My Husband Booked Three Lunches, I Found Her

I was scrolling through i********: on my husband, Peter Chapman's phone. Hunks kept popping up one after another on the recommendation feed. After parking the car, Peter wrapped his arms around me, looking all wronged, "Hey! My dear Marie's fallen for someone else, ignoring your own husband to gawk at hunks, huh?" Sweet talk like that always rolled off his tongue without effort. In ten years of marriage, I had never touched his phone before, but those three lunch orders had been weighing on my mind nonstop. He smiled and brushed the tip of my nose. "See for yourself! All that's on my phone is guys. Do you believe me now? Silly Marie, you're the only one in my heart." Looking at his open, unguarded smile, an inexplicable sense of guilt welled up in my chest. We had been married for ten years, and we knew each other's habits better than anyone. I had known for ages that Peter liked to back up everything he did. How could I suspect him just because of one phone call? Blushing, I awkwardly put his phone down. "I was just bored on the road, scrolling around casually." Peter laughed and kissed me on the cheek. "My wife cares about me but won't admit it, huh? Well, the more jealous you get, the happier I am! You can use my phone any time, look through anything you want. If you're happy, I'm happy." Peter had always been gentle like this, and he gave me a hundred percent patience, always. Everyone was intimidated by my dear Mr. Chapman, but I was over here walking all over him every day and still taking his kindness for granted. Sometimes I even gave him the cold shoulder for no real reason. He adored me more than anything, yet here I was doubting him. It was completely wrong of me. For this cruise trip, we booked the best suite, with an endless expanse of ocean stretching out before our eyes. We'd just set down our luggage when Peter started complaining he was sweaty and needed a shower. But it was still early spring. The sound of rushing water echoed from the shower, when suddenly, Peter's phone pinged with a new incoming message. This time, I'd already made up my mind not to touch his phone, but the notifications just kept ringing one after another. My heart tightened, and I tapped the screen open anyway. Cruise Belle: Pete, remember to use the strawberry body wash, okay? This is the only scent I like. Otherwise, when I come over later, I won't get to lie on top of you and scroll through i********:. My heart tightened, and I realized that all those videos of hunks on Peter's i********: were just her scrolling for fun. And Pete? How intimate. Everyone respectfully calls him Mr. Chapman, and even in private, everyone calls him something like Bogeyman for him. Then again, if she's already been lying on top of Peter, what nickname is off-limits for her? Her contact name was Cruise Belle, and her profile page was nothing but cruise activity schedules. At first glance, she looked just like an ordinary work contact, but I still felt something off and unsettling from how she addressed him. And then Belle sent a photo.