Chapter 5

Staring at the phone, I was unable to process what was happening. 

None of this made sense.

Why did Misha change his password? Why hadn’t he told me?

As I stood there puzzled, the mysterious caller kept sending more messages. 

Misha’s phone always shows a small preview of each time he receives a text. This time his phone chimes and the preview read, “Do you like my new lingerie?” 

The next message, from the same number, was several linked pictures followed by another short sentence of text. “What do you think? Is this sexy enough?”

I couldn’t see the image, but I didn’t need to.

I had seen enough. 

The blood drained from my hands leaving me cold as the truth sunk in: Misha was cheating on me. 

My hands were hands shaking with anger by the time Misha came out of the bathroom, steam curling around his mostly naked body.

“Hey, Angel,” he grinned when he noticed me, “Welcome home…” 

I looked up, and Misha froze, the next words falling silent as his eyes met mine. “What’s wrong, Ari? Did something happen?”

I struggled to keep my voice even as I held up his phone and asked, “Who is she?”

Stepping forward, Misha’s eyes narrowed, and then widened, before snatching the phone from my hand. Unlocking it, he pressed the call button, putting his phone on speaker.

“Hello?” a woman’s gentle voice rang across the phone. “Ba…” 

“Mavis,” Misha snapped as soon as the line connected. “What kind of game are you playing? This is company time! I don’t pay you to behave like a prostitute!” 

Misha’s chest heaved, his face red as his loud breathing filled the room. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him this angry before. We both stood there, the silence stretching, as the two of us glared at the phone in his hands,

“OH MY GOD! Boss I’m so sorry,” Mavis eventually replied a few beats later. “I meant to send that to my boyfriend. I must have hit the wrong contact. I swear, it was an accident!”

“Accident or not, this shouldn’t have happened,” Misha’s face hardened into an unreadable mask as he added, “and if you ever do something like this again, you’re fired. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir! I’m so sorry!” Mavis responded in a rush. “It’ll never happen again!” 

The phone call disconnected leaving the two of us alone in a quiet room. 

Sighing, Misha tossed the phone onto the foot of the bed. “See, Ariana, it was just a simple mistake. Did you really think that because of those messages I was betraying you?”

His attitude eased some of my suspicions, but I still frowned as I asked, “Then why did you change your password?”

“Oh, is that what this is?” Stepping closer, he reaches out a hand to smooth away a strand of my hair. “We had a data breach at work and our security team required everyone to change their password. The new code is our wedding anniversary. Want me to show you?”

Retrieving the phone, he held it between us as he slowly punched in the date of our wedding. “Here, you try,” Misha encouraged, turning the phone towards me. 

The new code worked instantly, opening the phone to its bright, cheery home screen.

I nodded, forcing a small smile, telling myself not to overthink it.

Closing the distance between us, Misha kissed my forehead gently, rubbing my back as he said in a slow, soothing purr, “I’d never do anything to hurt you, Ariana. You know that, right? You are my heart.” 

As he said this, the familiar, woodsy scent of his usual bodywash wrapped around me and I let him hold me to his chest.

“Come,” he urged, as he walked us both back towards the bed. “Let me remind you how much you mean to

me.” 

I wanted to give in. 

But instead, I pushed away gently. 

“I’m tired,” I confessed softly, unable to meet his eyes as he gazed down at me. 

“That’s okay,” Misha smiled into my hair. “Rest. I’ll be right here.” 

That night, we went to bed early, his arms wrapped around me as he fell asleep by my side. My heart and mind were still racing, sleep eluding me. My eyes wide open, I stared at the clock, wishing to God that I could just close my eyes and drift away. 

Just as I relaxed, my body on the verge of sleep, my husband’s voice broke the overwhelming quiet of the room. “...Baby...” 

He never called me “Baby.” Since the moment we fell in love, he’d call me Ari, or maybe Angel, even in moments of passion. 

“Misha?” 

“...shh, Baby. We need to be quiet…” he mumbled, still sleeping, his hands moving to pull me into him. 

I froze, my heart shattering as his hardness pressed into my rear. Whoever he was dreaming about had him aroused, grinding against me in his sleep. 

As fresh tears rolled down my cheeks, a sliver of moonlight shone on a photo framed near out bedside. It was from the day he proposed. It had been a perfect spring day, and standing next to a waterfall, he wrapped me in his arms and promised to love me forever. 

Even now I can hear his voice in my head. “Marry me, Ariana. You are my angel, my reason for living and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you.” 

I had said yes, imagining a future with the two of us laughing and happy, and completely in love, surrounded by our children and loved ones. There’d be birthday parties and barbeques, sleepovers and swim parties, and eventually weddings and grandchildren as we grew old together, watching our family grow. 

I still wanted to believe in this future. 

But as I lay there, trapped in my husband’s arms, he seems like a complete stranger. 

“He wouldn’t cheat on me,” I whispered into the darkness, another tear rolling down my cheek. “He couldn’t…not after everything…"

Biting back a sob, I remembered Misha as the smiling young man, looking up at her with so much gratitude as I helped him recover. The same man who once stood in the rain to keep me dry with his umbrella, who made every password her birthday. 

A man who would whisper, “Angel,” in his dreams. 

Where did he go? 

Because I couldn’t recognize him anymore in the man lying next to me.

*****

Dawn came without sleep, and as soon as Misha got up to start his day, I realized it was pointless to pretend any longer. As soon as our front door closed and locked, I pushed myself out of bed and stumbled into my office. As part of my doctorate, I was required to submit articles for publication and my research had been accepted into one of the nation’s top medical journals. I just needed to send my final draft. 

By the time I was done, I was overdue for breakfast. After my hard day yesterday followed by a completely sleepless night, I decided to treat myself to a coffee and headed to my favorite cafe. It was across town, near the business sector, but they made the best handmade pastries in the city and I was craving a chocolate croissant. 

Despite the gloom settling over my heart, the sky was clear and sunny. It was going to be another beautiful day. Maybe I should enjoy my coffee in the cafe's garden, now that I’ve gotten the last bit of my big project finished. It could be the perfect medicine to cure my current funk.

Stepping out of my car, I joined the line that already snaked out the front door to the nearby corner. In the center of Manhattan, it was a popular place for the local businesses, including Carter Tech, which was only two blocks away. Misha preferred his coffee black, and usually didn’t bother with shops like this. “A waste of money,” he’d say whenever I wanted to stop by. Despite having always had money, he found the expense of purchasing a dairy-free latte with flavored syrups an “obscene expense” often grumbling, saying things like “$8, for a cup of coffee? Are the beans made of gold?”   

Even now, I could almost hear him. 

“Two hazelnut oatmilk lattes,” he said in my head, placing an order with the barista. 

Except he’d never say that. Even when I’d ask, he’d insist on getting two black coffees. 

And yet, I heard his voice as clearly as if he were in the same room as me. 

“Would it be okay for me to get a maple scone?” a female voice asked a moment later. “Please.”

I recognized that voice. It was the same woman who had sent those messages last night. My head snapped around, looking for the source.

Standing next to the counter at the front of the line was a beautiful, petite woman with long blonde hair pulled back into a professional looking bun. Her eyes sparkled as she looked up adoringly at the handsome man standing next to her. 

My husband. 

“Sure thing,” he grinned, looking at her like she hung the stars and the moon, “anything you want.” 

As he handed the person behind the counter his credit card, he leaned in, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind one of her delicate ears. A pretty pink blush spread across her cheeks as the side of his body lined up perfectly with hers. 

They were standing far to close as his hand guided her towards the pick up line. A few moments later, they turned, lattes in hand. Feeling sick, I pushed my way out of line and hid behind a nearby tree as they walked out of the shop, my heart racing. 

But not because of fear of discovery, or because my husband was flirting with another woman in broad daylight. 

No, I was terrified because finally, everything had started to fall together in my mind with perfect clarity. 

Misha had changed–he wasn’t the man I married anymore. 

He quit smoking, started working out, tried new things…

He was becoming a better person. But not for me, not even for himself. 

It was for her. 

Bitting my lip with enough force that I tasted blood, I swallowed a scream as my heart shattered, my soul burning with the pain of a thousand tiny cuts. 

Because in that moment I realized that the one person in the world that I loved more than anyone, the man I had changed my entire world for… maybe never really loved me at all. 

As I held my breath, watching the two of them leave together, my phone rang, startling me back to reality. 

“Hello?” I answered, my hands shaking. 

“Ariana McKenna” the voice on the other end was articulated and refined with an undercurrent of genuine warmth. "Are you available? I read your latest paper. It's brilliant by the way." 

It was Ryland Winchester, my advisor from my university days. I hadn’t heard from him in ages, not since I dropped out of school.

It’s only been three years, but it feels like forever ago. 

“I showed your paper to the rest of my team. They were impressed. How would you like a fully-funded research position…” 

Gasping, I almost dropped my phone. 

“Professor Winchester, I’m flattered but I can’t…” I started to say. 

But he interrupts me. “Read our offer first, then make a decision. We are confident you'll make the right choice."