He didn't answer it. Instead, he straightened up and spoke in a rush.

"If you want to lie here, suit yourself."

"Kathy's in a bad mood. She's pregnant, after all. I'm going to take her out to clear her head."

I said nothing. He walked out without a backward glance.

A bitter smile twisted my lips. How had we ended up here?

Louis and I had grown up together. Childhood sweethearts. We started dating at eighteen, and the day I graduated college at twenty-three, we got married.

I never imagined that three years in, I'd discover he'd been keeping Kathy Hughes on the side like a caged songbird.

I'd been ready to divorce him. But then, out of nowhere, he was diagnosed with leukemia.

The very night of his diagnosis, Kathy took off with tens of millions of his money and fled the country.

For the sake of the twenty-some years we'd known each other, I chose to stay and take care of Louis. When the donor match came back positive, I donated my stem cells.

I nursed him through everything for two years. Changed his bedpans, cleaned up after him, held him together. It took that long before his condition was finally under control and he could be discharged.

The day he left the hospital, he swore to me with every ounce of conviction he had. Said I was the only woman he'd ever love. Said he'd never stray again.

And then, at that hotel, he slipped out of our bed in the middle of the night and went to Kathy's room.

Back then, I let him fool me. I believed him when he said nothing had happened between them.

Now I knew better. From that night until now, they'd been carrying on behind my back. God only knew how many times.

How else had Kathy gotten pregnant? And why else would Louis be so devoted to a woman who'd abandoned him when he was dying?

I dragged myself back onto the hospital bed.

The pain from the wound was unbearable. I blacked out almost immediately.

I was jolted awake by my phone buzzing with notifications.

Kathy had sent a video.

In the footage, the woman was sitting in our bathtub. Louis was patiently feeding her fruit salad, then running his hands over her shoulders in a massage that left nothing to the imagination.

"Daphne, your husband was worried I might get depressed during my pregnancy, so he invited me over to your place as a guest. You don't mind, do you?"

I didn't reply. Not a single word. I just saved the video in silence.