Accidentally On Purpose

The glittering of the shimmery chandelier on the champagne glasses in everyone's hand, the beautiful backless dresses, the flawless makeup, the perfectly pressed three-piece suits, they all add to the glitz and glamour of the prestigious evening. Too bad it's all going down the drain.

The human mind is a curious one and one tiny snippet of an even remotely interesting fact is enough to get a person to forget about privacy altogether – and human decency might I add – just to satisfy the hunger of their curiosity. Thus explains tonight's quandary. One might say I'm as curious as George – that cat not my husband, though you could say he's always been a curious one too – but I've always felt that to be a bit of an overstretch really. It's not as if I go out of my way to eavesdrop on someone's confidential conversation, but if I happen to overhear a valuable piece of information you could say I'd stick around to listen to the rest of it. Call me a gossip but I'd rather have all the facts than to endlessly wonder whether I would, or could, ever have the rest of the half truth I heard.

Like that one time I overheard a certain someone was growing a bun in the oven that did not belong to their husband. I was left questioning for day who the baby daddy might be. If only I could have overheard – or eavesdropped who am I kidding – a bit more. Our minds need to be fed with things that don't concern us at all, because we think it's our right to have that kind of knowledge of people, who otherwise we wouldn't consider speaking to to ask questions about such topics. It's our need to satisfy our boredom and the desire to escape from our own problems, that constitutes as eavesdrop-worthy to other people, that spurs us, perks up our ears when we hear something we're not supposed to.

And this little habit of mine brings me back to the comprising position I find myself in. Okay the position I put myself in, but whatever. One would never guess a piece of gossip that sensitive would be talked about at an even such as this, although I guess when you own the company that isn't quite as problematic as you might think. Especially if the subject of this overheard gossip is about to be handing over their key pass and will be needing a box soon to carry their belongings in.

I wonder if I should tell George about this, I'm sure he'd like to know. Because as it turns out, come Monday, he won't have a job anymore. And I'm surprisingly giddy about that. Call me cruel and malicious for saying this but he's finally getting what he deserves. You don't go about wetting your dick in every hole you find – told you he was curious – and not suffer the consequences they bring about. Particularly when one of those holes belong to his boss's wife. Predictable and cliche, I know. So no, it's not panic, anger, sadness, or even worry I feel when I find out what's about to go down soon. Actions have repercussions, it's what I always tell him. The night might be jeopardy but not because my dear husband is about to humiliated in front of the entire company plus guests, it's because my own plan is now ruined. I even had pictures.

Once again my accidental eavesdropping – okay maybe not so accidental – has placed me in quite a conundrum. For a moment I war with myself whether I shoud tell my dear George – who's currently flirting with the twenty-three year old redhead that is his assistant – to leave before the spectacle begins, seeing how he's the supposed love of my life and everything. Then I see him subtly, or with a lack of, brush his knuckles against her cheek lovingly.

I suddenly remember our wedding day how he sweetly caressed my cheek like he's caressing hers, how he couldn't keep his hands off me the entire night like he currently can't keep his hands off the one thousandth freaking mistress he's had over the years. In a room full of people he works with who know damn well I'm his wife. I should have left him years ago but as any wife, the tiny sliver of chance that he might change is always present. But no more.

I ponder if it's too late to team up with his boss for the little show he has planned but that would mean I'd forever be the villain in his life and honestly I'd rather not risk that brought up in court and jeopardising my chance of taking everything from him when this sham of a marriage is over.

No I'll just stand here in my demure little black dress, gasp when needed, clutch my pearls oh so scandalously, and throw the rest of my Dom Pérignon in his boyishly handsome face.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear the crackle of the microphone on stage where Mr. Boss is ready to give his speech. My eyes land on my husband, or more like the position of his hand on her ass, since I'm pretty sure he thinks I can't see it, then turn back to the stage and smile. I couldn't believe my ears when I heard the plans regarding my husband spewing out of his mouth

I've never been more glad to have overheard how he's about to completely shatter my husband and his career irreparably.

He begins by giving his usual speech, I imagine he's trying to build up to the big reveal and that's when I feel a hand squeezing my heart and feel a discomfort I hadn't so far. I hurry to rectify the stupid mistake I could be making, I look back to see the spot he was occupying with the redhead is now empty, my eyes search for him in the vast ballroom to give him a warning at least, this remorse hits at the last minute but hey, better late than never.

My five inch heel clad feet carry me hastily through the entrance and into the much quieter hallways and that's when I freeze, as my eyes land on my husband's lips leaving kisses so tender on his giggling secretary. Any guilt I had over not warning him about what I eavesdropped is vanished.

Then I hear his name being called by Mr. Boss and his head snaps up, eyes landing on mine. He looks surprised, I don't.

I walk back into the ballroom, spine ramrod straight, head held high, ready to see him lose everything he's ever wanted but never deserved, including me.

Oh well.