Chapter 2

The morning light felt harsh and unforgiving as it streamed into the living room, illuminating the debris of the previous night. The candles had burned down to waxy puddles, the food on the plates was cold and congealed, and the wine glasses stood untouched. Ava sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, but she couldn' t stop shivering. She hadn' t slept. How could she? The same conversation played over and over in her mind: Mark' s tender words to Chloe, Chloe' s vicious, mocking laughter. It was a soundtrack of her own personal hell.

A strange clarity began to cut through the fog of her pain. It was a cold, sharp feeling, like ice forming in her veins. For years, she had blamed herself. She wasn' t sexy enough, not exciting enough, not patient enough. She had twisted herself into knots trying to be the perfect wife, the woman she thought Mark wanted. What a fool she' d been. A complete and utter fool. The realization didn't bring more tears, only a bitter, hollow laugh that startled her in the quiet house. They had played her so perfectly.

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was a call from Chloe. Ava stared at the screen, at the smiling picture of the two of them from a trip they' d taken last summer. The hypocrisy was nauseating. She let it ring until it went to voicemail, then a text popped up. "Ava, honey, are you okay? Mark called me last night, he sounded really upset. He said you two had a huge fight and you were saying some crazy things. I' m so worried about you!"

The feigned concern, the carefully placed poison, was so transparent now. 'Crazy things.' Of course. That was the narrative. Ava the irrational, hysterical wife. Chloe the supportive, worried friend. Ava' s fingers moved over the keyboard, a plan forming in her mind, cold and precise. She wouldn't let them get away with this. Not anymore.

She texted back a single, simple sentence: "Can you come over? I need you."

An hour later, Chloe walked through the front door, her face a perfect mask of concern. "Oh, Ava, honey, look at this place. What happened?" she said, her eyes sweeping over the disastrous dining room. She rushed to Ava' s side, pulling her into a hug. The embrace felt like being held by a snake. Ava didn' t flinch. She just let herself be held, playing the part of the broken woman.

"He... he left, Chloe," Ava sobbed, forcing the tears to come. "He said I was being crazy. He said I accused him of... of something horrible."

"What did you accuse him of?" Chloe asked, her voice soft, probing.

Ava pulled back, looking directly into her best friend' s eyes. "I accused him of sleeping with you."

Chloe' s mask of concern tightened for a fraction of a second, the only sign of the shock she must have felt. Then she let out a small, horrified gasp. "Ava! How could you even think that? Me? And Mark? That' s... that' s insane. We' re your best friends."

"I know," Ava said, her voice small and lost. "I know it' s crazy. I must have been... I don' t know. I overheard him on the phone, and I just jumped to the worst possible conclusion. I' m losing my mind." She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

Relief flooded Chloe' s features, so visible that Ava could almost taste it. Chloe thought she' d won. She thought Ava had believed the lie, that she' d retreated back into self-doubt. "Oh, honey, no, you' re not losing your mind," Chloe said, rubbing her back soothingly. "You' re just under a lot of stress. This marriage, it' s been hard on you. Mark told me how much you' ve been struggling with the... you know... lack of intimacy."

The casual way she said it, the way she used Ava's deepest pain as a tool of manipulation, sent a jolt of pure rage through Ava. But she kept her composure. She looked up, her eyes wide and pleading. "He told you that?"

"He confides in me sometimes," Chloe said, a hint of pride in her voice. "He' s just so worried about you. He loves you, Ava. He really does. He was just frustrated last night."

"I need to fix this," Ava said, standing up. "I need to apologize to him. I' ve pushed him away with my paranoia." She started pacing, wringing her hands, playing the part of a frantic, guilty wife to perfection.

Chloe watched her, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. "That' s a good idea. Give him some space, and then talk to him. He' ll come around."

"No, I need to do it now," Ava insisted. "I need him to know how sorry I am. Can you... can you call him for me? I don' t think he' ll pick up if I call. Please, Chloe? Tell him I' m a mess. Tell him I know I was wrong."

Chloe' s eyes lit up. The chance to be the hero, the peacemaker, was too good to pass up. "Of course, honey. Anything for you." She pulled out her phone and dialed Mark' s number, putting it on speaker so Ava could hear.

Mark picked up on the second ring. "Chloe? Is everything okay?"

"I' m at the house with Ava," Chloe said, her voice full of gentle authority. "She' s a wreck, Mark. She feels terrible about what she said. She knows she was being irrational."

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "I just... I can' t deal with her accusations, Chloe. It' s too much."

"She knows," Chloe soothed. "She wants to apologize. She just needs you to come home and talk to her."

Ava watched Chloe, her supposed best friend, expertly manipulate the man they were both involved with. It was a masterful performance.

"I don' t know..." Mark hesitated.

"Mark, please," Chloe said. "Do it for me."

That was it. The final, damning piece of evidence. Do it for me. The words hung in the air, a confession of their secret alliance.

Then Ava spoke, her voice suddenly clear and cold, devoid of the hysteria from moments before. "Yes, Mark. Please come home. So you and Chloe can tell me the truth together. Or should I just play the recording I made of your little phone call last night?"

The silence on the other end of the line was absolute. Chloe' s face went white. The mask of concern evaporated, replaced by pure, unadulterated fury. She snatched the phone off the table, snapping it shut.

"You bitch," Chloe hissed, her voice low and venomous. "You scheming little bitch."

The transformation was terrifying. The supportive friend was gone, and in her place was a stranger with eyes full of hate. "The truth is," Chloe spat, her face contorted with rage, "he can' t stand to touch you. He hasn' t wanted you for years. He comes to me because I' m a real woman, not some frigid, pathetic doll who designs buildings because she can' t build a real life."

Every word was designed to gut her, to destroy what little was left of her self-worth. It was a declaration of war, and Ava felt the ground crumble beneath her feet all over again. The betrayal was no longer a secret. It was a weapon, and Chloe was wielding it with savage glee.