Chapter 2: The Cold Truth

Shirley’s POV

I couldn't sleep.

The sheets around me felt cold, the room even colder. The soft hum of the night outside was the only sound that filled the silence in the room. But it didn't bring me comfort. It only made the emptiness feel more real, more profound.

Jason's name kept flashing in my mind. Over and over again. The words on the screen felt like they were seared into my brain, burning through my thoughts.

Hey baby, miss you. Can't wait to see you again tonight.

It wasn't Jason. No. It couldn't be him. It wasn't the kind of message Jason would send. He was Steven's colleague, a business partner—professional, always. That message came from someone else. Someone I didn't know. Someone who had entered my life without me even noticing, someone who was slowly, quietly, stealing my husband from me.

I turned on my side, staring into the darkness. The seconds felt like hours as I replayed the events in my head. Two hours ago, Steven had come out of the shower, his body still wet, the steam of the bathroom hanging in the air around him. He'd seen the message on his phone. His eyes flickered, a brief hesitation before he picked it up, and for a moment, I thought maybe he'd do what he always did—just brush it off, as if it was nothing.

But then, he'd dropped the act.

He'd told me there was work, that he needed to go in for a few more hours.

"Don't wait up," he'd said, flashing that perfect smile of his. He slipped into his clothes, adjusted his tie, and left—just like that. Like everything was fine.

I hadn't even questioned him. Not at first. Because if I hadn't seen that message, I would have believed him. The night would have continued like any other. But now? Now, I couldn't lie to myself anymore.

He wasn't working late. He wasn't at the office. He was somewhere else. Somewhere with her.

A cold wave of dread swept over me. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, as if it were trying to break free from my ribcage. I had no proof, no solid evidence. But deep down, I knew.

He's with her.

And I was alone. Alone in this empty, cold bed. Alone in this life I thought I knew. Alone with the mess of emotions threatening to drown me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force the tears away, but they came anyway. Hot, bitter, and full of a pain I couldn't even begin to describe.

Why?

Why wasn't I enough? Was it something I did, something I didn't do? Was it the way I'd let myself slip into this role—just a wife, just a mother? Was it because I wasn't the person I used to be, the woman I was when he first fell in love with me? I had spent so many years building this perfect image of our life, of our love. But maybe that image wasn't real. Maybe it had been a lie all along.

Maybe it was me.

I could feel the panic rising in my chest. My thoughts raced faster than I could keep up with them. Who is she? I didn't know her. Was she someone Steven had met at work? Was she someone from his past? I wanted to scream, to shout out the question that had taken over every part of me: Who is the woman who's stealing my husband away?

I pulled the covers tighter around me, curling into myself. I was freezing. But it wasn't just the cold air. It was the sudden, sharp realization that I had no control over my own life. My marriage. My family.

Do I confront him?

The thought of calling him, demanding the truth, made my stomach churn. But it wasn't just about confronting him. It was about confronting everything I had believed in. Everything I had fought for.

What if I'm wrong?

What if this is all a misunderstanding? What if it's just one of those moments where I'm overreacting, imagining things that aren't there?

But I couldn't ignore the gnawing feeling in my gut, the one that told me this wasn't just a mistake. This wasn't a fluke. Something had changed.

He had changed.

The man I had married, the man I had trusted, had slipped away from me. And now, I was left with the mess of a life I had built around him. A life that no longer felt like mine.

Do I keep pretending?

I could lie to myself. I could smile through the pain, pretend everything was fine, just like I'd always done. It would be easy. It would be safe. I could stay in this comfortable, fragile bubble I had created—where everything was perfect on the outside but hollow on the inside.

Or I could break it.

I could shatter the lie and find out the truth. But what if the truth was more than I could handle?

I wiped my tears away, sitting up in the bed. The quiet of the night felt like a heavy weight on my shoulders, suffocating me. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to fix this. I didn't know if it could be fixed.

But one thing was certain: I couldn't keep living this lie.

And I couldn't keep pretending that everything was still the way it was.