When Kevin had changed his profile picture, I'd been so happy. I'd searched for the matching one and set it as my own.
His expression had soured.
He said it was just a random image. He didn't want to flaunt our relationship in front of friends and family.
In the end, he'd practically forced me to change it back.
Camille's account had only a handful of followers.
But hundreds of posts—chronicling her love story with Kevin.
It had started last May. That's when the first hints appeared.
Poor boss has been stuck at the office for a month straight, eating nothing but takeout. I brought him some homemade chicken soup today, and he actually teared up. Makes you wonder what kind of girlfriend he has.
That was when Kevin's father had broken his leg.
To let Kevin focus on the company without distraction, none of us had told him.
I'd taken a full month off work. I'd run myself ragged caring for Ronald until he was discharged.
Afterward, my supervisor had quietly removed my name from the promotion list.
Boss pushed back so many projects just to take me on business trips—basically a paid vacation! Being spoiled feels incredible.
That was our ten-year anniversary. It was also my birthday.
I'd pulled an all-nighter to finish a project, scraped together three days off, and planned to surprise him.
He'd told me he had an important business trip. He simply couldn't get out of it.
Boss bought me a designer bag! The charm that came with it was kind of ugly though, so I'm leaving that for him.
I froze.
My eyes drifted to my phone case.
An identical charm dangled there—Kevin's belated birthday gift to me.
I'd treasured it for so long. I'd even covered it with a protective film.
It took me two hours to get through every post on Camille's account.
When I finished, I felt nothing but cold.
Not a single photo showed Kevin's face clearly.
But that familiar hem of his shirt, the matching couple's ring on his finger—every detail screamed the truth about who he was with.
Kevin had been cheating on me for a long time.
In the distance, fireworks exploded into the sky.
I snapped out of my daze, yanked the charm off with all my strength, and hurled it into the trash.
Ding—
Camille had sent something new.
This time, a voice recording.
In it, she asked in that coy, bratty tone of hers:
"Kevin, between me and your girlfriend—who do you love more?"
"Hmm?"
Kevin's voice sounded drowsy. Tender. Intimate.