Betrayal. The Melody of Divorce

Katya looks at me with a bold, victorious smirk. And she doesn’t even think of getting off my husband’s knees.
— Ariana? — His voice is hoarse. — What are you doing here?

I can’t utter a sound. I freeze in the doorway, my whole body trembling, while my fingers—clenched around the handle of my bag—turn white with tension. Inside me, a siren is howling—louder than the music, louder than the storm.
— I… you… you forgot your tablet, — I finally force the words out, and my voice sounds like the squeak of old hinges.

— And what? Decided to check up? — He slowly, deliberately, stands up, brushing Katya off himself. She reluctantly rises, straightens her dress. She looks at me with contempt and curiosity at the same time.

— You said you’re flying to St. Petersburg, — I whisper, and my voice trembles with tears. I despise myself for this weakness. — Business trip… with Katya.

— Plans have changed, — he cuts me off, and his gaze turns icy. — And besides, Ariana, don’t play the naive idiot. You’ve already understood everything.