The Pink House Infidelity Revenge
Language: en
I pushed the door open and froze. It was my house, but I didn’t recognize a single piece of furniture inside. The sofa was gone. The curtains were different. Even the color of the walls had been altered. Standing in the entryway, staring at a sea of pink florals, only one thought flickered through my mind: I’ve been on a business trip for three months. Did I get robbed? No. Burglars don’t redecorate. I walked deeper into the living room, my heels clicking hollowly on the hardwood. There, on the coffee table, sat a picture frame. It was a photo of a couple. My husband was grinning, his arm…