Betray Me Once, Regret Forever

The first thing I noticed was the lipstick. Not the red lipstick on his collar. The lipstick on his lips. It wasn't mine. I stared at my boyfriend from across the restaurant, watching him laugh at something his friends had said. He looked completely normal relaxed, handsome, confident. Like he hadn't just walked into the restaurant twenty minutes late. Like he hadn't ignored my calls. Like he hadn't spent the entire afternoon telling me he was “busy.” I slowly placed my phone on the table. “Sorry,” he said, finally looking at me. “Traffic.” I smiled. “It's okay.” He smiled back. That was the moment I knew something was wrong. Because I knew him. And he was lying. For the past three years, I had memorized every little thing about him. The way he scratched his eyebrow when he was nervous. The way he avoided eye contact when he was hiding something. And right now? He couldn't look at me for more than two seconds. “So,” I said casually, picking up my drink. “How was your day?” “Busy.” “With work?” “Yeah.” I nodded. “Interesting.” He frowned. “Why?” “No reason.” I took another sip. Across the table, my best friend, Vanessa, suddenly appeared. “Sorry I'm late!” she said brightly. I looked at her. Then at him. Then back at her. She was wearing the same perfume I had given her last month. The same perfume she had told me she loved. My boyfriend immediately smiled when he saw her. Not a normal smile. A familiar one. A smile that suddenly made every late-night excuse, every unanswered message, every “I'm too tired to call” make sense. Vanessa sat beside me. “You look gorgeous tonight,” she told me. “So do you.” She smiled. “Thank you.” I looked down at her hand. There was a small scratch on her wrist. I remembered seeing that exact scratch on my boyfriend's neck yesterday. My stomach twisted. But my face stayed calm. I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. “Can I ask you something?” I said. Vanessa looked at me. “Of course.” “Do you believe people deserve second chances?” She blinked. “Of course.” I smiled. “Good.” My boyfriend finally looked at me. There was something nervous in his eyes. I leaned back in my chair. “Because I'm very generous.” His shoulders relaxed. Too soon. I continued. “I usually give people three chances.” He smiled nervously. “Three?” “First chance,” I said, holding up one finger, “when they make a mistake.” A second finger. “Second chance when they lie about it.” A third. “And the third?” I smiled sweetly. “When I let them believe I still don't know the truth.” Silence. Vanessa stopped smiling. My boyfriend's face went pale. I picked up my phone. “I'll see you both later.” I stood. “Wait,” he said. “Where are you going?” “Home.” “Are you mad?” I looked at him. “No.” And that was the truth. I wasn't mad. Not anymore. I was disappointed. But beneath the disappointment was something else. Something colder. I walked out of the restaurant without looking back. My hands were shaking as soon as I reached the parking lot. I leaned against my car and closed my eyes. For three years, I had defended him. I had defended him when people said he wasn't serious. I had defended him when he forgot our anniversary. I had defended him when he disappeared for hours. And worst of all, I had defended Vanessa. My best friend. The woman who knew everything about my relationship. The woman who knew every insecurity I had. The woman I trusted enough to leave alone with him. I opened my phone. There were hundreds of messages between us. Pictures. Memories. Promises. I stared at one particular message from two years ago. Him: I'll never hurt you. I laughed quietly. “Wow.” I opened my camera and took a picture of myself. My eyes were red, but I wasn't crying. I looked tired. Broken, maybe. But not defeated. Then my phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number. Unknown: You shouldn't trust your boyfriend. I stared at the screen. Another message appeared. Unknown: And definitely don't trust Vanessa. My heart stopped. I typed back. Me: Who is this? Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. Finally: Unknown: Someone who knows what they've been doing behind your back. I stared at the message. Before I could reply, another photo arrived. My breath caught. It was my boyfriend. With Vanessa. Together. Not at a restaurant. Not with friends. In a hotel lobby. The timestamp was from three weeks ago. I zoomed in. His hand was around her waist. Her head was resting against his shoulder. I felt something inside me crack. Then another message appeared. Unknown: You want revenge, don't you? I stared at those words. For a moment, I considered deleting the conversation. Instead, I smiled. Me: No. The reply came almost immediately. Unknown: Then what do you want? I typed: Me: I want them to think they got away with it. I put my phone in my pocket. Because suddenly, I wasn't interested in confronting them. I wasn't interested in screaming. I wasn't interested in begging for an explanation. I wanted them comfortable. I wanted them confident. I wanted them to continue believing I was the same trusting girl they'd been fooling for months. Because people made mistakes when they thought they were safe. And I was about to make them feel very safe. The next morning, my boyfriend arrived at my apartment carrying flowers. “Good morning, beautiful.” I opened the door. “Good morning.” He kissed my forehead. I smiled. “You're not mad anymore?” “Mad?” He laughed nervously. “About last night.” “Oh.” I took the flowers from him. “I forgot about it.” His expression softened. “Really?” “Really.” He hugged me. I hugged him back. But my eyes were open. Over his shoulder, I noticed the faint lipstick stain on his shirt. The same shade. The same perfume. The same lie. I pulled away. “I made breakfast.” His face brightened. “You're the best.” “I know.” He laughed. “You're different today.” I looked at him innocently. “Different how?” “I don't know.” He smiled. “You seem… happier.” I smiled wider. “I am.” Because I had finally learned something important. You don't have to scream when someone betrays you. Sometimes the most terrifying response is silence. Sometimes the most painful revenge is letting a liar continue lying until the truth destroys them. And sometimes... The girl they thought they could fool becomes the woman they wish they had never crossed. I looked at my boyfriend. He had no idea. Vanessa had no idea. Neither of them knew that I already had the evidence. And they certainly didn't know that someone else was helping me uncover everything. I picked up my coffee. Then my phone buzzed. One new message. Unknown: Good morning, trouble. I frowned. Another message followed. Unknown: Ready to ruin two people's week? I couldn't help smiling. Me: Who said I'm ruining their week? The reply came instantly. Unknown: You. I stared at the screen. Then another message appeared. Unknown: You just haven't admitted yet that you're enjoying this. I laughed under my breath. Maybe I was. And for the first time since discovering the betrayal... I wasn't afraid of what would happen next. I was curious. Very curious. Because whoever this mysterious stranger was... He clearly knew how to play the game. And apparently, so did I.