Chapter 1

The drive from Phoenix felt longer than seven hours. Lily slept most of the way, her small head lolling against the car seat. I clutched the steering wheel, a nervous energy thrumming through me. Six months. Six months since Mark moved to Austin for that big promotion, promising we' d all be together soon. This surprise visit was supposed to be a happy reunion.

We pulled up to the address Mark had given for his corporate apartment. It was a newer complex, impersonal. I saw a group of people in the courtyard, a BBQ grill smoking. Mark was there, laughing with a woman. My stomach tightened.

I got Lily out of the car. She was still sleepy but woke up when she saw the people.

"Is Daddy here?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"He should be, sweetie," I said, trying to keep my voice light.

We walked towards the group. Mark turned. His smile vanished. Pure shock, that' s what it was. Not joy. Not surprise in a good way. The woman next to him, younger, pretty, looked from him to me, then quickly away. The other colleagues went quiet, their faces awkward.

Mark recovered in a split second, a wide, fake smile plastered on his face.

"Sarah! Lily! What a surprise!"

He rushed over, hugging Lily tightly. She giggled, thrilled.

"I can't believe you guys are here! You should have told me!"

He sounded almost too enthusiastic. He introduced me quickly to his colleagues, including the young woman, Ashley Brennan, his voice a little strained. They mumbled hellos. The BBQ suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"We were just about to head to dinner," Mark said, "Let me just grab my keys."

He steered us away from the group. In the car, driving to a generic chain restaurant he picked, Lily chattered happily to him. Mark answered her, but he was quiet with me, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror more than necessary.

His apartment was what you' d expect from a corporate lease. Sparsely furnished, a faint smell of stale coffee. Lily, bless her, was easily entertained. I set her up with cartoons on her tablet in the small living area. Then I turned to Mark.

"Can I see your phone?" I asked. My voice was flat.

He looked startled. "My phone? Why?"

"Just want to check something, Mark."

He hesitated, then handed it over. The password was still our wedding anniversary. My fingers felt cold as I typed it in. I went straight to his texts. A contact named "Ash B." with little heart emojis next to it. My breath caught.

Recent messages.

Ash B.: "Don't forget my artisanal tacos for the late night work session! ;) "

Mark: "Anything for my favorite work buddy! Be there soon."

My hands started to shake. Work buddy.

We' d been together eight years, married for six. This promotion, this move to Austin, he' d sworn it was for us, for our future. He' d move us out once he was settled. That was the promise.

I kept scrolling. My vision blurred.

The week Lily and I had that awful flu, both of us miserable. He' d said he was swamped with a critical project, couldn't get away. Texts showed him at a music festival with Ashley. Photos of them, smiling, drinks in hand.

My emergency gallbladder surgery. A vital conference he couldn' t possibly miss, he' d said, his voice full of regret over the phone. He was actually on a weekend trip to San Antonio with Ashley. Pictures of them on the Riverwalk.

Valentine' s Day. He' d Venmo' d me $52. "For a nice lunch, honey."

Ashley got a $500 gift card to a luxury spa. I saw the email confirmation he' d forwarded to her, with a note: "You deserve to be pampered, Ash."

I looked up at him. My heart felt like a stone.

"You haven't crossed that line, right?" he said, his voice suddenly desperate. "We haven't slept together. It' s not... it' s not what you think."

He was trying to minimize it, to make it seem less. But the evidence was screaming at me. The dates, the gifts, the shared jokes, the sheer volume of their communication. It was an affair of the heart, an affair of his time, an affair of our money. And whether they' d "crossed that line" physically felt almost irrelevant against the mountain of betrayal.