Three years married to Max Matthews, and we'd been apart for nearly all of it. Our jobs kept us in different cities. Every reunion was hard-won, and every goodbye came too fast.
I'd treasured every single moment we had together. But looking back, Max had always been... off.
No wonder he'd been making excuses lately. "Babe, I'm exhausted. My back is killing me."
"We're an old married couple. We don't need to do it that often."
"And the whole situation with the condo falling through has me so stressed out. I'm just not in the mood."
I'd look at the fatigue on his face.
Every time, I'd feel sorry for him and back off.
It never occurred to me that he'd been saving his energy for the woman on the side.
Two hours later, my phone buzzed.
A text from Max.
"Baby, I miss you so much."
"It's so boring back home. There's not even a karaoke bar. All I do is lie in bed and sleep."
I stared at those words. My vision blurred, but a cold smile crept across my face.
Boring, huh?
So boring that all he did was stay in bed.
I let out a sharp laugh and hit the video call button.
Chaos erupted on the other end. Max panicked so hard he dropped his phone.
"What's wrong?" the girl whined, pouting.
"Crap. The old ball and chain is video-calling me."
"So pick up." The girl propped her chin on her hand, watching him with amusement.
"Are you kidding me? I just told her I was back home feeding chickens, and I've got a gorgeous woman in my arms. How the hell am I supposed to answer this?"
After a long, agonizing hesitation, Max finally accepted the call.
His camera was pitch black. His voice came through muffled, thick with feigned drowsiness. "Babe, what's wrong? I just fell asleep."
I knew he was faking it.
Even the nasal tone in his voice was a perfect imitation of someone half-asleep. Rehearsed.
Max and I had been married for three years. I'd landed a government position in another city, so we had no choice but to live apart. On the days we couldn't see each other, video calls were all we had.
But every few days, he'd tell me he was too tired from work, that he hadn't slept well, and hang up early.
Sometimes when I called without warning, he'd trot out the same excuse.
In that moment, everything clicked into place.
An apple doesn't rot overnight.
He'd been lying. And once a man starts lying, he never stops.
"Where are you?"
My voice was flat. Expressionless.