Kim held me tightly as I cried, not asking questions, not trying to stop me—just silence and gentle pats on my back, the kind that said I'm here without needing words. Her arms were firm and steady, grounding me when everything inside felt like it was breaking apart. I cried into her shoulder the way I hadn't cried in a long time, the tears messy and uncontrollable, as though years of bottled-up pain had finally found a way out.
She didn't rush me.
She didn't pry.
She simply stayed.
For a long moment, the world around us faded. The soft hum of conversations, the clinking of cutlery, the low music playing in the background—all of it blurred into nothing as I let myself fall apart in her arms. I hadn't realized how much strength I had been forcing myself to carry until it slipped from my grasp.
Slowly, my sobs weakened. My breathing steadied, though my chest still felt tight and sore, like I had been holding my breath for far too long. When I finally pulled away, my eyes burned and my face felt damp and swollen.
Kim reached into her bag and pulled out a pack of tissues, sliding it toward me across the table.
"Clean up," she said gently as we both settled back into our seats.
I dabbed at my eyes and nose, embarrassed but oddly relieved. Kim lifted her hand slightly to catch the waiter's attention.
"Can we get two glasses of red wine, please?" she asked.
"Sure, ma'am. Anything else?" the waiter replied.
"None for now," she said with a polite smile.
When he left, Kim's gaze returned to me, her expression shifting instantly from casual concern to something deeper, more focused. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.
I nodded.
"You know you can always talk to me," she continued. "You won't always be strong, Susan. And honestly? You don't have to be."
Her words struck something tender inside me. I swallowed hard, my throat tightening again.
The waiter returned with the wine and placed the glasses carefully on the table. Kim murmured a quick thank you, and he nodded before walking away.
I wrapped my fingers around the stem of the glass, the coolness grounding me. I took a long sip, letting the wine burn slightly as it slid down my throat, as if it might give me the courage I needed.
"My husband is cheating on me," I said quietly.
Kim froze.
Her jaw dropped, her eyes widening as though she hadn't heard me correctly. "What?" she exclaimed. "Girl, what are you saying?"
I looked down at my glass. "I'm serious."
"Are you sure?" she asked quickly. "Do you have proof? Evidence?"
"Kim, I'm sure," I replied, straightening in my seat. "Late nights. Unanswered calls. Sneaky movements. The way he guards his phone now. And he changed his password." I listed them slowly, each word heavier than the last.
Kim was silent for a few seconds, her brows drawn together as she processed everything.
"That's bad, babe," she finally said carefully. "But… it's not solid proof. Not yet."
My chest tightened. "Kim, I live with this man. I'm married to him. I know when something is wrong. Albert has changed."
She sighed softly. "Okay. Do you know who the other woman is?"
I hesitated, shame creeping into my voice. "I think it's his ex-girlfriend. June."
"Ex?" Kim repeated sharply. "Who in their right mind goes back to their ex?"
She studied my face closely. "Are you sure about this?"
"I have every reason to believe so," I said. "She works in the same office with him now. And ever since she joined, Albert has been working late. There's always an excuse—client meetings, office dinners, night-outs."
My voice cracked. "It's never-ending."
Kim leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. "Have you confronted him?"
"Yes," I replied. "Last night. He didn't deny it, but he didn't admit anything either. He twisted everything, made me sound paranoid." I shook my head bitterly. "This morning, he told me he knew I didn't mean my outburst."
I laughed humorlessly. "Like I imagined everything."
Kim reached across the table and held my hand firmly.
"He's trying to make you doubt yourself," she said. "That's not okay."
"He's cheating on me," I whispered, tears threatening again. "I know it."
Kim rubbed my hand soothingly. "I'm so sorry, Susan."
"I don't know what to do," I admitted. "I love Albert. I never imagined he could do this to me."
"Of course you love him," she said softly. "That's why this hurts so much."
She paused. "What do you want to do?"
"I don't know," I replied. "I just wish he'd be honest. I wish he'd come clean. I wish he was still the man I married."
My voice broke. "Loyal. Loving. Caring."
"Do you want to leave?" Kim asked gently.
I lifted my head and met her gaze. "Not without knowing the truth."
She nodded slowly. "Tell me about this woman. This ex."
"Her name is June," I said. "She's beautiful—not shallow beauty. Hers is deep. Enchanting. She dated Albert for years before me." I scoffed softly. "She's proud. Thinks the world revolves around her bum."
Kim raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't it?"
I laughed weakly. "Apparently. Or maybe my husband does."
Tears filled my eyes again. "She refuses to let him be. She texts, calls. I ran into her at the supermarket once. She was brazen—so confident. She told me Albert comes to her whenever she wants."
Kim stiffened. "She said that to you?"
"Yes."
"And Albert?" she asked sharply.
"He dismissed it," I replied. "Said she was frustrated."
Kim shook her head. "You didn't believe that."
"I wanted to," I admitted. "But I knew better."
Kim leaned forward, her voice firm. "Do you want the truth?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation.
She studied me. "Once you know, there's no undoing the pain."
"I know," I said quietly. "But I won't be treated like a fool anymore."
Kim nodded. "Then I'll help you. We'll find the truth—together."
Relief washed over me.
"Thank you," I whispered.
She smiled. "Now let's eat. You need strength."
We ordered food and ate, talking about lighter things—about life, freedom, mistakes. For a moment, I felt like myself again.
As I drove home later that evening, the road was quiet.
Too quiet.
And deep down, I knew—
peace like this never lasts forever.