CHAPTER TEN

I woke up on Friday with my phone already buzzing against the mattress. For a second, still half caught in sleep, I thought it might be Henry, and my chest did that stupid thing before I remembered better. It wasn't Henry. It was a message from the stylist he had mentioned, a woman named Rosa, asking to confirm my measurements for Saturday and letting me know she already booked three gown options.

I typed back a short reply and set the phone down on my chest, staring up at the ceiling above me. Its timorrow where I sit beside Henry on a red carpet in a dress some stranger had chosen for me, smiling for cameras while in my phone is a folder of things that could unmake his entire career, and yet Henry is not beside me.

I got up because staying in bed only gave the thoughts more room to grow. I made coffee and stood at the kitchen counter drinking it slowly, watching the light change outside the window. For a moment I imagined a version of this week where none of it was happening. A version where Henry came home at a normal hour and asked about my day and meant it, where the ticket in his pocket really was for a work trip with nothing to hide, where I had never made an account with his name folded into mine like a threat.

That version didn't exist anymore. I had made sure of that myself. In fact, I destroyed that version with my own hands.

I spent the morning on a booking across town, a birthday lunch for a woman turning sixty who wanted a menu about the meals her late husband used to cook for her. Such a lucky woman. I focused on the food because it never asked of me anything I couldn't give. I chopped and seasoned and plated with a steadiness, given how unsteady everything else in my life had become, and for three hours I was simply Quinn the chef, not Quinn the wife of a celebrity husband.

It was on the drive home that pinkpen0 sent the next file.

I pulled over at a petrol station because I was so curious, and I didn't trust myself to keep driving while processing whatever it was at the same time. The message was a screenshot this time, not a recording. It showed a thread of text messages, Henry's name at the top; the responses beneath it were clipped, so I couldn't see who he was writing to.

Henry: Handle it before Saturday. I don't want any of this leaking.

Henry: Give her money if it is needed to shut her up.

Henry: I'll deal with the fallout after the awards. Just keep it quiet until then. If she doesn’t comply, then kidnap her and keep her from talking. Torture her if needs be; just don’t kill her yet.

I read the messages until the words stopped making sense as words and became only pictures in my head. I tried to picture Henry saying it, but it was quite tough. Then, I pictured him doing what he said in the screenshot, but it was too scary to think about. For a moment, I wanted to believe that it was a fabricated message or a generated image.

My phone buzzed again before I could recover. It was another video file. I played the video file. It contained Henry and a female model. The model sat very comfortably on his lap, and he whispered something in her ear. She touched him beguilingly in the process, and then he said loudly, “You’re the most beautiful woman ever”. The lady then replied, “Oh Henry, my love, I wish you stayed single for me. Such a waste to be married.” Henry chuckled after hearing it, and they both smiled together. 

I didn't know what to think of this one, then my phone buzzed again

@pinkpen0: This one is just a little one I have to make people see him as a cheater and not a devoted husband. I heard his wife will come to the award show with him, so let’s surprise them.

I sat in the car with the engine still running and the petrol station lights buzzing yellow through the windshield, and I typed back.

@henrybhater: How did you get all this??

@pinkpen0: You don't have to know. You just have to decide what you're going to do with it.

@henrybhater: We are in the world of AI and fabricated evidence; what makes you feel like I’ll believe that all these are true?

@pinkpen0: I thought you trusted me already. 

@pinkpen0: I can’t fabricate evidence; that’s a crime. 

@pinkpen0: If you are worried about being put in a tight spot because they might be fake, then don’t be, because it is actually real and I can prove that too.

I looked at the screenshot again, at Henry’s name sitting there so plainly, then I looked at the video to confirm I had just watched it. Yes, I was scared of doing something like this to him, but I was done being the last one in the room to find out. I calmly drove home. I tried avoiding thinking too much about it. When I got home, I sat on the living room’s couch and stared at nothing. My phone buzzed from my bag. It was a text from Henry.

Henry: Rosa says you haven't picked a dress yet. Pick one. I want us to look good together on Saturday. Personally, I think the burgundy will look great on you and will also complement my outfit too. 

I stared at the message disgustingly. As if I wasn’t already having a bad day, he just had to make it worse. He could not care less about how I was doing.

“I hope he has a nice time with the love of his life over there,” I said annoyingly.

I moved to where my laptop was. I opened it and logged in to my account. A comment popped up. 

@bodybuilder: Finally cancelling Henry in 2026. That’s definitely worth the hype.

I was finally ready to publish the post. I wrote a very vile caption to follow it out, then scheduled the post to drop by 10 pm on Saturday. After that, I went to Henry's room and lay on the bed. The bed was soft and smaller than the one in our bedroom. 

Beside the bed, there was a work table and chair. That was where Henry sat to practice his script or work. Next to the table, there was a small audio mixer, along with the entire set. The room looked arranged, but not clean at the same time. The most parts of the room was occupied by his work appliances, so he barely had any other useful thing in his room. 

Rosa sent me a message, “Hi Quinn. Please check this catalogue to see if you like any dress. If you have something else in mind, just let me know.” She sent the message alongside a link to the catalogue. 

I was not in the position to pick anything, so I replied, “Please just pick what fits me best. I trust your judgement.”

Not long after I sent it, she replied, “Okay,” and sent a heart emoji.