HIS LAST SECRET

Chapter 1: 2:17 AM I greeted him "good evening" this morning. Didn’t even realize until he laughed softly and said, "Baby, it’s 8am." That’s how tired I am. That’s how much my brain hasn’t shut off lately. AI ads to fix. Deadlines piling up. Data class in a few hours. And him. Always him. He makes me feel safe. Like I can finally exhale and just be a woman again. God knows I stayed a whole year single to protect my peace. To protect me. I’m stubborn. I overthink every text. I replay every conversation. I fall apart quietly in bathrooms and come out smiling. But when he talks to me — calm, low, steady — the noise stops. For the first time in a long time, I let my guard down. I let myself believe that maybe this was different. That maybe he was different. Tonight should’ve been normal. We ordered food. Watched half a movie. He fell asleep with his arm around me and I watched him breathe. Safe. That’s what I kept telling myself. Safe. Now it’s 2:17 AM and I can’t sleep. My mind is running through everything. Work. Money. The presentation I forgot to send. Him. He’s in the shower. I can hear the water running. His phone is on the bed, face up. It buzzes. Once. Twice. Three times. I wasn’t going to look. I’m not that girl. The girl who checks phones. The girl who snoops. I spent a year building walls just so I wouldn’t have to feel like this again. But the screen lit up. Her ❤️ Miss you 😘 Can't wait to see you ❤️ I love our little secret 😘 My stomach dropped. The water was still running. And I was standing there, barefoot on the cold floor, holding his phone with shaking hands. "Her." With a heart. And a "little secret." I locked the phone before he could see me. Before I could see more. My chest felt too tight to breathe. For a year I chose peace. For a month I chose him. And in 3 texts, I don’t know what I chose anymore. The shower stopped. Footsteps. "Hey, you okay?" His voice was soft. Sleepy. I forced a smile and put the phone down. "Yeah. Just couldn’t sleep." He kissed my forehead like nothing was wrong. Like my world hadn’t just tilted. And I lay there next to him, staring at the ceiling, wondering when "safe" started feeling like "secret."