1#01

1

As the holiday season neared, my usual beauty salon was fully booked. The staff inquired if I'd be willing to share a room, and I agreed, thinking it wouldn't be an issue.

My roommate turned out to be a young woman who seemed vaguely familiar.

At checkout, the woman's card was declined. "Honey, my beauty card is empty," she cooed into her phone.

"Sweetheart, hold on. I'll send you some money now. Is 20,000 enough?" A doting male voice responded, sounding eerily like my spouse, Dexter Keaton.

I laughed internally, believing I was being paranoid, when my phone alerted me: [20,000 withdrawn from my account.] Suddenly, I felt as if I'd plunged into a frozen lake, chilled to the bone.

——

Festive decorations adorned the streets, but I felt numb, unable to embrace the holiday spirit. After leaving the salon, I remained in my car for ages.

Dexter and I had been together since our youth, from school uniforms to wedding attire. I struggled to believe that someone who treated me so lovingly could be unfaithful.

Yet, I had to face the fact that a decade of love had succumbed to external temptations. I closed my eyes, allowing silent tears to stream down my face.

I wept until I had no tears left. After wiping my face clean, I phoned my attorney, "Mr. Vaughn, please prepare divorce papers for me …"

Post-call, I fixed my makeup to hide any evidence of crying, then drove home. Dexter's car was already in its spot, indicating he was home.

Using a spare key, I searched his vehicle for any clues. However, Dexter was thorough. The dashcam footage was erased, and the car was immaculate.

Discouraged, I was about to leave when I spotted a small, clear piece of plastic under the passenger seat. My heart sank.

If I wasn't mistaken, it appeared to be the wrapper from a condom package.

Upon returning to our apartment, I acted normally and entered.

Dexter was preparing dinner. Hearing me come in, he called out, "Welcome back! Dinner's almost ready, go wash up."

As he spoke, he continued cooking, skillfully plating the food. When he emerged from the kitchen with a dish and noticed my bare feet, his expression changed.

Setting the plate down, Dexter approached me with a frown, "How many times have I told you? You get cold easily, don't walk barefoot."

Despite his scolding tone, he gently helped me into slippers. I stood rigid, fighting back tears. Who would have thought such a caring, attentive husband would be unfaithful?

Noticing my red eyes, Dexter asked, "Is something wrong?"

I blinked hard, suppressing my tears, and smiled, "It's nothing."

Dexter assumed I was moved and smiled, affectionately tousling my hair, "You're such a softie."

I laughed bitterly inside. Indeed, I was a complete fool.

I carefully observed Dexter's demeanor. His eyes seemed genuine; I couldn't detect any hint of deception. Throughout the meal, he continued his habit of filling my plate.