This was the same woman who had sworn eternal devotion to me, who had once promised, with tears in her eyes, to walk hand in hand with me through life and death. Yet, hidden in plain sight, she had poured her soul out to another man under the guise of a pseudonym.
A sickening realization took hold of me. Nathan.
Driven by a mix of desperation and anger, I opened my phone and searched for his social media profile. It was private—nothing but a single dash where his posts should have been.
But then another idea struck me.
I turned to Alexa's laptop, which she had carelessly left open on the study desk. The familiar wallpaper of a scenic mountain range mocked me as I navigated to her social media account. I searched for Nathan's profile through her friend list.
And there it was—a treasure trove of posts I wasn't meant to see.
Pinned at the top was a photo. Nathan grinned at the camera, holding up a book in his hand. The caption read: [Thank you to my girlfriend for handwriting a book for me. I'm the happiest man alive!]
My stomach twisted. The comments section below buzzed with life:
[Nice!]
[Your girlfriend is amazing! She's just like Mrs. Colby—so loyal and devoted!]
[Love this! Nathan, teach us how to find someone like her!]
And amidst the sea of replies, Nathan had smugly commented: [My girlfriend is even better than Mrs. Colby!]
But what caught my attention was a small heart icon beside one of the comments. Alexa's account had liked it.
My hands balled into fists, my nails digging into my palms until I felt the sting of broken skin. I laughed bitterly—uncontrollably. My voice echoed in the empty room, a sound filled with anguish and disbelief.
This was the same woman who had always refused to exchange contact details with other men, who had said, "Sorry, I have a husband," with such conviction that no one dared question her loyalty.
Now, I realized it was all a performance. Every act of devotion, every boundary she claimed to draw—it had been a carefully constructed facade designed for my eyes alone.
***
Two hours later, Alexa returned. The front door creaked open and I heard the faint click of her heels against the floorboards. She stepped into the room with a radiant smile, her arms laden with a chocolate cake and a beautifully wrapped gift box.
"Harry?" she called softly, her voice honeyed and warm.