Chapter 2 .

ANABEL’S POV

My fingers trembled over the laptop as I looked at the screen, still trying to convince myself there had to be another explanation for what I was seeing.

Maybe I misunderstood something. Maybe my mind was twisting everything because of what happened last night.

But the more I went through the chat, the harder it became to lie to myself.

There were too many messages. Too many late-night conversations. Too many double texts sent minutes apart whenever she stopped replying.

Miles sounded desperate sometimes, like he waited around for her attention. The way he spoke to her didn’t even sound like the man I had been married to for three years. There was warmth in his messages. Effort. Emotion.

Things he stopped giving me a long time ago.

A lump formed in my throat as I continued reading, each new message making it harder to breathe.

'I miss you.' 

'Call me when you can.'

'You have no idea what you do to me.'

Miles barely texted me anymore unless it was something practical. Most days our conversations were reduced to bills, schedules, or him telling me he would be home late. Somewhere along the line, we stopped sounding like a married couple. But more like a roommate.

But here… here he sounded alive.

A shaky breath escaped me as I scrolled farther and noticed receipts attached beneath some of the messages. I frowned.

Flower deliveries. Jewelry payments. Money transfers. Hotel reservations.

I opened one of the receipts properly, and the amount attached to it made my breath catch. Thousands of dollars spent without hesitation. Thoughtful gifts. Expensive gifts. The kind of effort he had never once put into our marriage no matter how many times I quietly hoped he eventually would.

A bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

Three years of marriage, and the last flowers Miles bought me were from our first anniversary. Even then, I remembered reminding him about it three different times before he finally ordered them at the last minute.

Fresh tears blurred my vision. I blinked hard and forced myself to continue even though every new thing I found hurt even more.

Then I saw the pictures.

My breath caught as the image loaded fully on the screen. It was Miles and Cierra together in what looked like a luxury hotel room, sitting on a bed with white sheets tangled around them. Cierra smiled at the camera while Miles kissed the side of her face, his arms wrapped comfortably around her waist. As if that was where he belonged.

Nothing about the picture looked awkward or forced. They looked natural together. Happy.

My fingers pressed against my lips. "No…” I whispered.

Then my attention shifted toward the date beneath the picture. My entire body went cold. For a second, I genuinely forgot how to breathe. That entire night rushed back into my head so fast it nearly made me sick.

It was taken on our anniversary.

I remembered standing in front of the mirror for almost an hour trying on different lingerie because I wanted to surprise him. I remembered setting the dining table myself with candles and wine, making his favorite meal even though cooking it took hours. I remembered checking the time repeatedly while the food slowly turned cold.

Then eventually my phone buzzed. 'Busy at work tonight. Don’t wait up.' 

That was all he sent me. Meanwhile, he had been here with her.

A broken sound escaped my throat before I could stop it, and emotion burned behind my eyes almost immediately. I pressed my lips together tightly as my grip on the phone weakened.

I didn’t even fully know why I started taking pictures of everything. Part of me was terrified that this would somehow disappear. Another part already knew Miles would deny everything if I confronted him without proof. Or maybe I just needed something solid to hold onto so I wouldn’t eventually convince myself I imagined all this.

So I photographed everything. The receipts. The messages. The pictures.

And somehow the thing hurting me the most was realizing Miles still knew how to love someone properly. It just wasn’t me anymore.

When I finally stopped, numbness had spread through my hands. I shut the laptop abruptly and flinched at the sound it made in the quiet room. For a few seconds, I stood there looking at the closed screen while my thoughts crashed painfully into each other.

Cierra.

My husband’s brother’s wife.

Even thinking about it made me nauseous.

I pushed myself away from the desk too quickly and nearly lost my balance. My hand caught the edge of the table immediately as the room tilted slightly around me. The air suddenly became too heavy to breathe properly.

I forced myself back toward the bedroom.

The television was still playing softly in the background, but I barely noticed it. My thoughts kept dragging me through memories that looked completely different now.

Things I once brushed off as harmless replayed themselves in ugly new ways.

I remembered catching Miles staring at Cierra once during a family barbecue. At the time, I laughed about it because she had accidentally spilled a drink on herself. But now I remembered how quickly he looked away the second he noticed me watching him.

I remembered another time when she casually mentioned liking a particular expensive perfume during dinner at a family getaway. Two days later, she suddenly owned the exact bottle even though her husband joked about not knowing where it came from.

Back then, nobody thought anything of it. Now the memory made my stomach drop.

I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed and covered my face with both hands. I felt humiliated. Angry at myself for missing all the signs. But underneath all of it, I still loved him.

Maybe that was the worst part.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my phone and called Chloe. The call barely rang twice before she answered.

“Ana?”

The moment I heard her voice, something inside me broke apart.

“Chloe…” My voice cracked instantly.

Concern immediately filled her tone. “Whoa, hey. What happened? Are you crying?”

I wiped roughly at my face even though the tears still wouldn’t stop falling. “Miles is cheating on me.”

The line went silent.

Then, “What?”

“I checked his laptop,” I whispered. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I kept feeling something was wrong.”

“What did you find?”

“So many messages,” I said, struggling to steady my breathing. “Pictures. Hotel bookings. Gifts. Money transfers to another woman…”

“Oh my God.”

I shut my eyes tightly. “He’s been lying to me for months.”

Chloe stayed quiet for a moment before asking softly, “Who is she? Do you know her?”

A lump rose painfully in my throat. Because saying it out loud would make everything even more real.

“It’s Cierra.”

"Cierra? Wait..." There was a loud gasp on the other end of the call. "What? Miles’ brother’s wife?”

Fresh tears slipped down my cheeks immediately. “Yes.”

“Oh my God, Ana…”

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “I genuinely don’t understand how this happened.”

“Does his brother know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does she..."

“I said I don’t know!” I snapped before covering my mouth.

Silence filled the line.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered immediately afterward. “I’m sorry…”

“No, hey, it’s okay,” Chloe said gently. “You’re overwhelmed right now. I understand."

I pressed trembling fingers against my forehead while trying to steady myself. The television continued talking quietly in the background until one sentence suddenly caught my attention.

“…tragic accident involving Wilson’s eldest son…”

I frowned.

Chloe was still speaking, but her voice had already faded into the background as my attention shifted toward the television.

“…the accident occurred late last night…” The words made me look up instantly.

A chill ran through me.

I turned toward the screen. Then a picture appeared. And my entire body went still. For a second, I genuinely thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But it wasn’t.

I recognized the man on the television immediately. The words beneath the picture blurred for a moment before settling clearly into place. 

DEAD AFTER LATE-NIGHT CAR ACCIDENT

My mouth went dry.

Behind me, Chloe continued calling my name through the phone, but I barely heard her over the pounding in my chest.

The news anchor continued speaking calmly.

I watched the television in stunned silence, my thoughts spinning in completely different directions now.

“Chloe…” My voice barely sounded like mine anymore.

“What happened?” she asked immediately. "Why weren't you answering me?"

I swallowed hard without taking my eyes off the television. 

“Cierra’s husband is dead.”