Chapter Three The Truth

Sarah’s POV

My hand trembled slightly as I tapped the three-dash button at the front of her name. I didn’t just want to see her number—I wanted to know the full details of the calls between them. I needed to know exactly what had been going on behind my back.

The pain that surged through me when I realized Abraham had lied—it was unbearable. He told me he had been talking to someone at work. I had believed him. I trusted him. But now, the truth stared me in the face, and it was a thousand times more hurtful than anything I ever imagined.

It’s not wrong for a married man to talk to another woman. They could be on the phone for one hour or more, and it still wouldn’t be wrong. But it becomes something else entirely when he hides it. When he lies about it. That’s when it becomes a problem. A red flag. And any woman who sees such a flag better pay attention before it becomes too late.

My fingers hesitated slightly, but I pressed the three-dash button again and opened the call log. The truth hit me like a slap. They had spoken five times today alone.

The first was from 6 a.m. to 7 a.m. This was the exact time he told me he was on the phone with his secretary. He claimed they had an early meeting at 9 a.m. and needed to sort out documents beforehand.

At 9 a.m., I went to the hospital. At noon, he came to pick me up. According to the record, there were no calls between them during that time.

But from 12:30 p.m. to 1 p.m., they spoke again. That was while I was in the kitchen, preparing lunch. I had overheard bits and pieces of the conversation then, and he had once again told me it was work-related. Then he walked into the bedroom with his phone and shut the door.

At 1 p.m., we ate lunch together. Then around 1:15 p.m., we both went upstairs. I went in to take a bath. He picked up his phone again.

From 1:20 p.m. to 9 p.m., they were on the phone.

My heart began to race, my hands shaky as if I had touched ice. But it wasn’t only today. That much was now clear to me. I scrolled deeper through the call history with this contact—this Racheal. And what I saw drained all the warmth from my body.

There were records from yesterday. The day before that. Last week. The week before that. Two weeks ago. Three weeks ago. One month. Two months. Three months. A year ago. They had been speaking all along.

My hands trembled so badly I could barely hold the phone. It almost slipped from my grip. My chest tightened. It felt like my breath was being stolen from me. I wanted to scream—to shout until my voice broke.

I knew what I was looking at. I had seen cheating before. And this, without any doubt, was exactly that.

Abraham—my husband, the man who had always been the sweetest, the most gentle—had been cheating on me. And not just recently. This had been going on for a long time.

I wanted to understand what made him do it. I wanted to see who she was. What did this Racheal have that made him keep coming back? Why now? Why had he hidden this for so long, even when I believed everything was fine?

Was it because of my condition? He always told me that I shouldn’t worry about my health. He said my heart still beat for him and that he loved me just the way I was. So what changed?

Why was he doing this?

Was she more beautiful than me? Was I ever beautiful to him at all?

Without thinking, I opened his Whats*pp. Since his phone unlocked with my face ID, I had full access to everything.

As expected, I got in. No barriers. No security lock.

The moment the app opened, I saw something that made my chest tighten again. My heart started pounding so fast I thought I would faint.

He had pinned her chat.

Her name—Racheal—sat boldly at the top of his Whats*pp screen. It was the only pinned chat. Mine wasn’t even pinned. The woman he was cheating on me with had her conversation sitting at the top, proudly displayed as if she was his queen.

I tapped it.

The chat opened. My eyes darted quickly to the most recent messages. What I saw next made sweat pour from my skin like I was trapped inside an oven.

She had sent him nude pictures.

There she was, on a kitchen counter, completely naked. She opened her legs wide to the camera. One finger in her mouth, the other deep in her vagina. Bold. Shameless.

Another picture showed her bare buttocks turned to the camera. And beneath it, Abraham had commented.

“Love this babe. My wife is not as sexy as this.”

I gasped. My mouth fell open. My heart pounded harder and harder until I thought it would stop. My eyes burned with tears and rage. I couldn’t go on. I couldn’t look at the screen anymore.

I tapped her profile picture. I had to see who this woman really was.

And there she was.

Her face.

Familiar.

Painfully familiar.

I knew that face.

It was Abraham’s ex.

The same woman he had sworn to me—just one night before our wedding, ten years ago—that he would never speak to again. He had promised me that he blocked her from all his socials, that there was no way they would ever be in communication again.

And I had believed him. Why wouldn’t I? He was going to be my husband. And I told myself that if I brought distrust into our marriage, it would crash before it even started.

Now it all made sense.

I remembered clearly. Her name was Racheal. Why didn’t I figure it out earlier? Why didn’t I connect the name the moment I saw it?

Suddenly, my whole body started to sweat. Not just my face—everywhere. From the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair. I felt like my skin was burning.

And just like that, my episode began again.

I couldn’t breathe.

I gasped for air. My lungs felt like they were collapsing inside me. I panicked. I tapped Abraham with what little strength I had.

He shot up from the bed, groggy and confused. He saw his phone fall from my hands, but he didn’t even check it. Maybe he hadn’t seen what I saw yet, but it didn’t matter.

He jumped toward me and caught me just before I collapsed.

“Cynthia!” he called, his voice shaking as he shouted for our daughter.

“Bring the car key!” he cried again as she responded quickly from her room.

Before I could say anything, before I could even try to make sense of my emotions, my eyes shut.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

The next time I opened them, I was lying in a hospital bed, dressed in a hospital gown, with machines beeping faintly beside me. Cold, white sheets covered me. The ceiling spun slightly.

I was in the hospital.