Chapter 004
1301 Words
~ Unveiling ~
Emily’s living room was a stark contrast to the turmoil inside Sarah’s chest. Soft sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, and the scent of fresh coffee filled the air.
Emily handed her friend a steaming mug and settled into the armchair across from her.
“So,” Emily said, her brow furrowed with concern, “You’re telling me Jake’s been acting shady, you found a receipt for a dinner for two, and you got some random text basically calling him out? Am I understanding you completely here?”
Sarah nodded, wrapping her fingers tightly around the mug. “I don’t know what to think anymore." I mean… What if I’m overreacting? What if I am just playing into someone's hands? He might actually be busy and someone is just trying to break us up, right? I mean… what if I—”
Emily leaned forward, cutting her off. “Sarah, stop. You’re not crazy. This isn’t normal. You have every right to be suspicious.”
Sarah was silent for a while, nursing her freshly brewed coffee.
“But what if I find out something I don’t want to know?” Sarah’s voice broke, the weight of her words sinking into the quiet room.
As simple and probably stupid as it sounded, it was a genuine question. Most women suspect their husbands of cheating and then get confused about what to do when they find out that they were right. She didn't want to be that kind of woman.
Emily reached out and softly held Sarah's wrist, her expression softening. “Whatever you find, you’ll deal with it. But you can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s clearly not. You can't keep living with whether he is cheating or not. It'll drive you nuts.”
Sarah swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to breathe. Emily was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. The fear that she was right, and he was cheating, and the fear that she was wrong, and she was just overthinking things… both weighed heavily on her. She knew either way it went, a lot was going to change if she chose to try to confirm Jake's loyalty to their marriage.
“If you want, I can help you,” Emily offered. “We’ll figure this out together, okay?”
Sarah let out a short sigh and shook her head. “No. I need to do this myself.”
She was going to get to the bottom of this, she wasn't going to let her husband slip out of her hands. If he was cheating, she was going to try to win him back. But she wasn't going to sit, arms folded, and watch her home crumble.
Later that evening , Sarah found her way back home. She sat at the dining table, her laptop open in front of her. The house was silent except for the occasional creak of the floorboards. Her hands hovered over the keyboard as she debated her next move.
She’d never invaded Jake’s privacy before. It felt wrong, like crossing an invisible line. But the receipt and the text kept on dancing in her mind, their implications large for her to just ignore.
‘Just one look,’ she told herself, as she opened Jake’s social media account.
She wasn't a social media person herself, so she barely paid attention to whatever he posted on his social media handles.
Scrolling through his account, his posts were sparse—pictures from work events, the occasional status update about a new project. Nothing unusual. But then, as she scrolled further, a name began to appear with unsettling frequency: Mia Grant.
She clicked on Mia’s profile, her heart racing. She prayed this Mia person was not proof that her husband was cheating on her.
Opening her profile, the first thing Sarah noticed was the perfection of it all.
Mia’s photos looked like they belonged in a magazine—sunlit brunches, glamorous evenings out, candid smiles that seemed anything but candid.
Sarah couldn't help but agree that Mia's looks were more than enough to sway any man's heart.
Her stomach turned as she scrolled through the images. And then she saw it: a photo of Mia at a dimly lit restaurant, raising a glass of wine. She clicked it and squinted her eyes, focusing on the background. It was blurry but unmistakable. She had known this man for years, she knew almost everything about him, including his sitting posture, and she knew the man in that picture was Jake.
She scrolled through the hashtags and Mia had typed the name of the restaurant, “Le Lumière”. The exact same restaurant on the receipt, and the picture was posted on the exact same date that was on the receipt.
Her breath hitched, and the laptop screen swam before her eyes. Her fingers began to tremble as she closed the browser and leaned back in her chair.
‘How did it come to this?’ she muttered in her thoughts as her eyes watered up.
The question hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. She had the proof she needed, but the question still remained: what was she going to do with it?
Jake didn’t come home until nearly midnight. The sound of the door opening jolted Sarah from her thoughts. She was sitting on the couch, the receipt crumpled up in the palm of her hand.
Jake stepped into the living room, his tie loosened and his face drawn with exhaustion—or was it guilt?
“You’re late,” Sarah said, her voice colder than she intended.
He glanced at her, his brow furrowing. Sarah had almost never complained about his lateness. At least, not directly, and definitely not with that tone.
“Long day. "I’m going to bed,” Jake said in a dismissive tone. It was just business as usual for him.
“No,” Sarah said, rising to her feet. “We need to talk.”
Jake was surprised by her tone, but he hid it well. He just sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Can this wait until morning?”
“No, it can’t.” Sarah said and held up the receipt, her hand shaking. “Care to explain this?”
His eyes flicked to the receipt, then back to her. His expression remained infuriatingly neutral. “It’s a work dinner. What about it?”
“Two nights ago? When you said you were working late?”
“Because I was,” he said, his tone calm and measured. “Sarah, this is ridiculous." Are you seriously accusing me of something?”
Her voice rose, trembling with anger and hurt. “I don’t know, Jake. Should I be?”
His face hardened, the patience slipping away. “You’re being paranoid. Do you hear yourself right now? Going through my stuff, making wild accusations… it’s not healthy, Sarah.”
His words hit her like a slap, leaving her stunned and speechless. He walked past her, heading toward the stairs.
“You’re deflecting,” she called after him, her voice breaking. “Why can’t you just tell me the truth?”
Jake paused at the foot of the stairs, his back to her. “Because there’s nothing to tell. Go to bed, Sarah,” he said and made his way to the bedroom, leaving Sarah to her thoughts and the pain of her defeat.
Sarah sat in the darkened living room long after Jake had gone upstairs. Her mind raced, replaying his words, his tone, his indifference.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen illuminating the room. She picked it up, and her breath froze as she read the message:
“If you want the truth, come to 425 Sycamore Street tomorrow at 8 PM.”
- Writer
