The plan

He looked at his phone, turned pale, then quickly left the room. She watched him, smiling. She enjoyed every second of it but she kept quiet. She knew exactly who was calling, what message was given and what he felt. Well, she could imagine what he felt because she had been going through all this nightmare for three months now. Now it was his turn. She heard his rapid footsteps on the second floor and could almost see him pacing in the bedroom, his eye bulging, his forehead sweaty and his hand fidgeting and running through his thinning hair. She stopped the urge to go upstairs and observe. She should act like she knew nothing at all. It was really hard because she wanted to laugh at his disgusting, cheating face and tell everything. But then he wouldn't suffer enough; then it would be only a brief moment of humiliation. She wanted him to pay for every single night she spent crying, for every line of gossip that traveled around the town about her, and for every sympathetic look and whisper she noticed when she left the house.