After They Betrayed Me, I Collected Proof

I clicked into the anonymous account again. The latest post had been uploaded two hours ago, the IP address showed it was from my city. Poster: [Thanks for checking in. Just hooked up again in the parking garage. She looked hot as hell in that wedding dress, but honestly, even better without it.] Attached was a blurry side-profile photo. The man leaned against a car, cigarette between his fingers. He had a sharp jawline and clean profile. And right beside his Adam's apple sat that light brown mole I knew too well. It was Brian Scott. My whole body went numb. At that exact moment, I'd been trying on veils, texting him like an i***t. Cheryl: Which one looks better? The stylist says the pearl one makes me look elegant. He didn't reply until two hours later. My chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe. I kept scrolling. Three months ago, another post. Poster: [My fiancée dragged me to shop for wedding rings today. Took her two damn hours to pick one out. Funny thing is, I gave it to her best friend later that night. Honestly, watching my fiancée seriously pick out rings was kinda hilarious. The lipstick on her best friend's mouth was the one she gifted her.] My eyes burned. Then my phone buzzed. A message from Brian. Brian: Baby, a client suddenly asked to meet tonight. Don't wait up for dinner. Love you. Usually, I would've replied with a bunch of caring messages, asking if he'd eaten, telling him not to work too hard. Today, it just made me sick. I opened his i********:. His latest post was our wedding photo shoot. Brian: [Forever starts now, Cheryl.] The comments were flooded with congratulations from mutual friends. Tracy Ford commented too. Tracy: [Stay happy forever!!!] Brian replied beneath it. Brian: [Thanks, babe.] Back then, I laughed and asked him, "Who are you calling babe?" Without missing a beat, Brian pulled me into his arms and smiled. "Typo. Obviously I mean my bride." Now I realized, maybe he meant exactly what he typed. I walked into the study and turned on the computer. I'd never checked before. I thought relationships needed trust, privacy. I searched one name, Tracy. Thousands of chat logs popped up instantly. The earliest ones dated back two years, not long after I introduced her to him. The further I scrolled, the uglier it got. Hotel bookings. Explicit messages. Even conversations about my period cycle and which days were "safe." The newest message had been sent this afternoon. Tracy: She's still trying on wedding dresses? That's hilarious. You know you're only wearing them for me to see anyway. You promised you'd sneak out to meet me. Brian: Of course. Once I get Cheryl to sleep. Don't forget to wear that black lace set I bought you. I saved every screenshot, every screen recording, then shut the laptop. Standing under the hot water later, I finally realized I was shaking. The girl staring back at me in the mirror looked pale as a ghost. Cry? Scream? Cause a scene? No. That would make things too easy for them. After my shower, I carefully did my makeup, full glam, flawless. Because I knew exactly where they were. On the drive there, memories kept flashing through my head. After my parents died in a car accident back in high school, Brian's family took me in. He fought off the guys who bullied me, carried me home on his back while I cried so hard I could barely breathe. "Cheryl, I've got you from now on." Back in college, when Brian started his business and had nothing, I stayed beside him through every miserable day. We lived off instant noodles for an entire month. I even secretly transferred him the money my parents left me. Three months ago, when he proposed, he knelt in front of me with trembling hands and promised he'd love me forever. Turns out forever is shorter than I thought. The car stopped outside the Riverhood Hotel. I walked into the lobby. The receptionist smiled politely as she approached me. "Good evening, ma'am." I said calmly, "I'm here to see Brian Scott in room 1708. I'm his fiancée. I came to drop something off."