Chapter 3

The drive to the mountains was mostly silent. Sarah sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, a placid look on her face. She occasionally checked her phone, and I saw the name 'Mark' light up the screen. Each time, a knot of acid formed in my stomach. I was driving my wife to a romantic getaway where she would be sleeping with another man. My self-loathing was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest.

We arrived at the lodge, a beautiful timber-framed building nestled among giant fir trees. I checked into my room-a king suite with a stone fireplace and a balcony overlooking the valley. It was the perfect romantic setting, and I was utterly alone.

Sarah dropped her small bag in my room. "Mark is just five minutes down the road," she said brightly. "We're going to get settled in at the cabin. I'll text you in the morning about the hike."

She kissed the air near my cheek and left. The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence of the massive room was deafening. I walked out onto the balcony. The air was crisp and cold, smelling of pine and wet earth. It was supposed to be cleansing, but I just felt empty. I had given her everything, and she had given it all to someone else.

The next morning, she texted as promised. `Meet at the trailhead at 9. Wear good boots.`

I was there at 8:45. They arrived at 9:05, pulling up in Mark' s beat-up car. They emerged laughing about something, their body language easy and familiar. Sarah was wearing a new hiking outfit I' d never seen before. Mark was carrying a professional-looking backpack.

"Good morning, Liam," Sarah said, as if we were just three friends meeting for a pleasant day out.

Mark just nodded at me, a smirk playing on his lips.

The hike was torture. They walked slightly ahead of me, their conversation flowing easily, while I trailed behind like a third wheel. They talked about meditation, about energy flows, about people from the temple I didn't know. They were in their own world, and I was just an observer.

I tried to interject, to be part of it. "The geology of this region is fascinating," I said at one point, pointing to a rock formation. "It's mostly granite intrusions..."

Sarah gave me a patient smile. "That's nice, Liam." Then she immediately turned back to Mark. "As you were saying about the Bodhisattva ideal..."

At a scenic overlook, with a panoramic view of the snow-capped peaks, I tried one last time. I took out the flask of hot tea I had brought and offered it to her.

"Here," I said. "I remembered you like it with ginger."

She took it, but her attention was on Mark, who was helping her adjust her backpack strap. His hands lingered on her back.

"Thank you, Mark," she said, her voice soft. "You always know what I need."

She didn't even acknowledge the tea. She handed the flask back to me, and Mark offered her a drink from his own water bottle. She took it, their fingers brushing. The small gesture was more intimate than a kiss. It was a public declaration that he was her partner, and I was nothing.

We reached a narrow, exposed section of the trail with a steep drop-off on one side. The path was slick with loose gravel. As Sarah stepped forward, her foot slipped. She cried out, stumbling towards the edge.

Instinct took over. I lunged forward, grabbing her arm to pull her back. At the same instant, Mark also reached for her, grabbing her other arm.

We both had her. She was safe.

But in that split second, she looked at Mark. Her eyes, wide with fear, were locked on his. She instinctively leaned towards him, pulling her arm from my grasp as if my touch burned her. She collapsed against his chest, her hands clutching his jacket.

"Mark," she breathed, her voice shaking. "You saved me."

I stood there, my hand still outstretched, my fingers tingling from where she had pulled away. She hadn't even looked at me. In a moment of perceived crisis, I didn't exist. Her world consisted of only one person, and it wasn't her husband.

That was it. That was the moment every last shred of hope, every pathetic, lingering fantasy, died. The cold, hard truth crashed down on me with the force of an avalanche. She didn't love me. She would never love me. She was with him.

The rest of the hike back was a blur of silent misery. Back at the parking lot, she didn't even look at me.

"I'm feeling a bit shaken up," she said to the air. "I think I'll go back to the cabin with Mark and rest."

She got into his car without a backward glance. I watched them drive away, dust kicking up from the tires, until the car was just a speck in the distance.

I felt a sharp pain in my chest, so intense it made me gasp. It wasn't emotional. It was physical. A crushing pressure that stole my breath. My vision started to swim. I leaned against my car, my legs suddenly weak. The stress, the humiliation, the final, brutal rejection-it was all too much. My heart felt like it was tearing apart. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and the world went dark.