I Was The Wrong Girl In His Bed For Three Years Chapter 07

I Was The Wrong Girl In His Bed For Three Years Chapter 07

The comments had predicted I’d end up broke after the divorce.

So I figured I’d get ahead of it.

The walk-in closet was packed: handbags, jewelry, designer pieces. Almost all of it from Graham.

Every time he gave me something, I used to throw myself into his arms.

I never cared much about the designer stuff. I was just happy he’d thought of me.

He’d let me hold him, but his body never relaxed against mine. His hand would hover there for the longest time before finally settling on my waist.

I used to tease him about it.

“You don’t even know how to hug your own wife.”

Now I understood. He just didn’t want me touching him.

Our first kiss came flooding back.

I’d reached up and kissed him, and he jerked back like I’d burned him.

His breathing went ragged, his jaw tight. He muttered something and left.

After we got married, I’d put on something pretty and crawl into his lap.

He’d grip my waist until his knuckles went white, then tell me, his voice rough, to go change.

I initiated every single time.

I was the one who insisted on it every night. No exceptions.

The second we were done, he’d get up and shower.

Like he was scrubbing me off his skin.

I always told myself it was just who he was, reserved, closed off, bad at showing how he felt.

Then a package showed up at the door.

I opened it without thinking and realized it wasn’t mine.

Collars. Body chains. Harnesses. Blindfolds. Handcuffs.

Every single one was something I’d bookmarked in secret but never had the nerve to buy.

The comments appeared.

[OMG Graham finally figured it out! Sloane just got back and he’s already buying all this for her. True love hits different!]

[We TOLD you Graham has a crazy high sex drive. He just had zero interest in her.]

[She was married to him for 3 years and never got any of this, but Sloane walks back in and gets the full treatment immediately lol.]

I sank to the floor.

Three years of marriage.

I was the one who bought the lingerie.

I was the one who blushed and asked for things I could barely say out loud.

He never once did any of it for me.

So he could want someone. He could make the first move.

It was just never going to be me.

I packed up every gift he’d ever given me.

I called a consignment shop and put all of it up for sale.

The woman in the mirror had red, swollen eyes.

Three years of giving him everything I had, and the whole time I was the only one who thought it

was real.