Chapter 5

Sarah pov

I pulled into the driveway, the tires of the car crunching against the gravel as I made my way to the parking lot. My hands were clenched tight around the steering wheel, fingers gripping it like I could strangle the truth out of it. I was shaking, not with fear, but with something else – a slow burn that felt too much like satisfaction.

The horn blasted once, loud and sharp, echoing into the night. I didn't care. The security guard would come when he was ready. I pressed my foot down, more forceful now, my eyes burning with the anger and satisfaction that had bubbled up since I'd walked out of Evelyn. Her smugness, her little lies, it was all so... transparent. I had been waiting for the right moment to show her what it felt like to be caught in the act.

When the gate finally creaked open, I slid past it quickly, pulling into the parking spot nearest the door. I sat there for a moment, breathing heavily, my phone buzzing insistently in my lap. The screen flashed with messages, but I didn't bother looking at them. I wasn’t interested in the noise right now. Not when I had something far more interesting to deal with. Evelyn, the perfect wife. Hah.

I sighed, a laugh catching in my throat, and then yanked the keys from the ignition. My hand brushed the leather bag on the passenger seat, the crinkle of the grocery bags inside a sharp reminder of what I had been out doing. But first, I needed to deliver the real news.

I swung the door open and stepped out of the car, my heels clicking against the pavement as I grabbed the bags from the passenger side. The air was cool, but it didn’t matter. I was already heated enough to make up for it.

The sound of the front door opening startled me for a second, but it was just the familiar voice of my mother calling out from inside.

“Sarah, dinner’s almost ready! Come on in!”

I didn’t answer her immediately. Instead, I turned and started walking toward the kitchen, the weight of the bags heavy in my hands, the anticipation of what I was about to do making my heart race a little faster.

“Sarah!” my mom called again, this time a little more impatiently, but I kept walking.

I pushed open the kitchen door, the scent of garlic and onions filling my nose as I set the bags down on the counter. I didn’t even glance at the food. The dinner could wait.

I heard my mother’s footsteps approaching, but I didn’t look up. I was too busy sorting through the groceries, organizing everything just right. The vegetables went in the fridge, the bread on the counter. I was moving, but my mind was a storm, swirling and crashing with thoughts of what had just happened – what I had seen.

“Sarah, come on, don’t make me come get you,” my mother called again, more exasperated now.

When I finally reached the bottom of the stairs, the table was set. My brother, Micheal, was sitting at the head of the table, his eyes glued to his phone. He was texting, no doubt, because his brow was furrowed in concern. Evelyn hadn’t answered her phone all evening. Not surprising.

I slid into my seat with a soft clink of silverware. Everyone else was already at the table. There was a faint tension in the air, the kind you feel when something unspoken lingers between people.

Michael glanced up, looking frazzled, and then immediately returned his attention to his phone. His face was tense, his thumb moving quickly over the screen. I could see the worry etched on his face.

“Evelyn’s still not answering,” he muttered, his voice tight. “She’s been MIA all day. I’ve called her a hundred times.”

I smiled to myself. It was almost too easy.

Mom shot him a look, her brow furrowed. “Maybe she doesn't want to pick up, Micheal. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

I poked at my food for a moment, my fingers wrapped tightly around my fork. The silence was thick. My gaze flickered to Jason, and then to my mother, who was trying to force a smile. I was playing with my food, pretending not to notice the tension.

Finally, Micheal sighed. “She wouldn’t just ignore me like this. Something’s wrong. I—” He stopped short as if realizing he was spiraling.

I watched him, my expression unreadable. He was so blind, but I wasn’t going to keep that from him much longer.

“I saw her,” I said, my voice casual, too casual, like I was talking about the weather. I could feel the heat in my chest as I dropped the bomb, but I kept my face neutral.

Michael's eyes flickered up from his phone. “What?”

“I saw Evelyn,” I said again, letting the words land, just as heavy as I wanted them to be. I couldn’t help the thrill that shot through me, the satisfaction of knowing I was the one who had all the answers.

His face paled. “Where? What do you mean you saw her?”

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "I saw her this afternoon, Micheal. With another man. At the mall, she even has the guts to lie about her identity.” His eyes narrowed, confusion flickering before the realization hit.

“No,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “No, you’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” I said, my voice firm. “You want me to prove it?”

I didn’t need to say more. The silence at the table stretched long and thick as Michael's face contorted into a mask of disbelief, then frustration. His hand tightened around his phone.

“Who was he?” My mom asked, her voice soft, almost cautious.

“Some guy,” I said, shrugging. “Does it matter? She’s out there doing God knows what while you’re sitting here worried about her. You deserve better than that, Micheal”

His lips parted, and for a moment, it seemed like he didn’t know what to say. The weight of the truth was settling on his shoulders like a storm cloud.

Mom spoke up, trying to calm the situation. “This is just gossip, Sarah. You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m telling you, Micheal, I saw it with my own eyes. You’re just too blinded by sudden love to see it,” I said.

His phone buzzed again. This time, he didn’t check it. He just stared at the screen, staring at the reality he wasn’t ready for.

“I need some air,” he muttered, standing up abruptly, knocking his chair back.

But he didn’t leave. Not yet. He stood at the edge of the table, fighting something – grief, rage, disbelief. The hurt was already there, raw and unfiltered, and I could feel it in every breath he took.

The silence was deafening, and I didn’t need to say anything more. The truth was already there, hanging in the air between us.