Chapter 5: What If She Finds Out About Us?

Elena's POV

The notification caught my eye the moment I saw it. I tapped on the message thread from the rose-avatar contact saved as Sweet An, and two messages loaded on screen.

The first read:

What if she finds out about us?

The second:

Are you okay? I'm so worried about you!

"Elena, why aren't you asleep yet?"

Lucas's voice came out low and muzzy from sleep.

I quickly went back to the contact profile, hoping to find a phone number or any other detail she might have left. But before I could look—

"Elena?"

I heard him shift. Then a large hand hooked around my waist and pulled me back against him.

"Dropped my phone," I murmured.

Whoever this woman was, she'd been careful. No number, no additional information — nothing. And I was terrified Lucas would realize I'd been going through his phone, so I tossed it onto the bed and let him draw me into his arms.

My back was pressed against his chest, his breath warm on the nape of my neck. Once upon a time, I would have melted into him — turned around, wanted to be closer. But now the warmth of his body did nothing for me. Instead, a chill spread through me until I felt frozen solid, unable to breathe.

All I could think about was that rose avatar. Those two messages.

What if she finds out about us?

The she in that message — was that me?

What I had always feared had finally happened.

Lucas had someone else. He didn't love me anymore — or maybe he never had. All those years of warmth and tenderness, what had any of it meant? Why had he deceived me? I was no one special. What could he possibly have wanted from me?

I barely slept that night.

When Lucas finally woke and pressed a kiss to my forehead before heading toward the bathroom, I stopped him.

"Lucas, my phone isn't working. Could I use yours to call my mom?"

I wanted to see his face. I wanted to know whether he'd hand it over without hesitation — or whether the guilt would show.

His expression flickered. His eyes went to the phone on the bed. He picked it up, but instead of giving it to me, he closed his fingers around it.

"Elena, I completely forgot — my battery died." He gave me an easy smile. "I'll have someone bring you a brand new one today. That works, right?"

The disappointment settled in my chest like a stone. I'd seen the flicker of panic cross his face. I knew, in that moment, that whatever honesty had existed between us was gone.

Since he had something to hide and wasn't going to tell me the truth on his own, I wasn't about to push. I'd have to find another way.

I arranged my face into something soft and grateful. "Thank you, Lucas."

"Don't say things like that." He cupped my face in both hands and kissed me. "I'm your husband. Taking care of you is what I'm supposed to do."

I felt nothing.

It felt like a performance — deliberate, practiced. He was playing the role of a devoted husband while lying straight to my face.

"Elena," he began, "these next few days are going to be pretty hectic for me—"

His phone rang before he could finish. He glanced at the screen, and without a word, turned and walked quickly into the bathroom.

The door clicked shut.

He used to take every call in front of me without thinking twice.

I crossed the room on silent feet and pressed myself against the bathroom door, straining to hear.

Whatever Lucas sensed, he must have caught on — because all I heard before the call ended was a single, clipped sentence:

"Wait for me. I'm on my way."

The door swung open almost immediately.

I hadn't made it two steps away. He saw me.

"Elena. What are you doing standing there?"

I'd made up my mind. Some things were better said plainly.

I turned to face him, ready to ask directly — who was that woman? Who had just called?

But before I could speak, Lucas stepped forward and pulled me into his arms.

"I noticed last night," he said quietly, his voice close to my ear. "You were going through my phone."

"You suspected me of something, didn't you?"

I hadn't expected him to bring it up himself. For a moment I felt exposed — like someone who'd been caught doing something she shouldn't have, the words she'd prepared suddenly hard to find.

"Lucas." I steadied myself. "The rose avatar. The contact called Sweet An. Who is she?"

I'd decided that drowning in my own suspicion was worse than knowing the truth. And part of me still held onto hope — hope that he loved me, that there was an explanation, that what I feared wasn't what it appeared to be.

Lucas released me and took hold of my arms, holding me at arm's length. The face I knew — warm, handsome, easy with a smile — was gone. What I saw instead was something harder, something unfamiliar.

He was angry.

"Elena," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "I didn't think you'd distrust me like this."

"The woman you saw — she's just a friend."

"And she's not what you're imagining. I can't tell you who she is right now, but I need you to stay away from her. For your own safety. Do you understand?"

He kissed me before I could respond, then walked away to get ready. And just like that, the conversation was over.

I barely ate that day.

After Lucas left, his words circled endlessly in my head: she's just a friend — then why all the secrecy? Why warn me away from her? Was he protecting her? Protecting himself?

And yet — the anger on his face when he left. The disappointment. Expressions I had never seen from him before.

He was angry at me?

I was angry too. I was hurt too. And the reason I cared this much was because I loved him — because I still loved him, despite everything.

Without quite realizing it, I'd walked out of the house with two cups of freshly brewed coffee in hand.

Lucas had always loved my coffee. He said it was as good as anything you'd get at the best café in the city. Whenever he was exhausted or overwhelmed, I used to bring it to his office — sit with him, share a cup, talk about small, ordinary things until the tension in his shoulders eased.

I didn't have the heart to bring it to him today. I just needed to go somewhere, do something. So I got in the car and drove.

My best friend Mia Carter was waiting outside her office building. When she saw me walk up holding two cups, surprise lit up her face.

"Elena! What brings you all the way here?"

She took one of the cups, took a sip, and immediately declared it perfect.

Mia was one of the few people in my life I trusted completely. I didn't hold anything back — I told her everything.

"God, I knew it." Her expression darkened as I finished. "He swept you off to some private ceremony with no real wedding, no celebration, nothing — and I knew something was off. A man who loves a woman doesn't do that."

"After everything you've given him, how dare he betray you like this."

She set down her coffee and held out her hand. "Send me those messages. And the username."

I forwarded everything.

"Elena, give me a little time. I know someone — he's good with this kind of thing. He'll find out who she is. Just wait."

Less than an hour later, Mia's phone buzzed. She listened, and her face went hard.

"Elena." She looked like she wanted to throw her phone across the room. "The woman covered her tracks. Hired someone to block the trail — there's nothing to trace."

She paused. "But she slipped up somewhere. My contact managed to pull one thing: her phone number."

It was more than I'd expected.

I took down the number, and because I was worried the woman might recognize my voice — or my name — I borrowed Mia's phone instead.

Mia gave me an encouraging look. I took a slow breath.

And dialed.

It rang twice.

Then someone picked up.

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