My Husband's Affair My Anniversary Gift (Lily and David) novel Chapter 7

Lily stepped into Noa's apartment, the soft click of the door closing behind her doing little to muffle the storm inside her chest. Her hands trembled as she removed her shoes, her mind replaying the scene at the hospital on a never-ending loop—the moment Marina's body jerked in reaction to the allergen, the panicked shout from David, the sheer terror of being accused, and worst of all, the cold fury in David's eyes as he pointed at her.

"You're home," Noa said, emerging from the kitchen, wiping her hands with a dishtowel. She frowned as she looked at Lily. "What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I might as well have," Lily murmured, lowering herself onto the couch as if all the energy had been drained from her bones.

Noa sat beside her, waiting quietly.

Lily told Noa everything: the wild goose chase across the city to buy specific dishes, the discovery that David and Marina had already eaten, the theatrical performance Marina put on, and finally, the allergic reaction that landed her in the ER. She left nothing out, including David's harsh words and his threat of criminal charges.

Noa leaned back slowly, a stunned silence filling the space between them. Then, as if someone had pressed a switch, her face contorted in disgust.

"Marina is a damn drama queen!" she barked. "She knew exactly what she was doing, playing the victim as always. And David..." Her jaw clenched. "What a shameless scumbag. After everything you've done for him, he throws that kind of accusation in your face? Screw him."

Lily didn't respond. Her fingers curled around the throw pillow on her lap, clinging to it as if it might anchor her back to sanity.

"I need to leave," she finally whispered. "I can't take this anymore. I need to get away from him. Completely."

Noa nodded without hesitation. "Then let's do it. Find another job. Start fresh."

And she did. The very next morning, Lily pulled her laptop into her lap and began submitting resumes to every company she could find—small firms, start-ups, even multinationals in far-off districts. She poured her energy into her applications, tailoring cover letters, adjusting CVs, and even reaching out to former acquaintances in the industry.

But as the days went by, a chilling pattern began to emerge.

We're sorry, Ms Collins. At this time, we are not considering applicants affiliated with Hardison Corporation. We regret to inform you that your candidacy has been declined. We value your experience, but unfortunately, we are unable to proceed.

One after another—rejections.

After three straight days and over a dozen applications, the truth became impossible to ignore.

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