Shawn met up with Mike, his other best friend, and confided in him about everything that had been weighing him down. Mike's solution? Get him drunk. And drunk he got—so much so that Miles had to step in to help get him home. On the way, they ran into Melissa, who saw an opportunity. She convinced Miles to bring Shawn to her place instead, under the pretense that he was having issues with Naledi.
Shawn, barely conscious, was led into the guest house. His mind was swimming—visions blurring, memories twisting. In his haze, he thought he saw Melody. The way Melissa touched his face, the whisper of her voice in his ear... It was all so familiar. Too familiar.
"You're safe now," she whispered, guiding him to the bed. "Let it go. Just for tonight."
He didn't answer. His body sagged under her touch, head foggy, thoughts fractured. He wasn't aware enough to resist, and not present enough to know what he was doing. But Melissa knew. And still, she pressed forward.
She climbed onto the bed beside him, brushing his shirt open with trembling fingers, her breath shallow. She kissed his chest softly, pausing for his reaction. When he didn't push her away, she took it as a sign. Her hands traveled his torso, guiding him out of his clothes piece by piece, kissing every inch of skin with a slow, greedy hunger.
He groaned—soft, confused, broken.
She kissed him—deeply this time—and his lips responded, sloppy and slow, like muscle memory. She pulled him on top of her, wrapping her legs around his waist. Every touch was an invitation. Every whisper was a trap. She whispered things in his ear, words laced with desire and possession.
He moved without purpose, letting instinct guide him. Their bodies met, and Melissa gasped, her nails dragging down his back. She arched into him, eyes fluttering shut.
For a moment, she thought he was hers.
But then, as he moved, as his breath hitched, he muttered a name.
"Naledi…"
Melissa froze.
Still inside her, Shawn's body trembled. "Please... don't leave me," he mumbled.
She stared up at the ceiling, emotion catching in her throat—but not love. Rage.
When it was over, he collapsed beside her, silent. She curled into him, but he didn't respond. Not with a word. Not with an arm. Just empty, shallow breaths.
Her lips pressed to his neck—not in affection, but in strategy. She left a hickey, subtle but deliberate. A smear of lipstick followed, then a spritz of her perfume on his shirt.
The next morning, Shawn woke with a pounding headache and dread pulling at his chest. He saw Melissa across the room, fully dressed, watching him.
His face paled. "What did we do?" he whispered.
Melissa tilted her head, silent.
"Don't tell anyone," he said firmly, dragging himself out of bed. "Ever."
She nodded slowly. But in her mind, something had already started to burn.
When Naledi saw the signs, she didn't speak. She simply moved into the guest room and said nothing more. Her silence was louder than any fight.
Shawn discovered the hickey in the mirror later that day, after stepping into the shower. Guilt gripped his chest, but it was too late. Naledi had already seen it.
He tried to explain, but she didn't want to hear it. She had already checked out emotionally. All she said was, "I'm going to work," and left.
Her world shifted. She spent more time with Jacob and, through him, started working with Noah. Their bond grew slowly, tenderly. Naledi began to smile again. She stopped wearing her wedding ring. Both Noah and Shawn noticed.
They asked. She answered honestly, though not the same for each. Shawn spiraled even further. One day, he followed her and found her laughing with Max and his daughter. They looked like a family.
It gutted him.
Max noticed him watching. With a smirk, he wrapped an arm around Naledi and led her away before she could turn around.
Melissa decided it was her time to act when her friends sent her a photo of Naledi and a man, but they could not see his face.
She snapped photos of Naledi and Noah—carefully angled, so that Noah's face wasn't visible, just his back. She presented them to Shawn like they were a gift.
"She's already moved on," she whispered.
Rage and heartbreak collided in Shawn's chest. He downed a bottle of whiskey in minutes, his mind unraveling. By the time Melissa found him again, he was hunched on the couch, glassy-eyed and trembling.
"You don't have to be alone tonight," she said gently.
He didn't say anything, but didn't stop her when she sat beside him, pressing her lips against his.
"You think she's in his bed right now?" she whispered.
His jaw clenched. "I don't care."
She kissed him harder, and he gave in—this time not in confusion, but in fury. He grabbed her waist, pulled her onto his lap, and kissed her with bruising force. Their mouths collided, hands desperate and wild. Clothes flew in every direction. She gasped his name as he lay her on the bed, breathing heavily, his body trembling.
"Let me make it better," she whispered.
But it wasn't better.
He moved with desperation, not affection. She moaned beneath him, clung to him, gave him everything. But he didn't look at her. His eyes stayed locked somewhere else—somewhere she couldn't reach.
Their bodies moved together, fast, raw, broken. She cried out in pleasure, thinking it was love. But to him, it was an escape. Punishment.
When it was over, she curled into him again, satisfied. But he didn't wrap his arms around her.
He just lay there, still and hollow.
That night, Naledi returned home with Lincoln after basketball practice. The house was too quiet. She noticed Shawn's shirt on the floor, Melissa's dress hanging off a chair. Her heart stopped.
She followed the trail, opened the bedroom door, and found them together.
She didn't scream. She didn't yell. She just walked into the guest room and let the shower mask the sound of her tears.
Lincoln did what she couldn't.
He stormed into the room with a gallon of cold water and threw it over both of them.
Melissa screamed. Shawn bolted upright.
"What the hell—?!" he shouted.
Lincoln didn't flinch.
He stared at his father like he didn't recognize him. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly. "Does your marriage mean nothing to you?"
Shawn had no answer.
And in that silence, everything collapsed.