After Three Years Apart, I Caught My Husband's SecretChapter 1

Three years of long-distance marriage. The condo we'd bought as newlyweds was stuck in construction limbo, so for the holidays, all we got was three days together in a hotel room.

After that, we each went back to our own cities.

I was about to book my ticket home when I realized I'd left my portable charger behind. I turned around halfway to the station.

At the hotel front desk, I asked, "I left something in my room. Would it be okay if I went up to grab it?"

The receptionist typed something into her computer, then looked up.

"Room 502 has actually been booked for three months straight. It's under your boyfriend's name. Want to head up and check?"

My stomach dropped.

Three months?

Max had just texted me saying he was already back at his parents' place. He'd even sent a photo to prove it, like he was worried I wouldn't believe him.

In the picture, he was tossing handfuls of grain to the chickens in the yard.

So who was in that hotel room?

——

A cold weight settled in my chest. I walked inside in a daze.

I hadn't even reached Room 502 yet.

But I could already hear them. Muffled, intimate sounds seeping through the door.

A girl giggled, her voice flirtatious and sweet.

"Max, you're so bad."

"You tricked your wife into going home just so I could keep you company here. What, one woman isn't enough for you?"

"Gotta build yourself a whole harem, huh?"

"If Madeline Henson ever found out you lied about your business trip and turned this hotel into your little love nest, she'd lose it."

A soft scoff, and then Max's voice drifted out, lazy and indifferent.

"Her? I got bored of her ages ago."

"I sent her packing early so I could spend real time with you. The next three days? I'm going to make sure you're taken care of, day and night."

The sound of him rolling on top of her.

Then everything behind that door became impossible to describe.

My scalp prickled. I nearly lost it right there in the hallway.

I wanted to kick the door down. I wanted to storm in and demand answers. Why?

Was I not enough for him? Or was lying to me just part of the thrill?

But the moment my hand touched the door, I pulled it back, trembling.

What's the point of making a scene?

I stood outside Room 502 and listened for two full hours.

Every emotion I'd ever felt tangled into a knot I couldn't undo.