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Back The Marriage Trap: A completely addictive psychological thriller Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Books by Sheryl Browne
  3. Dedication
  4. KARLA
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Epilogue
  54. The Affair
  55. Hear more from Sheryl
  56. Books by Sheryl Browne
  57. A Letter from Sheryl
  58. The Babysitter
  59. The Second Wife
  60. Acknowledgements

Yes, of course I do. I’m not sure I’ll actually have the courage to sleep with another man. I don’t want to. I’m not sure I would know how to. But I do want Jason to feel as crushed as I do. I want him to question everything he ever was to me; to feel as insignificant to my life as I clearly am to his. To feel jealous. I thought, at first, when I discovered he’d been browsing dating sites, that it was some kind of angry reaction to me having pushed him to approach my father for the business loan. I tried to convince myself it was an act of rebellion, that he’d felt somehow emasculated, that it was something he was doing to get back at me. My stomach clenches painfully as I recall how furious he was that I would accuse him of doing this, his vehement denial, when the evidence was there, right in front of my eyes. His lies. It’s been more than browsing, more than the odd flirt to reaffirm his manhood, I would bet my life on it. How long he’s wanted out of our marriage, I have no way of knowing.

He won’t be jealous, Sarah sighs, and my heart, which has been sinking steadily since I accessed his internet history, settles like ice in my chest. He’s moved on. He’s not likely to be distraught if I seek the company of other men. Even so, as pathetic as I realise it is, there’s an ember of hope still burning faintly inside me that he might wake up to the fact that it’s me he wants. That he might realise he loves me when he knows he’s lost me.

If he doesn’t, what will I have lost that was worth anything in the first place?

Ignoring the phone ringing constantly to my side, I concentrate on compiling a list of enticing things about me that I can include on my profile. Tinder is populated by the dating-app generation, after all. If I don’t want to be hastily swiped left by men as desperate as my husband to move on to something more exciting, I have to be able to compete with tempting young things. I need to get in touch with the real me, the person I used to be, who felt she could climb a mountain, touch the sky or swim an ocean. She didn’t die the day she got married. She got side-lined, that was all. She’s still here inside, waiting to unfurl her wings.