I was seated on the couch, pretending to watch television, though I couldn't tell you what was playing. My mind had been elsewhere all day—stuck on June's house, on Kim's trembling voice over the phone, on the image of Albert pulling into another woman's driveway like it was routine.
Like it was home.
Albert dropped his car keys on the table and loosened his tie as he walked in. He looked tired, almost convincing enough to fool someone who didn't know him the way I did.
"Hey," he said casually. "You're quiet today."
I didn't respond immediately. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth too quickly, everything I had been holding back would spill out at once.
He glanced at me more closely then paused. "Susan… have you been crying?"
I shook my head quickly. Too quickly.
"No," I said, forcing my voice to sound steady. "I'm fine."
He frowned slightly and stepped closer. "Your eyes are swollen."
"I said I'm fine," I repeated, a little sharper this time.
He hesitated, then nodded slowly, as though deciding not to push. He sat on the opposite couch and reached for his phone, scrolling absentmindedly.
That was when it hit me.
The lie came so easily to him.
He didn't stutter.
He didn't sweat.
He didn't avoid my eyes.
It was seamless—like breathing.
"How was work?" I asked quietly.
"Busy," he replied without looking up. "Meetings back to back."
My heart clenched.
"What kind of meetings?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Clients. You know how it is."
I stared at him, really stared. The man I had married. The man who used to call me during lunch breaks just to hear my voice. The man who once swore honesty was the foundation of love.
And here he was, lying to me like it meant nothing.
"How can you do that?" I asked suddenly.
He looked up. "Do what?"
"Lie," I said. "How can you lie so easily?"
Albert stiffened. "What are you talking about?"
I laughed bitterly. "You didn't even think twice before answering. No pause. No guilt. Nothing."
"Susan—"
"Just answer me," I interrupted. "How can a man who claims to love his wife lie to her so effortlessly?"
He stood up. "I'm not lying to you."
I felt something inside me crack.
"Albert," I whispered, my voice shaking, "please. I'm begging you. Just be honest with me."
He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to tell me the truth about our marriage," I said, tears filling my eyes. "I want to know if you still want this. If you still want me."
His face softened then, just enough to confuse me.
"Of course I want you," he said quickly. "Susan, why would you even ask that?"
"Because I don't feel it anymore," I cried. "I don't feel chosen. I don't feel loved. I feel like a stranger in my own home."
He walked toward me and knelt in front of the couch, taking my hands in his.
"I love you," he said earnestly. "I've always loved you. I would never leave you."
My heart twisted painfully.
"You say that so well," I whispered. "Do you practice?"
His brows furrowed. "That's not fair."
"What's not fair is watching my husband slip away while pretending nothing is wrong!" I snapped.
"Susan, you're overthinking everything," he said. "Work has been stressful. That's all."
I pulled my hands away.
"Is there something going on between you and June?" I asked suddenly.
The room went silent.
Albert frowned—just slightly, just enough.
"No," he said. "Why would you even think that?"
Because you were at her house, I wanted to scream.
Because my best friend saw you there.
Because my heart knows.
But I said none of that.
"I just need to hear it from you," I said softly. "Tell me the truth."
"My business with June ends in the office," he replied firmly. "Nothing more."
My heart twitched violently in my chest, as though it had been stabbed.
The pain was physical.
"Oh," I whispered.
He stood up again. "I'm tired of having this conversation."
I nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"I see," I said.
I knew then that I was being foolish. Foolish for staying quiet. Foolish for protecting him when he wasn't protecting me. Foolish for loving a man who was slowly breaking me.
But love does that to you.
It blinds you.
Weakens you.
Keeps you hoping long after hope has died.
I turned away so he wouldn't see the tears falling freely now.
"I'm going to take a shower," he said after a moment.
"Okay," I replied hollowly.
As soon as the bathroom door closed, I collapsed against the couch, my body shaking with sobs. I pressed my fist into my mouth to keep from screaming.
How did it get here?
How did love become this painful?
I stayed there for a long time, staring into nothing, replaying every moment, every lie, every late night.
By the time Albert came out, wrapped in a towel, I had already made up my mind.
I would go to June.
I would look her in the eye and end whatever game she was playing with my husband.
I knew it was foolish. I knew it was beneath me. But I wasn't thinking clearly anymore. Pain had taken over logic.
I stood up suddenly.
"Where are you going?" Albert asked.
"Out," I replied.
"At this hour?"
"Yes."
He studied me suspiciously. "Can this wait till tomorrow?"
"No," I said firmly. "It can't."
He hesitated but said nothing.
As I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, something inside me whispered that I didn't need to do this.
That the truth would come to me whether I chased it or not.
I didn't know then that fate had already planned something far worse.
Because even as I stepped out of the house, determined to confront June, I had no idea that Albert was about to break what little of me was still holding on.
And this time—
There would be no putting the pieces back together.
And even as that thought settled heavily in my chest, my phone vibrated in my hand.
I froze.
For a brief, foolish second, I thought it might be Albert—calling to stop me, to confess, to finally tell the truth I had been begging for. My heart leapt at the possibility before my mind could stop it.
But when I looked at the screen, it wasn't him.
It was Kim.
I hesitated before answering, wiping my face quickly, trying to sound composed even though my insides felt shattered.
"Kim," I said softly.
"Susan," she replied immediately. "Are you okay?"
That was all it took.
My knees buckled and I leaned against the wall, pressing my back into it as though it could hold me together.
"No," I whispered. "I'm really not."
She didn't rush me. She never did.
I closed my eyes.
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
"I just spoke to him," I said finally. "He looked me in the eye and lied. So calmly. So easily."
Kim exhaled sharply on the other end of the line. "I'm so sorry, Susan."
"I asked him if he still wanted this marriage," I continued, my voice trembling. "He said yes. He said all the right things. He sounded convincing."
"That's the hardest part," Kim said. "When they lie with love on their lips."
I swallowed hard. "I was on my way to June's place."
She paused. "You don't need to do that."
"I know," I replied. "But I felt like I was losing my mind. Like if I didn't confront something—someone—I would completely disappear."
"You're not disappearing," Kim said firmly. "You're waking up."
Her words sank deep.
"I feel so stupid," I admitted. "I kept hoping he'd choose me again. That he'd remember his vows."
"You're not stupid," she said. "You're human. And you loved deeply."
I nodded even though she couldn't see me.
"What do I do now?" I asked.
"For now?" Kim replied. "You breathe. You protect your heart. And you don't make decisions while you're bleeding."
I leaned my head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.
"I don't recognize him anymore," I said. "Or maybe… this is who he's always been, and I just refused to see it."
"That realization hurts," Kim said softly. "But it's also where your strength begins."
I stood there for a long moment after the call ended, phone still clutched in my hand, heart pounding loudly in my ears.
Inside the house, I could hear the faint sound of the television coming on. Albert was settling in, comfortable, unbothered—while my world was crumbling.
I walked back into the living room quietly and sat down.
Albert glanced at me briefly, then looked away.
Nothing was said.
But everything had changed.
I stared at the wall across from me, my thoughts spiraling, my emotions tangled between love, rage, grief, and disbelief.
Somewhere deep inside, I knew this wasn't the end of the pain.
It was the beginning of clarity.
And clarity, I was learning, could hurt just as much as betrayal.