My fingers went numb.
The woman murmured something.
Julian laughed.
“Of course I hate her. I barely touch her anymore. Just wait. I’ll divorce her, and then I’ll marry you.”
A kiss sounded through the speaker.
I couldn’t move.
With my free hand, I quietly ended the call.
That evening, Julian arrived with grocery-store flowers and kissed my forehead.
“Missed my girls,” he said, smiling as if he hadn’t torn my life apart hours earlier.
I smiled back.
“We missed you, too.”
For six days, I said nothing. I watched Julian take his phone into the shower, change his passcode, and spray cologne before every “late shift.”
Meanwhile, I prepared our anniversary gift.
I had planned to celebrate our anniversary with just the three of us, but at the last minute, I changed my plans.
