The moment I opened the door, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
My whole world collapsed upon my head within seconds.
Never … ever… in a million years did I expect something like that from Tyler and Olivia.
And there they were: those filthy scumbags, standing frozen, staring back at me like deers in headlights.
God, I wish I hadn’t seen them.
And the worst part? My dad saw it too.
I don’t remember how we got into the car.
One moment we were living the moment of truth—one that nearly gave my father a stroke—and the next, we were driving.
I splashed some water on my face using the little sink inside the dashboard.
Still stunned. Still spinning. My lungs felt crushed. I couldn’t even look dad in the eyes.
He was more rattled than I was—still hadn’t processed what we saw.
After a long, sick silence, he turned to me and growled:
- “This what you wanted? Huh? Is this what you wanted? I told you they’re not our kind. Rotten, sleazy fucks.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I broke.
Tears burst out like a cracked pipe.
I had trusted Tyler and Olivia with all my heart.
We were just a normal little three-way family.
I never thought it would end up like this.
- “Maybe… just maybe, we could give them another cha—”
- “Shut. Your. God. Fucking. Damn. Mouth. I don’t want to hear a single word.”
- “But they—”
- “Aaagh god. now you tryna defend a lowlife cuck and a shameless bitch? you could’ve married better people Sarah… I knew they were not decent since folks. I knew it.”
Every time I blinked, the scene came back.
Sharp. Vivid. Unshakable.
When we pulled up to the house, Dad hung the car beside the house on the car-hanger and we climbed out.
Mr. Dickson, our overly cheerful neighbor, was walking over.
- “Not a word in front of him. Capiche?
Dad muttered through his teeth.
I nodded. “Okay.”
Mr. Dickson said Hi and made out with dad. I reluctantly took down his pants and sucked him off as a sign of respect.
He seemed satisfied, placed a hand gently on my head, fingers grazing my scalp, and asked with false concern:
- “Something bothering you sweetheart?”
I didn’t reply.
Just covered my eyes with my elbow, pushed open the front door through tears, and brushed past Mom—who was carrying a plate of rice.
I went straight to my room and locked the door behind.
Sat down to keep on crying.
A little later, I heard the door slam.
Then the shouting began.
I clamped both hands over my ears, but could still hear everything.
- “What happened, Clint? What’s wrong with Sarah? Did something happen?”
- “What do you think happened? That fucking bastard… in his own fucking house.”
- “In his own house what? Just say it.”
- “they were…”
The sound of the plate of rice falling and shattering, split my chest open.
- “No. No. No. I don’t believe it. I just can’t.”
- “Sarah opened the door. We saw everything.”
- “You’re lying.”
- “I wish I was. But it’s true — the guy was fucking his own wife. In their own fucking house.”
The end.