It's been a week since that revelation from Lindsey.
A week since I started smiling like I wasn't quietly plotting a full-scale emotional assassination.
Ethan's still playing his part, sweetening his voice, coming home earlier, asking if I want anything when he orders food like we're newlyweds instead of roommates with a marriage license.
It's laughable, really. He thinks I don't know. He thinks I'm still in the dark.
But I'm not. I've been wide awake. Wide awake and calculating.
He doesn't notice the way I watch him through my lashes. The way I memorize the inflection in his voice when he lies. The way I file away every tiny detail for later.
He's being… nice now.
Not because he loves me.
But because he's nervous.
Because I've stopped chasing.
And nothing terrifies a man like Ethan more than a woman who's gone still.
He comments on my body more now the curves, the glow in my skin, how my ass looks in tights. It's comical, the way men suddenly notice you when they feel you slipping.
"You have been working out again?" he asked two nights ago, reaching for me like that would buy him access again.
I gave him the same smile I give strangers in elevators. Distant. Hollow.
He still doesn't know I've known everything for weeks.
I've already started slipping matches between the cracks in this life we built.
And today?
Today, he told me he was leaving for the weekend.
Another company retreat.
Just the guys, he says. No big deal.
"We'll be out in the hills, doing team bonding crap. I'll be back Sunday," he adds, peeling off his suit jacket like he didn't just announce he's vanishing for 72 hours without even pretending to ask if I wanted to come.
I don't flinch.
I nod, sipping my tea, legs curled under me on the couch like I've got no plans of my own.
"Want me to pack for you?" I ask, sweetly. Too sweetly.
He looks up, surprised. "Yeah. That'd be great, babe."
Babe.
He hasn't called me that in months.
I rise and float toward the bedroom, already picturing the perfect little bag of lies I'll fold for him. The cologne she probably likes. The underwear he pretends he doesn't care about but always wears when he wants to impress. I even throw in sunscreen, thoughtful, wifely.
It's adorable that he thinks I'm still playing house.
While I pack, my phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Lindsey.
I have been dodging her calls for days, probably assuming I'm mad, which, okay, I was, but not at her. Just at the whole damn mess.
I let it go to voicemail. I'm not ready yet. Not until I've got Ethan out of the house and my face under control.
I don't need her hearing the crack in my voice when I say I'm fine.
I wait until he's gone, bag slung over his shoulder, car keys jingling like a countdown to freedom and then I pour myself a drink.
As I took a sip, I reached for my phone and dialed Lindsey.
"Morning, you glowing goddess," she said as soon as she picked up, her voice warm and full of energy like always.
"Hey you," I said, smiling despite everything.
"You okay?" she asked. She always asked.
I sighed. "Not really, but I'm no longer pretending to be."
There was a beat of silence. "That's a start."
"I need to talk to you about something," I began, but before I could continue, she interrupted.
"Oh! Before I forget, did Ethan tell you already?"
"Tell me what?"
"About the retreat. The company one."
I blinked. "Yeah… he asked me to pack his bags."
Lindsey sounded surprised. "He didn't invite you?"
I stood straighter. "Invite me?"
"My boyfriend said it's a couple-ish thing. Not officially, but they're allowed to bring plus ones. He asked me to come with him. Said most people are bringing someone."
My fingers tightened around my mug.
"No," I said slowly. "No invite. Just packing duty."
Lindsey went quiet. "Tessa…"
"It's fine," I cut in before she could offer pity. I didn't want pity. Not now. Not when the fire inside me was finally starting to burn with purpose.
"I'm coming," I said suddenly.
Lindsey laughed, unsure. "To where?"
"To the retreat."
"What?"
"Oh my God, Tessa," Lindsey said, her voice equal parts giddy and horrified. "Are you about to catch your man cheating in real time?"
I exhaled. "That's the plan."
There was a beat of silence, and then she said, "Girl, we need to shop."
We met up two hours later at our favorite boutique downtown. The kind with velvet changing room curtains, soft jazz in the background, and a salesgirl who always winked at us like she knew all our secrets.
"I want him to choke on his guilt," I told Lindsey as I pulled a crimson bikini off the rack.
"And I want him to piss himself when he sees you," she replied, holding up a sheer, silky black dress with a slit that nearly touched the heavens.
We laughed, not because it was funny, but because laughter made it all feel a little less heavy.
I tried on three dresses, each one sexier than the last and we settled on a black one that hugged my curves like it had been sewn onto my body. Lindsey whistled when I stepped out of the dressing room.
"If he is cheating, he's going to wish he wasn't," she said.
"He'll probably pretend to have amnesia," I muttered.
We picked out matching pajamas, bikinis, heels, and all the little accessories we needed to look like the kind of women you don't forget not even in nightmares. I grabbed a new lip gloss, a bold perfume I hadn't dared wear in months, and even a pair of sunglasses that screamed you messed with the wrong woman.
"God, I love this version of you," Lindsey said as we stood in line at the register.
"So do I."
I didn't rage
I just planned.
This wasn't about revenge. Not yet. It was about truth. About confirming what I already knew deep down but needed to see with my own eyes. Because sometimes, women need proof not for the world but for themselves. So they don't spend the next decade wondering if they imagined the bruises left by emotional betrayal.
"Let the show begin," I whispered.
Lindsey picked me up the next morning. Her boyfriend, Marcus, was already at the retreat and had reserved their room. We'd have to sneak in and play it off like I was just joining the fun late.
We drove with music blasting, windows down, hearts thundering. Lindsey kept glancing at me, smiling.
"You ready?"
"No," I said honestly. "But I'm coming anyway."
It was a long drive up into the hills, where the retreat center was tucked behind pine trees and modern architecture. As we approached the gates, I felt it: the nervous energy. The doubt. The what-ifs.
What if he wasn't cheating?
What if I was the crazy one?
But then I remembered his cold eyes. The changed password. The missing affection. The gut feeling that had been screaming for weeks.
No. I wasn't crazy.
I was awake.
We arrived just before sunset. The grounds were beautiful cabins lined up like luxury lodges, fire pits crackling, couples laughing near the pool.
My heart stopped.
But my legs kept moving.
Lindsey grabbed my hand.
"You got this," she said.
And I did.