LOGINYou could say that I had two wake up calls that day, but the true depth of their meaning would become clear later, when I got home to check my email.
There were two new messages at the top of my inbox. The first was from Dr. Ryland Winchester and the HR department of Haven Medical Group.
The second one was from the camera I had installed in the car.
My heart skipped. Good news, bad news–which one do I open first?
Exhaling, I chose to look at the offer letter.
It was a generous offer–far more generous than I was expecting. If I took the position, not only would I get an opportunity to work on a fully-funded research team among some of the country’s physicians, including my old mentor Professor Winchester, I would be paid handsomely for my services–three times what I’d make here in NYC for any of the local hospitals.
It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A reset button on the last three years.
It would be like I never gave up my future to support Misha with his.
Even as I stared at the offer, I couldn’t bring myself to feel the excitement I knew I should.
Part of me wanted to believe I was still capable of this—of stepping back into a world I had walked away from years ago. But another part whispered all the reasons I shouldn’t. I had been out of academia for too long. I was rusty. Behind. Out of place.
Saying yes felt reckless.
And then there was reality. Misha would never give up his career to follow me, and his life was firmly rooted in New York, tied to Carter Tech. California felt impossibly far away—less like a destination and more like a fantasy.
I didn’t know if I could truly separate from Misha. My mind was in complete chaos…
“I’ll write him back tomorrow,” I promised myself as I filed the message away to deal with later. “Tell him I can’t do it. That would be the professional thing to do.”
Sighing, I looked back at my email. The other unopened message was waiting. With a nervous click, I opened it to find hours of footage along with summaries and GPS data of locations and times.
As I scrolled, I noticed a pattern.
Misha visited the same residential complex over and over again on multiple days, always at the same time in the morning, and then later at night. My chest tightened as I compared the night drop off dates to the last week of “late nights” at the office.
They were a perfect match.
“Maybe it’s just a coincidence,” I said more for myself than for his sake. “It doesn’t mean anything. He could be meeting a client.”
But even as I said this, my heart knew I was fooling myself.
I slept poorly that night, not just because Misha didn’t return until after midnight, but also because my mind couldn’t let go of the events of the day. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could see the pretty blonde smiling up at my husband like he was her everything, and my stomach clenched with anxiety and disgust.
And yet, the next morning, I woke up an hour earlier than normal, left a note saying I was “going for a run” and took my car to the other side of the town–not to the gym, but to the address displayed in the tracking app.
Parking across the street in a narrow alley, I looked down at my watch and waited.
And at 7:45 exactly a very familiar car pulled into the parking garage. A moment later, it drove out again, and following at a discrete distance, I tailed him all the way back to Carter Tech.
Parking just a few cars away, I watched Misha, clean-shaven and smiling, open the passenger side door. Extending his hand, he offered a dainty young woman help as she climbed out of the car in very high heels.
It was the same girl from the coffee shop.
As my husband leaned down to pick up a lunchbag, my heart stopped. I recognized that bag–it was the same one he used to pack for me when we were dating and I was working late nights during my residency.
He made her lunch in my lunchbag. A lunch he used to make for me.
The girl took it graciously, and standing on tip-toe, placed a small, grateful kiss on his cheek.
My blood ran cold as my heart froze to ice.
Watching them walk side by side towards the elevator, I couldn’t stop my feet from following. Taking the next lift up, I pretended to check my phone as I walked out into the reception area, my eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses.
“Well look at that,” one of the receptionists gossiped under her breath as the two women watched my husband enter the main office, his hand on the small of the blonde woman’s back. “That new secretary, Mavis, sure moves fast, doesn’t she?”
Ah, so that’s Mavis.
“Mr. Carter does seem to dote on her,” the other receptionist replied. “She’s only been here a couple of months, but they’re practically inseparable. I wonder what she did to earn that extra attention.”
The two women giggle under their breath.
I don’t need to hear any more to know what they were implying–even the receptionists think he’s sleeping with her.
My stomach feeling sour, I turned away and headed back to my car.
Three years. I have given this man three years of my life.
Now, I need to fight back. I won’t let the sacrifices I made for this family go to waste.
As I thought about it, a plan began to form in my mind.
[Ariana]Misha’s last words to me hung heavily in my mind as I walked away from Misha to block myself off in what had once been our shared bedroom. “Fine,” I said as I passed, throwing down my bag as I opened the door. “I’ll stay. But I don’t want to see you right now.” Striding forward with my last shred of dignity, I took the last steps forward, slammed the door behind me, and locked it with shaking hands, keeping him on the other side. It’s bad enough that I had to return to this place because my lawyer thought it would be a good idea to collect evidence from the inside, but I refuse to sleep with him, especially after what he just said, his sullied hands reaching out to touch me in his sleep…The thought made my stomach roll with disgust. As bile rushed up my throat in a sudden wave of what I now recognize to be morning sickness, I dry-heaved over the toilet bowl, holding on to the edges as I gasped for breath and considered my situation.There is no way I’m sharing a baby with
[Misha]“How could you leave me? We’ve built a life together?”She doesn’t respond. Reaching for the door, she is only a few steps away from disappearing on me again.Panic tightens in my chest.Ariana is my wife—the only woman I’ve ever loved. She just needs to stop long enough to listen to me. Long enough to remember us.“You can’t leave me,” I say sharply. “You need me.”The words come too fast, too desperate.“Or did you forget—you still have a sick mother?”“What did you just say?” Ariana gasped, and I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth as her eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face. Silence stretches between us. After several stunned seconds, Ariana lowers her gaze. She looks defeated, broken. I did that. I broke my promise. When we got married, I swore that I’d take care of her and her family—including her mother, Lucinda, who lies trapped in a vegetative state at the Manhattan Rest Home. I promised there would be no conditions.“She’s my family too,” I h
Taking the train to the other side of Manhattan, I was soon standing outside the main entrance of Columbia University. My old professor and mentor, Dr. Ryland Winchester, was waiting for me with a large smile on his face.“Ariana, I’m so glad you could make it,” he waved as he rushed towards me, his sandy hair glowing golden in the sunlight. “Come, let me show you around.” Hesitantly, I took my first step across the threshold of the school in three years. When I dropped out of school to be with Misha, I had given this life up for good. I knew that even if I could finish my degree to become a doctor, I’d never have a chance to work as a top researcher after ditching school the way I did. And yet, here I was, walking with my old mentor as if I had never left. Releasing a breath I hadn’t even noticed holding, my footsteps fell in line with the professor’s, and walking side by side, the two of us fell into a comfortable camaraderie, reminiscing about old times and talking about new op
It was late before Allison finally let me sleep, and as soon as my head touched the pillow of her comfortable guest room bed, I crashed hard, exhausted from two days of unrelenting stress and misery. The next day, I was so out of it that It was 9am before my phone woke me up, buzzing as it received a dozen new messages, all from things I forgot to take care of before making my flash decision to leave Misha and head west. All I had been thinking about was putting as much decision between me and that bastard as I could. I had forgotten about all the little things, like paying bills and cancelling appointments. I scrolled through the messages listlessly until I came to one from an unfamiliar online account asking me to friend them. Thinking it might be someone I met at the convention in SF, I clicked “accept request.” Only to regret my decision immediately. As soon as the request was accepted, I received a vague message. “You should check this out.” It read, with a link to an earlier
I recognized the ring, because I had been the one to place it on my husband’s hand. The phone beeped again as a new message appeared. “He was worried I would leave. He didn’t want me to be upset,” the message read. “Don’t be mad at him.” I don’t know how she got this number, but there is no mistaking who these messages are from. Turning my phone all the way off. I lie flat on my back and look up at the ceiling. I’m not angry or sad anymore, just numb. I don’t have enough left in my heart to feel anything else. A few minutes later, there is a knock on the door. “Ari, are you awake?” Not waiting for a response, Misha pushed his way inside the room and flipped on the light. “Hey, Ariana, about tonight, let me explain.” “What is there to explain?” I say in a cold, flat tone as I cover my eyes with my hand. “You made your choices, and I’ve made mine.” “About Mavis,” Misha continued, “I didn’t invite her, she wasn’t supposed to be here tonight.”Misha’s face was beet red as he stu
Except, that we never got the chance to have that conversation.As soon as the plane landed and Misha turned on his phone, there was a message waiting from his mother. “Sorry, Ari, but my mom wants us to come over for family dinner tonight. Do you mind? We can just throw the luggage in the back of the car and….” “Fine,” I groaned, not wanting to argue. I looked and felt like hell, but what did it matter, she wasn’t going to approve of anything I did anyway. “Thanks Angel,” Misha exhaled in relief, his shoulders relaxing.“We’ll just have to talk later.” “Of course,” my lips curled upward, somewhere between a grimace and a smile. As we rode through the slow traffic, I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t rest. My mind was busy, trying to figure out what I should do. Misha is in denial, clueless, unable to see that his actions have already destroyed our marriage. Considering his strangely overprotective and possessive behavior yesterday at the convention, I’m sure that if I tell Misha abo







