I Began to Suspect My Wife (4)
A chill silence enveloped the room. The scorching heat from moments ago had vanished like a lie, leaving only awkward, frigid air drifting between us. She kept her phone hidden behind her back, frozen atop me without so much as a twitch. I stared blankly at her rigid face before finally squeezing out a voice.
"Uh... w-who... who is it?"
My voice trembled without me even realizing it. She averted her gaze from my question, forcing a casual tone.
"No one. Just... an old coworker from my previous company."
She stuttered. It wasn't like her at all—a clear sign of panic anyone could see. I repeated her words in my mind. Coworker? Miles... The name didn't sound remotely Korean. Sure, she wasn't working now, but I'd never heard her mention any foreigners at her pre-marriage job.
Doubt began to sprout in my head. As I sank into those thoughts without a word, she fidgeted restlessly, growing anxious. Then, suddenly, she wrapped her arms around my neck again, trying to change the subject.
"A-anyway, honey... let's finish up quick. Yeah? We gotta keep going with what we were doing."
Her voice was desperate, urging me on—like she wanted to bury this awkwardness fast and escape back into the pleasure of our bodies. She planted a quick smack of a kiss on my lips and gave a teasing wiggle of her hips to stimulate me.
"Y-yeah... r-right, we should..."
I mumbled in a daze, grabbing her waist. But the mood was shattered. The name Miles loomed like an invisible wall between us. Pushed by her urgency, I started thrusting my hips again. Squelch, squelch. The wet sounds filled the room once more, but it felt utterly different from before. No pleasure at all. Just mechanical pistoning out of obligation.
"Ha-ah... hng... Yes, honey... harder... harder..."
She let out exaggerated moans, trying to guide my movements. But I couldn't focus anymore. My mind was crammed full of that name: Miles. Who was he? Really just an old coworker? Then why the panic? Why snatch the phone so desperately? And at this hour—what the hell did he want?
I kept thrusting mechanically while scrutinizing her face. Her eyes were shut, moans spilling out, but her expression carried more anxiety than bliss.
"Honey, what's wrong? Why'd you suddenly go soft?"
She opened her eyes and looked at me as my rhythm slowed.
"N-no... just... suddenly tired..."
"Tired? You weren't a minute ago. Is it... because of me?"
"No, nothing like that."
I shook my head. But my heart was already heavy. I wanted to ask about Miles' identity. But courage failed me. What if the answer was something I couldn't handle?
"Then buck up. Come on? I'm not even close yet."
She cupped my ass with her hands and started moving her own hips. Regardless of my will, she seemed determined to drag this sex out. I couldn't say a word.
......
In the end, I passed out. I don't remember if we went till 7 a.m. or finished earlier. Even as that name circled my mind, days of built-up fatigue and exhaustion from the all-nighter broke my will. I must've just rocked with her shakes until blacking out at some point.
How long had I slept? Consciousness flickered dimly back. My body felt like a thousand tons, head throbbing. I opened my eyes to blinding sunlight outside. Had to be morning, at least. The spot beside me was empty. She'd gotten up and was moving around already.
As I tried to rise, a faint voice drifted from the living room. My wife's, it seemed. Dragging my heavy body off the bed, I headed for the door—throat parched, craving water. But right at the doorway, her voice sharpened from the living room, and I froze in place without thinking.
She was on the phone with someone. Not her usual sweet, gentle tone. Low, cold, laced with desperation.
".....I told you not to call."
She whispered, but firmly.
"I said DMs only, how many times? What if we get caught?"
My heart plummeted. Get caught? By who? Me? I held my breath, waiting for more. Her voice continued.
"What? No... that's... why bring up the past?"
Silence fell. Listening to the other side, probably. What were they talking about? What connection did she have with this Miles guy? My mind went blank.
"Miles. I'm not that person anymore."
Her tone hardened further.
"I'm married. I have a husband, a home. I like this life now. So please... stop shaking me up."
Not that person anymore. This life is better. Each word stabbed my chest like a dagger. So what was she like back then? And did Miles know that version of her?
"...What? No... that was... I was young then. You know that, why?"
Her voice dropped lower, defensive yet resigned.
"Sure... it wasn't bad... but not anymore. I'm happy with my life now."
Wasn't bad? Did that mean she enjoyed it? I glared at her back through the door crack. She paced the living room anxiously.
"What...? What'd you say?"
She repeated, as if he'd said something. Then, unbelievably, a sound leaked from her lips.
"Hngh..."
A laugh. Not scornful or mocking. A moan laced with desire. I froze, breath caught. Had I misheard? I fixed my gaze through the crack. She'd stopped, staring intently at her phone screen. He'd sent something, no doubt—a photo or video.
"S-sure... it's... big, yeah..."
She muttered to herself, voice quivering faintly. And then I saw it. Her other hand slipping stealthily under her pajama pants. She was touching herself down there. Secretly pleasuring herself—while on the phone with another man, looking at whatever he'd sent.
I couldn't believe the scene. Shock hit like a hammer to the skull. This wasn't the wife I knew. Who the hell was this slutty, unfamiliar woman?
She continued the call, but her voice had lost its edge.
"S-still... no means no... hng... please... stop messing with me, Miles... there are plenty of other women..."
Wet moans mixed into every word. Her hand moved faster.
"Y-yes, I'm satisfied... hng... my husband... he's good too... m-most of all, he cherishes me... so please... don't do this... I beg you..."
Husband. That's me. She was talking about me—excited on a call with another man.
He's good. Implying not as good as Miles?
"Ah... hng... that's... cheating... why keep... showing me that..."
She was practically begging. But not to stop—more like pleading for more. Her body began to tremble finely. Hips arching slightly, uncontrollable moans spilling from her lips.
"Ahh! Hng... no... nooo... I'm hanging up... really...!"
She cut the call frantically. The living room filled with her ragged breaths. She leaned against the wall and slid slowly down. Her hand lingered there still. I trembled uncontrollably under the covers, fighting to stay hidden. I'd heard everything. Seen everything. My wife—the woman I loved and trusted most—having a lewd phone call with another man, pleasuring herself. And that man was Miles, from her phone last night.
Misery and rage boiled inside me. But at the same time, an inexplicable excitement bloomed alongside it.