnants of comfort food wrappers and the constant drone of the TV provided a backdrop to her turmoil, but they did little to distract her from the pain.

Tears streamed down her face, unchecked and unending, as she replayed the day's events over and over in her mind. How had Brody, the man she vowed to spend her life with, transformed into this stranger? This cruel person who flaunted his infidelity with such disregard for her feelings. When did the shift happen? Shirley searched her memories for a sign, a moment when the man she loved started slipping away, turning into the monster she saw today.

With each thought, her self-esteem plummeted further. She stared at her reflection in the mirror across the room, barely recognizing the woman staring back at her. Had she really let herself go? Was it her fault that Brody had turned to Lila? These questions gnawed at her, feeding the insecurities that she had fought so hard to overcome. The weight of her perceived failures pressed down on her, suffocating, relentless.

Suddenly, a surge of anger and frustration overwhelmed her. Shirley grabbed the nearest pillow and punched it, raining blow after blow down on the stuffing as she let out a primal sound of anguish. The scream turned into sobs, each one a raw expression of her pain, her betrayal, her shattered world.

She might've carried on for hours if someone hadn't started banging at the door.

At first, she tried to ignore it, attributing the noise to a neighbor's late-night disruption or perhaps a hotel staff member. But the banging persisted, growing louder, more insistent. With a heavy sigh, Shirley pushed herself off the bed, her limbs heavy with despair, and trudged towards the door.

"What?" she demanded, flinging the door open to reveal a man standing in the dimly lit hallway. His expression was one of concern, but it quickly morphed into something else upon seeing Shirley's tear-streaked face.

"I heard... I thought I heard a cry for help," he stammered, his gaze flitting past her to the disarray inside her room.

Shirley's heart raced, a mix of embarrassment and anger surging through her. "Well, you heard wrong. Unless you can help me keep my house from the husband who's divorcing me, go away," she snapped, her voice brittle.

The man's eyebrows rose, taken aback by her sharpness. Then, something in his demeanor shifted, and he said, "I can't help with that. But now, I can see why he's divorcing you." With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Shirley's mouth fell open in shock. The audacity of his words stung, igniting a fire within her she hadn't felt in hours.

"What did you say to me?" she called after him, stepping into the hallway.

He didn't stop, didn't even look back as he reached the door to the room next door. Shirley, fueled by a sudden rush of anger and hurt, followed him, refusing to let the insult slide. As he opened his door and stepped inside, Shirley rushed up, her hand shooting out to prevent the door from closing.

"I'm not letting you walk away after saying something like that," Shirley asserted, her eyes blazing. "How dare you! I may be fat and frumpy, but you have no right to judge me, not when you look like you haven't brushed your hair in weeks."

In the charged silence that followed her bold stand, Shirley's breaths came fast and uneven. The man finally turned to face her, his expression one of frustration now mingled with a hint of regret. Shirley, heart pounding, realized this confrontation might not solve her problems, but she refused to be diminished further—not by Brody, not by this stranger, not by anyone.

The man, his expression tight with annoyance, finally spoke, "I never judged your appearance. I was concerned about the wailing coming from your room, not critical of how you look," he attempted to clarify, but Shirley was past the point of listening.

She launched into a tirade, her words a mixture of anger and pain. "Just because I've put on a few pounds since I got married, and I don't dress like I'm out to seduce someone every day, doesn't mean I deserve to be treated like trash. Not by you, not by anyone!"

Her voice broke, the last of her defenses crumbling as she stood there, laid bare by her admissions. To her surprise, the man paused, something akin to understanding flashing in his eyes.

"You're right. You don't deserve that," he conceded, his voice softer now.

Shirley was momentarily stunned, the fight draining out of her as his words registered. But before she could process or respond, he quickly stepped back, shutting the door in her face with a firmness that allowed no room for further conversation.

Indignation surged through Shirley once more.

"I was still yelling at you!" she shouted at the closed door, the absurdity of her statement lost in her frustration.

In a fit of anger, she kicked the door; the impact sending a jolt of pain through her foot. She hobbled back to her room, nursing her injured foot, and muttering a series of choice cuss words under her breath.

She collapsed onto the floor, surrounded by the empty wrappers from candy and cakes, and couldn't help but feel pathetic. Here she was, screaming at strangers, trying to fill the void in her heart with sweets that had just left her with a vaguely nauseous feeling, and with no hope for the future.

She sniffed. No, she wouldn't let Brody or that judgemental jerk get to her. She had stood up for herself, albeit to a stranger who knew nothing of her struggles, and would continue to do so. Somehow, she'd find a way to fight Brody and keep her house.

And if she couldn't find a way, she'd burn it down before she let him and Lila keep it.

The morning after her confrontation at the hotel, Shirley limped into the office, her injured foot a painful reminder of last night's outburst. The day promised the usual flurry of legal briefs and client meetings, but a note on her desk caught her eye, jolting her back to reality: Reminder: Mr. Williams arrives today.

"Great, just what I need, a new boss," Shirley muttered under her breath, the prospect of adapting to a new boss adding another layer of stress to her already tumultuous life. "I wonder what time he's going to get in."

"Your new boss is already here," came a voice from behind her, startlingly familiar and not at all welcome. "You must be my kind and helpful secretary, Shirley."

Shirley froze, then slowly turned in her chair, her heart sinking as she came face-to-face with the last person she expected—or wanted—to see. The man from the hotel, the very source of her current frustration and pain, stood before her, dressed in a well-cut suit. His hair was still wild, but she couldn’t help thinking that he cleaned up really well.

The realization hit her like a wave: the stranger she had yelled at, the man she had thought she would never see again, was Mr. Williams, her new boss!

For a moment, Shirley was speechless, her mind racing to reconcile the frumpy man from the night before with the dashing professional standing before her. The embarrassment flushed her cheeks a deep red, and she quickly gathered her wits to apologize.

"I'm so sorry about last night. I—"

But Mr. Williams wasn't interested in her apologies. His expression was stern, the previous night's fleeting understanding replaced by a professional detachment.

"Your behavior was unacceptable. I expect better from my employees," he said, cutting her off.

Shirley's apology died on her lips, replaced by a silent acknowledgment of the rebuke. She nodded, chastened, as Mr. Williams continued, "I need the case file for Richardson vs. Richardson."

I couldn't believe it. This unexpected twist in my already complicated life was the last thing I needed, yet here I was, forced to make nice and be respectful to a man I'd screamed at the previous night. They say there's no coming back from a bad first impression but if I wanted to keep my job, I'd have to try.

Shirley's morning rapidly deteriorated. The Richardson vs. Richardson file was a tough divorce case that had been passed around the office for many secretaries and paralegals to work on. And it soon became apparent that whoever last worked on it, didn't return it to its proper place in the filing system. Shirley soon had a mountain of file folders and papers littering her desk, which she searched through in a whirlwind of desperation.

As she reached for what she hoped was the correct file, her hand brushed against a precariously placed stack of folders, sending them cascading to the floor in a dramatic flurry. The sound of her misfortune echoed through the quiet office space. Before she could even begin to rectify the mess, Mr. Williams reappeared, his presence looming over her like a dark cloud.

"What's taking so long?" he asked, his tone laced with impatience. "I asked you to bring me the case file, not scatter it across the floor."

"I—I have it here," she stammered, finally locating the correct file amidst the chaos and thrusting it into his hands with a mixture of relief and dread.

Mr. Williams took the file, his gaze sweeping over the disaster area that was once an orderly corner of the office.

"This is quite the mess. It seems tidiness isn't your strong suit," he remarked dryly, the snide comment adding insult to injury as he turned on his heel and retreated to his office.

Shirley's heart sank. As she knelt on the floor, attempting to regain some semblance of order, the last thing she needed was an audience. Yet, fate seemed intent on adding to her humiliation. Brody, her soon-to-be-ex-husband, chose that moment to emerge from the elevator, Lila by his side. Their laughter rang out, mocking, as they caught sight of Shirley in her moment of vulnerability.

The sting of their amusement cut deep, but it also ignited a spark within Shirley. A resolve formed, hard and fast. She was done—done with letting others dictate her worth, done with being the butt of their cruel jokes. As she collected the last of the files, her decision was clear.

She would not allow Mr. Williams or anyone else to torment her. And she certainly had no desire to remain in an office that housed the very source of her deepest pain.

With newfound determination, Shirley rose from the floor, her injured foot a dull ache that paled in comparison to the strength of her resolve. She would start anew, away from the judgmental eyes of her new boss and the twisted joy of her estranged husband and his mistress. This chapter of her life was closing, and Shirley was ready to turn the page.

A few minutes later, Shirley marched into Mr. Williams' office, her resignation letter fluttering in her trembling hand. She didn't knock; the situation had escalated beyond the courtesies of office decorum.

Mr. Williams looked up, surprise evident on his face. "Weren't you told that a secretary is supposed to knock before entering her boss's office?"

"I'm not your secretary anymore." Shirley placed the paper down on the desk in front of him. "I resign."

Mr. Williams barely glanced at her as he slid the page back across the desk. "Get back to work on the Richardson case, Shirley."

"No." Shirley determinedly pushed the letter back to him. "I'm leaving, so sign my resignation."

Mr. Williams met her gaze then and held it. "I won't sign this," he drawled. "I'm not accepting your resignation."

"You have to!" Shirley yelled. "It's right in front of you, so just sign the darn paper and let me go."

He seemed shocked by the force in Shirley's voice. He lifted her resignation letter and unceremoniously crumpled it into a ball. Shirley could do nothing but watch in shock as he rose from his chair, walked over to the window, and tossed her balled-up resignation outside. The action was so unexpected, so dismissive, that Shirley momentarily lost her breath.

"It's not in front of me anymore," Mr. Williams said smugly.

"Then I'll write another one." Shirley dropped into the visitor's chair, grabbed a blank piece of paper and Mr. Williams’s pen, and started writing.

But as I wrote, all the well-worded reasons for my resignation that I'd put into the original letter slipped from my mind. My hand shook and my writing wobbled as all the hurt and frustration I'd been trying so hard to contain burst forth with all the fury and toxicity of Old Faithful. Tears poured down my face as I slammed the pen down on Mr. Williams’s desk and lifted my head to glare at him.

"Look, I just can't take it anymore," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "First, it was my husband, and now you. What is it with men like you with your stupid suits, your money, and your power that makes you think you can control my life like you own me? That you can use me up and throw me away when I'm no longer useful?"

Mr. Williams's demeanor shifted as he listened to Shirley's outpouring of raw, unfiltered pain. Once her words broke down into unintelligible sobs, he stood and circled to sit on the edge of the desk closest to her. The distance he closed felt significant, not just in the physical space of the office but in the chasm of misunderstanding and pain between them.

"Just let me go," she pleaded, looking up at him. "Nobody should have to suffer like this."

"I agree, but I'm not like him, Shirley. I'm not refusing to accept your resignation because I want to bully you, or because I take some kind of sick pleasure from seeing others suffer."

"Then why—"

Shirley broke off when Mr. Williams took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed at her tears. She was so taken aback by the unexpected kindness that she momentarily forgot her anger and hurt.

"I can't let you go because I like you, Shirley," Nathan insisted, his voice carrying a depth of sincerity that Shirley hadn't expected.

His words, meant to comfort, instead sowed seeds of confusion within her. Given her recent experiences, Shirley found it hard to believe that there was anything about her to like, especially from someone who had just witnessed her at her lowest.

"You don't even know me," Shirley replied, "and all you've done is ridicule me for dropping folders and being rude to you last night when we didn't even know each other and, by the way, you were mean to me then too!" Shirley shook her head. "If you like me, then you sure have a weird way of showing it, Mr. Williams."

"Nathan, call me Nathan. And you're dead right, I do have a weird way of showing that I like people, but it doesn't mean the feeling is any less genuine. You have fire, and the guts to stand up for what's right, the wisdom to realize you aren't at fault for the awful way other people treat you. I may not know you very well yet, but I can't help but admire what I've seen so far."

All I could do was stare at him. The warmth in his eyes, tempered by the seriousness of the conversation, coupled with the things he said… it shifted something deep inside me. Never before had I felt so exposed and at the same time, so safe. My heart was still broken but the way he looked at me then made the pieces feel less jagged and fragile, made me feel like maybe I could be okay again one day.

But it also awoke a sense of uncertainty. This man was looking at me and drying my tears in a way that suggested his 'liking' for me might not be strictly professional, and I didn't know what to make of that. The fact that this all came up when I tried to resign didn't seem coincidental either.

In the back of my mind, Brody's voice rang out as I recalled vicious words he'd hurled at me during an argument.

"Be grateful that I love you, Shirley, because nobody else ever could. They're just manipulating you, making you think they care because they need you. You're nothing but a tool to be used."

We'd been arguing about a friend I'd made at a previous job, a man that Brody had been extremely jealous of. It was a long time ago, but the words remained, a clinging doubt that crept into every relationship I'd made since then. As I watched Mr. Williams—Nathan—return to his desk, I couldn't help but wonder what he truly wanted from me.

The morning sun had barely kissed the skyline when Shirley arrived at the office, her thoughts a tangled web of the previous day's revelations and uncertainties. The air held a crisp promise of new beginnings, or so Shirley hoped, clinging to a sliver of optimism amidst the chaos of her personal life.

Nathan's arrival not long after her own disrupted the fragile calm she had cultivated. He approached her desk with two coffees in hand, offering one to her with a smile that seemed genuinely aimed at brightening her day.

"Good morning, Shirley. I thought you could use a pick-me-up," he said, his tone light, trying to spark a casual conversation.

Shirley was taken aback by the gesture, a warm flutter of gratitude momentarily easing the heaviness in her chest. She managed a small smile, the first genuine one in days, however, the fragile bubble of normalcy burst as Brody and Lila stepped off the elevator.

They groped each other like horny teenagers, their lust for one another blatantly displayed for all to see, including Shirley. The sight was a gut punch, the realization that Brody was moving Lila into the house they had shared—a house filled with memories, both bitter and sweet—sent a wave of nausea through Shirley.

Lila's smirk as they passed Shirley was the proverbial salt in the wound, a deliberate act of cruelty that left Shirley reeling. The mix of emotions that surged through her was overwhelming: betrayal, loss, humiliation, and an undercurrent of rage.

Nathan, still standing by her desk, seemed to sense the shift in Shirley's demeanor. His concern was palpable, but Shirley couldn't bear the weight of pity or the awkwardness of explaining her distress.

"Excuse me, I need to step out for a moment," she muttered, barely waiting for a response before hurrying away, seeking refuge in the bathroom's anonymity.

There, in the stark solitude, Shirley allowed herself a moment to breathe, to process the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume her. The contrast between Nathan's kindness and Brody's cruelty highlighted the complexity of her situation, leaving her heart aching and her mind racing with questions about what the future held.

She desperately wanted to make a run to the vending machine in the break room and get a candy bar, an urge that filled her with self-loathing. All she wanted was to feel better… no, to be better. How could she do that when Brody kept flaunting his affair in front of her?

Nathan stood rooted to the spot for a moment longer after Shirley hurried away, her distress obvious but the source of it remained a mystery. His gaze shifted to the man and woman who'd just stepped off the elevator, observing them as they disappeared into the bullpen.

Maybe it was hard for her to see two people being so affectionate and touchy-feely with each other when she was going through a difficult divorce. Before he could process his thoughts further, another legal secretary stormed past the couple and gave them a look of unbridled hatred and disgust. Nathan watched her pause, her gaze lingering on Shirley's empty desk with a mixture of sympathy and anger.

"Excuse me," Nathan called to her. "Who are those two, and why did seeing them together upset Shirley so much?"

The woman arched her eyebrows. "That's Brody, Shirley's husband, and that woman," she spat the word with venom, "is his mistress. He's flaunting their affair in front of Shirley, in front of all of us. It's disgusting, not to mention highly inappropriate."

A lightning bolt of shock tore through Nathan. No wonder seeing them together upset Shirley so much! It was awful enough to file for divorce over an affair but to display it so publicly? How did someone as sweet as Shirley ever end up with such a disgusting man? The hurt she must be feeling…

Nathan took a deep breath. The urge to protect Shirley was almost overwhelming. He wanted to march after Brody and deck him, and the sheer strength it took to prevent himself from doing just that was unexpected.

"I see," he murmured, the simple phrase a wholly inadequate expression of the intense emotions this situation sparked in him.

The secretary, still seething, added, "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if someone slipped something nasty into Brody's coffee one of these days. And I don't think anyone would be sorry to see him in distress either."

Nathan nodded, a thoughtful expression settling over his features. As he returned to his office, Nathan couldn't shake the image of Shirley's pained expression, nor the casual cruelty exhibited by Brody and his mistress. The dynamics of the office, the interpersonal relationships, and the challenges Shirley faced took on a new significance.

Sitting behind his desk, Nathan pondered his next steps. The situation was delicate, and his role as a boss—and perhaps, as something more to Shirley—complicated his involvement. Yet, the injustice of Shirley's situation, the blatant disrespect she endured, stirred something within him.

Nathan realized that, beyond the professional boundaries, he felt a personal investment in ensuring Shirley found the respect and support she deserved. The path forward was unclear, but Nathan was determined to make a positive difference in Shirley's life.

Later that day, Shirley entered Nathan's office with a stack of files for the Richardson case. As she placed the documents on his desk, she turned to leave, only to be stopped by Nathan's voice.

"Shirley, could you stay for a moment? I need help to organize these arguments for the case," Nathan said, his tone casual but with an underlying note that suggested he was looking for more than just professional assistance.

Shirley paused, then slowly turned back, a curious look on her face. "Sure, I can help. What do you need exactly?"

Nathan smiled, genuine warmth in his expression. "I'm trying to frame our argument more compellingly. I thought you could give me a fresh perspective."

As they worked together, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The tension that had lingered from their earlier encounters dissipated, replaced by a mutual focus on the task at hand. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on topics both related and unrelated to work.

"You know, I never took you for a jazz fan," Shirley remarked, a hint of surprise in her voice as Nathan hummed a familiar tune.

Nathan looked up, his smile widening. "There's a lot you don't know about me. Jazz is just the tip of the iceberg."

Shirley laughed, the sound lighter than she had felt in days. "Well, I guess we all have our surprises."

As the afternoon turned into evening and then stretched into the next day, Shirley found herself increasingly drawn to Nathan. His kindness, his unexpected sense of humor, and the glimpses of depth she hadn't anticipated all contributed to a growing attraction she struggled to reconcile with her wariness of his intentions.

But it all fell into place on Friday evening, when Nathan knocked on her hotel room door, asking for her help with his opening argument.

"I need to melt the judge's heart but I'm terrible at expressing my feelings." Nathan stared at Shirley, his gaze intense. "I… know what I want to say, but not how to get it out. I know it's late, but I need you, Shirley."

My heart sank. All this time I'd hoped this man saw something more in me but now I knew that he'd been playing me all along. All his kindness, all those soft looks I thought meant something more were just a ploy to make sure I'd always be there when he needed someone to write his opening arguments, do last-minute checks on depositions… I was a tool to him, nothing more.

And worst of all, I didn't have the strength to call him on it. It hurt too much to know that Brody had been right about people using me. Maybe he'd been right about everything.

"Okay, I'll take a look," Shirley muttered.

She started moving toward him, but her robe snagged on the bathroom doorknob, halting her progress with a jolt. The suddenness of the snag pulled her back towards the door, a small gasp escaping her lips.

Nathan was at her side in an instant.

Nathan's hand gently stroked against Shirley's waist as he helped disentangle her robe from the knob. The proximity, the warmth of his touch, sparked a surge of electricity through the air, a tension that was palpable and laden with unspoken possibilities.

Shirley barely dared to breathe as he stepped closer and brushed his thumb against her lip. The gesture was tender and intimate, and it sent a shiver down Shirley's spine.

"Chocolate," he muttered. His gaze locked onto hers, warm and filled with an emotion that made her stomach do flip-flops.

"Opening speech," Shirley replied, tearing her gaze away from his. "That's what you came here for, right?"

"No. I didn't come here tonight for the case," Nathan confessed, his voice low, charged with an emotion that mirrored Shirley's tumultuous feelings. "I came here for you, Shirley. It seems I think of you more than a boss should think of their employee. In fact, I can't get you out of my mind, and I know you're still married, but your husband is a liar, a cheater, and a cruel jerk."

"Just like every other man," Shirley replied.

"Not all men are like that." Nathan's fingers gently cupped her chin, tipping her face upwards to meet his gaze. "I'm not like that. I would never risk losing something as precious as what I feel for you."

Her breath hitched at his words, a mixture of surprise and a deep, resonating warmth filling her. Nathan's gaze held hers, steady and sincere. The vulnerability in his admission and the earnestness in his eyes dismantled the last of Shirley's defenses. She wanted to believe him, to allow herself this sliver of happiness amidst the chaos of her life.

They leaned towards each other, the distance closing, their breaths mingling, a kiss imminent—when a sudden knock at the door jolted them apart. The interruption was jarring, a stark reminder of the world outside their bubble of burgeoning emotion.

Shirley's heart raced, her emotions a whirlwind. Nathan's presence, his confession, offered a promise of something more, something genuine amidst the wreckage of her trust. It all imploded when she discovered who was waiting at the door for her.

Brody stood in the dimly lit hallway, his posture unsteady, eyes glassy—a clear sign that he'd been drinking. Anger flared within her, a stark contrast to the tender moment she and Nathan had just shared.

"What do you want, Brody?" she demanded, her voice sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.

"I need you, Shirley," Brody slurred, his words weaving through the air, heavy with desperation. "I've got nowhere else to go. Williams—your new boss—fired me. He's obviously jealous and feels threatened. My career... it's over."

His attempt to draw sympathy only fueled Shirley's fury. She couldn't believe he had the audacity to show up now, after everything.

"You made your bed, Brody. Now, lie in it," she retorted, trying to close the door, but Brody resisted, pushing his way into her space.

"Please, Shirley. I just... I need comfort," he whined, reaching for her in a clumsy attempt at affection. "I’ve missed you so much, baby."

"Don't. Touch. Me," she hissed, trying to push him away, but Brody was persistent, backing her against the wall in a move that was both desperate and aggressive.

The situation escalated quickly. Brody's drunken pleadings drowned Shirley's protests out when suddenly, the door swung open wider. Nathan stood there, his presence like a beacon of safety in the dark turmoil of the moment.

"Shirley, do you need help?" Nathan's voice was calm, but the undercurrent of concern was palpable.

The relief Shirley felt at seeing Nathan was immediate, a lifeline thrown to her amid the storm. Brody, sensing the shift in dynamics, straightened slightly, his drunken haze clearing just enough to recognize the threat Nathan posed to his current intentions.

"What's he doing here, Shirley?" Brody slurred, pointing accusingly at Nathan, his eyes narrowed with suspicion and jealousy. "Are you trying to take my wife away from me, too?"

"You don't own her." Nathan's response was calm, yet firm.

"I own her heart," Brody shot back with a smirk. "We've been married for… ten years, or seven, a long time either way, and she still loves me."

Shirley's jaw dropped. She fumbled to find the words to express how all the cruelty Brody had shown her had eroded any love she once had for him, but Nathan got there first. He stepped forward, his body a shield between her and Brody.

"She doesn't love you anymore. All you do is hurt her. That's all you seem capable of, Brody," Nathan said.

"That's a lie!" Brody shot back, his voice rising in anger. "She calls me, begging me to come back to her every day. Don't you, Shirley?"

"That's not true!" Shirley protested, but Nathan had already turned away, his expression unreadable.

My heart beat like drums as I watched Nathan walk away, and I knew I had to stop him. I reached for my jacket and started after him, but Brody grabbed me once more. His breath reeked of stale alcohol as he leaned in close, eyes gleaming like he'd just won a great battle.

"Come here, baby, let's—" he started, but Shirley shoved him away.

"I am not your baby! And if you touch me one more time, I'm going to file a harassment charge with the police!" Shirley yelled.

Before Brody could reply, Shirley took off down the hallway. She shrugged her coat on as she ran, hoping that somehow she could catch up to Nathan and make him see the truth.

A flurry of snow greeted Shirley as she rushed out into the hotel parking lot, the chill of the evening air did nothing to cool the heat of her emotions. She whirled around when she heard a car starting and rushed over to tap on the window. Nathan slowly lowered the window, the space between them charged with tension and unspoken words.

"Can we just go back inside and talk?" she pleaded, her voice a mix of desperation and hope.

"No." Nathan hung his head. "I should've known that this, you and me, was too good to be true."

Frustration boiled over, and Shirley lost her temper. "How dare you believe his stupid lie about me begging him to come back? And what are you so offended about, anyway? That Brody's trying to manipulate me again? Or because he spent the last seven years convincing me I'm worthless? Because if that bugs you so much, imagine how it makes me feel!"

Shirley's voice broke as the years of hurt and betrayal bubbled to the surface, but she pressed on. "If you want to be my knight in shining armor, then here's your chance because I'm all tapped out, Nathan! And you can't expect me to fight for you if you won't do the same for me."

Nathan was silent, his features betraying nothing. Shirley's heart raced, her chest tight with anticipation and fear.

"Say something, Nathan!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the empty space.

Slowly, Nathan stepped out of the car and faced her, the distance between them filled with the weight of their shared moments. He looked at her with regret and Shirley braced herself. She couldn't bear the thought of him leaving her before they'd even had a chance to be together, but she was done playing games.

"I wish I'd met you seven years ago," he breathed. "I wish I'd been here all along to protect you from jerks like him. I'm sorry I let him get to me, and you're right, I should've trusted you, but I just couldn't bear the thought of standing there and watching you go back to him."

Shirley shook her head. "That will never happen, so, what are we going to do now?"

"I'm going to kiss you," Nathan said.

Shirley's breath caught in her throat as Nathan closed the gap between them. He smiled as he pressed his palms to her cheeks, the warmth of his touch seeping into her skin, sending a cascade of shivers down her spine. When his lips finally met hers, it felt like the breaking of a long night into dawn.

It was a kiss that whispered of new beginnings, soft and tender, yet charged with a passion that lit up the dark spaces within her. The pain and shadows of her past seemed to dissolve, leaving behind only the warmth of Nathan's presence.

As the kiss ended, Nathan gazed deeply into her eyes. "I'm also going to try to make you happy," he whispered.

"You already have," Shirley replied.

"I'm also going to sue Brody for everything," Nathan added. "I'm going to make sure you get the house, the money… He won't get away with what he's done to you."

In the quiet of the parking lot, under the watchful gaze of the stars, Shirley allowed herself to believe in the possibility of a future where she could heal, where she could be happy. Nathan's promise wasn't just about retribution; it was a vow of support, of a shared fight against the shadows of her past. For the first time in a long while, Shirley felt a glimmer of hope, a sense that maybe, just maybe, she could rebuild her life from the ruins Brody had left behind.

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