Chapter 2

I started living like a detective.

When Simon was in the shower, I went through his briefcase. When he was in meetings, I checked the footage from his dashcam. Late at night, after he had fallen into a deep sleep, I used his fingerprint to unlock his phone.

The passcode was our wedding anniversary. That realization made me sick to my stomach for three whole days. He was using a passcode tied to me while living a life tied to another woman.

L was hidden in a contact group he had named "Work Contacts". Her avatar was a close-up shot of piano keys.

He wiped their chat history every day, but every now and then, a message slipped through the cracks.

On the tenth of last month, he went on a business trip to Aqualuna.

Lillian told him she wanted to dine at a private restaurant by West Lake, and he replied. "Sure, I'll take you."

That same day, the text he sent me read, "I have back-to-back meetings today, so I can only eat takeout."

On March 17, she complained that her practice room was freezing.

Simon: "I bought you a heater. It'll arrive tomorrow."

That same day, I asked if he was coming home for dinner that weekend, and he told me he had to supervise his graduate students in the lab.

On April 2, at 2:00 am, she sent him a selfie. Her eyes were red and puffy.

Simon replied almost instantaneously. "Why are you still up?"

Lillian: "I dreamed of you."

Simon: "I'm not going anywhere, dummy."

I stared at that message until the screen went dark and flickered back to life.

I was waiting for myself to tear up, but my eyes were dry and aching.

…

Saturday arrived, and for once, Simon didn't work overtime. "It's been a while since we watched a movie together," he said, changing his shoes in the entryway. "There's a highly rated film on air recently."

I drank him in. His shirt was the one I had ironed last week. His leather shoes were polished by his own hands yesterday, and his fresh haircut made him look sharp.

He said it had been a while since we watched a movie together. He sounded like he meant it when he said it.

"I can't today," I responded. "I've got plans with Nora to check out building materials."

He paused for a moment before inquiring, "Is it for renovation?"

"Yeah. I want to replace the bookshelf in the study."

"I appreciate you taking care of it." He approached me and, as usual, draped his arm around my shoulders. "There's not much I can help with when it comes to these things."

The heat of his hand seeped through my light knit sweater onto my shoulder. I used to crave this warmth. Now, it just felt heavy.

I did meet Nora, but it wasn't to look at building materials. I'd sought her out to get an asset valuation.

The person who received me was a woman in her mid-40s. She had short hair and a pair of keen eyes behind her glasses. "What would you like me to look into, Mrs. Mercer?"

"The movement of our marital assets." I slid my bank account numbers and copies of the property deeds across the table. "Specifically, large expenditures over the last five years and suspicious transfers."

Nora flipped through the documents and looked up at me. "Are you prepared for what you might find?"

"What do you mean?"

"A lot of women come to me to look into their finances, only to back out halfway." She closed the folder. "It's not because we can't find anything, but because they can't bring themselves to believe what we've found."

I remained silent.

Nora studied me for two seconds before nodding. "Alright, I'll have the first draft ready for you in three days."

…

It was raining by the time I stepped outside.

I hadn't brought an umbrella, so I stood under the awning, zoning out.

My phone buzzed.

It was a message from Simon. "I made barbecue ribs for dinner, and I saved a portion for you. It's on the second shelf of the fridge."

I stared at those words.

It had been three years, and he still remembered that I liked barbecue ribs. He remembered that I didn't eat cilantro and that I was allergic to cat dander. He remembered everything he was supposed to remember.

So, how on earth did we get here?

The rain began to pour in torrents, and I left his message on read.