Chapter 2

“Honey, can you send a file to Jack for me? It’s on my phone,” Ethan said.

“Sure,” I replied casually.

Hearing my response, Ethan turned on the shower, humming as the water began to run.

His phone was sitting on the table, unlocked, as it always was. Ethan never hid anything from me—he’d even joked about handing over his phone if I ever wanted to check it.

I entered the passcode, my birthday, and the lock screen opened.

After sending the file, my eyes fell on the name “Emma” in his message list.

The chat history was clean—just work-related texts. Ethan was meticulous like that. He’d never leave anything incriminating behind.

But curiosity got the better of me. I tapped on Emma’s profile and opened her social media.

Her latest post stopped me cold.

It was a photo of two hands intertwined beneath a canopy of pink blossoms.

The caption read: “I told him I loved peach blossoms, so he brought me all the way to Charleston.”

The post was clearly hidden from both her coworkers and me, but one mutual friend had commented underneath: “Is it your mysterious, handsome, rich boyfriend again?”

Emma’s reply was a simple “Yes.”

Two weeks ago, I’d started receiving anonymous texts from an unfamiliar number.

The first one read: “Your husband, the man who swears he loves you more than anything, is cheating on you.”

Since then, every day, I’d received more and more “evidence.” Photos, locations, details—everything pointed to Ethan and Emma.

Apparently, Ethan’s monthly “business trips” were just elaborate vacations with her. They’d watched sunsets on beaches, kissed under the Northern Lights, and held each other in snow-covered forests.

I’d even had the photos verified by a professional. They weren’t fake.

Ethan. Emma. And me.

We’d all been high school classmates, though I’d barely known Emma back then.

When Ethan told me a few months ago that Emma had applied to be his assistant, I’d thought nothing of it. In fact, I encouraged him to hire her—after all, it was nice to help an old classmate.

Who could’ve known I was hiring my own replacement?

Scrolling further through Emma’s social media, I found more posts. Every month, there were photos of trips to different cities, each captioned with romantic lines:

“A life well-lived is half mountains and seas, half you.”

“The sun is setting, and we’re falling in love.”

“Going to beautiful places with the person I love most.”

Every destination matched Ethan’s business trips. Every caption matched the anonymous texts.

Some of the photos showed a man’s silhouette—his face deliberately cropped out. But I didn’t need to see his face. I knew that figure. I’d recognize Ethan anywhere.

There were other photos, too: jewelry, designer bags, luxury items.

The gifts Ethan had brought home to me? She had them too.

Three years of marriage. Three years of meticulous care, of devotion that everyone envied. The perfect husband, they said.

And yet here he was, betraying me.

As memories of our life together flashed through my mind—his sweet words, his warm embraces—they all turned into jagged shards, stabbing into my heart.

I felt the baby move inside me, and I instinctively rested a hand on my belly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered softly.

The next moment, I felt warm arms wrap tightly around me.

Ethan was back, holding me close from behind, his head resting in the crook of my neck.

“What are you saying to our baby, huh?” he murmured.

“I missed you so much while I was away.”

I didn’t respond. The thought of him whispering the same words to her just days ago made my stomach churn.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, gently turning me to face him. His eyes were full of concern as he noticed my red, swollen eyes.

I shook my head and waved a hand in front of my face, trying to explain it away. “It’s nothing. Pregnancy hormones. I’ve just been emotional lately.”

Ethan knelt in front of me, his hand resting on my belly.

“Hey, little one,” he said softly, his eyes lighting up. “Your mom is working so hard for you, so you better behave in there, okay? No causing trouble.”

He pressed his ear against my belly as if listening for a response, then looked up at me with a grin.

“Babe, our baby just told me they understand.”

His joy, his tenderness—it was all so convincing. How could he love me like this and still hold someone else’s hand under a canopy of blossoms?

I gave him a weak smile, and he stood, brushing his thumb across my lips.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and husky, “the doctor said we’re past the three-month mark now, so…”

He leaned in to kiss me, but I couldn’t take it anymore.

I bolted for the bathroom and threw up violently, the nausea overwhelming me.

Behind me, Ethan followed, his hand rubbing circles on my back, his voice full of concern.

“Babe, this pregnancy is really taking it out of you. Let’s make this the last one, okay? No more after this.”

He thought it was just morning sickness.

He had no idea that I wouldn’t be having this baby either.