ADVERTISEMENT
“Password,” I muttered. Easy guess, our wedding date. It worked.
My hands shook as I scrolled through the text messages. The sender: Lola. Explicit conversations between her and my husband, Matt, filled the screen.
I felt sick reading about their plans to meet at that fancy downtown restaurant on Friday night. I dropped the phone, almost breaking it, but caught it just in time.
Close-up of a phone screen | Source: Pexels
“Jenna, you got this,” I whispered to myself, trying to keep calm.
Carefully, I wrapped the phone back up and replaced it in the toilet tank. I made sure it looked undisturbed before leaving the bathroom. As I walked into the kitchen, I encountered Matt, who was rummaging through the fridge.
“Hey, babe, what’s for dinner?” he asked, glancing up.
I plastered on a smile. “Thinking of making pasta. How’s work?”
“Busy,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Lots of meetings this week.”
In the kitchen, a woman forces a smile as her husband chats | Source: Pexels
“Friday too?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Yeah, another late one,” he replied, not even looking me in the eye. I nodded, pretending to believe him.
As soon as he left the room, I texted Nicole and Tara, my closest friends, and Lucas, my brother who’s a lawyer. We met up that night at Nicole’s place.
Nicole poured the wine. “What’s the plan, Jenna?”
ADVERTISEMENT
