CHAPTER 8

The First Lie Exposed

The night air was crisp, the kind that carried the scent of rain even when the sky was clear. The city pulsed with life around me—car horns blaring, laughter spilling from sidewalk cafés, the rhythmic tap of hurried footsteps against the pavement. But at that moment, all of it faded into background noise.

Because I saw him.

Alex.

He was parked on the side of the road in his sleek black car, the engine humming softly. His posture was tense, his hands gripping the wheel a little too tightly. I recognized that look—the slight furrow in his brow, the press of his lips. It was the expression he wore when he was calculating, weighing his words carefully.

Then I noticed something else.

His mouth moved, but he wasn't speaking to me.

At first, I thought he might be muttering to himself, but then I spotted the faint glow of his Bluetooth earpiece. He was on the phone.

I took a step closer, stopping just before I reached the curb.

"You know I can't talk right now," he said, his voice clipped, urgent. "Not like this."

Not like this.

A chill ran through me.

There was something in the way he said it—the controlled sharpness, the unspoken weight beneath the words. It didn't sound like a work call. It didn't sound casual. It sounded… intimate.

My stomach twisted.

I stood frozen in place, caught in that fragile space between suspicion and denial. The rational part of me wanted to believe there was a simple explanation, that my mind was twisting things into something they weren't.

But deep down, in a place I didn't want to acknowledge, something told me I had just witnessed the first crack in the foundation of our relationship.

I watched as he ended the call, exhaling sharply before running a hand through his hair. For a second, he just sat there, staring straight ahead as if he was trying to collect himself.

Then, without warning, he pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the night.

And I was left standing there, my heart pounding, questions swirling in my mind.

---

By the time Alex walked through the front door later that night, I had played the moment over in my head a hundred times. The apartment was dimly lit, the glow from the city casting long shadows across the walls.

He set his keys on the counter, stretching his neck like he carried the weight of the day on his shoulders. When he spotted me sitting on the couch, his eyes softened.

"You're up late," he said.

His voice was casual, easy. Like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn't just driven away with a secret pressed between his lips.

I studied him for a moment, searching for something—guilt, hesitation, anything that would betray him.

"Who were you talking to earlier?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

For the briefest second, something flickered across his face. A blink, a hesitation—so small most people wouldn't have noticed. But I did.

"No one important," he answered too quickly.

A knot formed in my stomach.

No one is important.

It was the kind of answer designed to shut me down, to dismiss my question before it could turn into something more.

But it had the opposite effect.

"It didn't sound like no one," I said, tilting my head.

His jaw tightened. "Sophia, it was just a work call."

A work call.

I let the words settle between us, tasting the lie in them.

"You don't usually sound like that on work calls," I pointed out.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "What are you getting at?"

I searched his face, trying to find the man I trusted, the one who had always been honest with me. But there was something different in his eyes tonight. A guardedness that hadn't been there before.

"I just want the truth," I said, my voice softer now. "That's all."

His hands clenched at his sides for a brief second before he forced them to relax. "Sophia, you have to trust me. It's not what you think."

And that was the worst part.

Because he didn't even ask me what I thought.

He just assumed.

He just deflected.

And deep down, I knew why.

Because if he told me the truth, it would change everything.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "Okay," I whispered.

I let him believe I was convinced. I let him brush past me, let him kiss my forehead like nothing had happened, and let him disappear into the bedroom without another word.

But inside, something had shifted.

I had always believed that love—real love—was built on trust. And I had trusted Alex without hesitation.

Until now.

Now, a tiny seed of doubt had been planted.

And I had a feeling it was about to grow into something I couldn't ignore.

---

I barely slept that night.

I tossed and turned, my mind replaying every moment, dissecting every word. I tried to tell myself I was overreacting, that maybe it really had been nothing.

But the way he had looked at me—the way he had hesitated—told me otherwise.

By morning, the doubt had settled into my bones, refusing to be ignored.

And that was when I made a decision.

I wasn't going to let this go.

I wasn't going to be the kind of woman who ignored the warning signs, who let lies pile up until they became impossible to unravel.

I needed answers.

And I was going to find them.

No matter what it took.