HIS LAST SECRET

HIS LAST SECRET - Chapter 3: Do I Ask?

Chapter 3: Do I Ask?

I should’ve asked him.

Right there. When he kissed my forehead and said "goodnight, baby".

But my voice got stuck in my throat.

Because what if he lied?

What if he told the truth?

Either way, something would break.

And I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to pick up the pieces.

I’ve spent a year building walls.

A year choosing peace over chaos.

A year telling myself I’d never be the girl who begged for answers again.

So I didn’t ask.

The next day I watched him.

Closely. Like I was studying him for the first time.

The way he checked his phone and quickly turned it face down when I walked in.

The way he said he was "working late" but came home smelling like perfume that wasn’t mine.

Sweet. Floral. Not the one I wear.

The way he still pulled me in for a hug like I was the only one.

Like his arms didn’t have secrets.

It was messing with my head.

At work I couldn’t focus. AI ads, deadlines, emails... none of it mattered.

All I could see was that note.

"Don’t ever find out.

I never stopped wanting you.

Meet me tonight?

- H"

H.

Her.

His last secret.

That night he was late again.

No text. No call.

Just silence.

The kind of silence that makes your mind fill in the blanks with the worst things.

I told myself to sleep.

Told myself to trust him.

Told myself I was being paranoid.

At 11:47 PM my phone buzzed.

Not him.

Unknown number.

"Ask him about H.

You deserve to know.

- A friend"

My blood went cold.

I sat up in bed so fast my head spun.

Who was this?

How did they know about H?

How did they know about me?

And why did it feel like I was the last one to find out about "His Last Secret"?

I stared at the message until the screen went dark.

Then I deleted it.

Like deleting it would delete the truth too.

My hands were shaking.

I opened his contact.

His name. His photo. His "I love you" under it from last week.

My thumb hovered over "call".

Do I ask and risk hearing a lie?

Do I ask and risk hearing the truth?

Do I stay quiet and keep the little peace I have left?

The room was too quiet.

My chest was too loud.

2:17 AM.

Again.

I didn’t call.

I put the phone down.

And I cried.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just quiet. The way I always do when I’m falling apart.

Because the scariest part isn’t that he might have a secret.

The scariest part is that I’m starting to think I already know what it is.

And I’m terrified of what happens after I say it out loud.