Why would Marcus — my husband — and Sophie — my sister-in-law — be in on something like this together?
By the end of the night, Sophie had “recovered,” blaming food poisoning. The excuse was flimsy. Marcus pretended to fuss over me, but his eyes avoided mine.
When we finally got home, I told Marcus I had a headache and went to bed early. But I didn’t sleep.
The next day, while Marcus was at work, I found my answer. I wasn’t looking for it — not exactly. But when his phone buzzed on the counter, the preview lit up the screen. It was Sophie.
Last night was too close. We need to be more careful.
My hands went cold. I unlocked the phone — yes, I knew the code — and read the thread. Messages that went back months. Some about “missing each other,” others with hotel addresses. Pictures I couldn’t unsee.
It wasn’t just an affair. They’d been planning ways to make me “look unstable” in front of the family. And last night’s “accident” had been one of those plans.
I didn’t explode. I didn’t confront him right away. Instead, I let the days pass as if nothing had changed, all while gathering evidence — screenshots, photos, even copies of receipts.
