Eight Lives, One Love My Husband's Betrayal Loop

I was at the gas station, filling up the tank, when a trending local post caught my eye:

"I've got a side piece I want to bring home, but my wife's work schedule is unpredictable. How do I keep her from finding out?"

One reply stood out:

"I've got this down to a science. We have two parking spots. Whenever I bring someone home, I park my car sideways across both spaces. That way, when my wife gets back and can't park, she has to call me. While I go down to move the car, my little friend slips out. Been doing this for six months. Haven't been caught once."

The comments were full of people praising the guy's brilliance, and the original poster had even liked the reply.

I was usually the type to scroll past drama without a word, but this time I couldn't help myself. I typed back:

"You're all scum!"

But when I pulled into my building's garage, I found my parking spot blocked—by my husband's car, parked sideways across both spaces.

——

My husband. The man who drove like a textbook. Who never so much as grazed a line. His car was sitting there, angled across both spots.

I slammed the brakes. That post flashed through my mind like a neon sign.

It's just a coincidence. It has to be.

Jacob Delgado was famous for being the perfect husband. Everyone who knew us said so.

Five years of dating. Two years of marriage. Seven full years, and he had treated me like I was made of glass—precious, irreplaceable.

He'd never once let me set foot in the kitchen or lift a finger around the house.

When he found out I loved driving, he bought me a Porsche for my birthday and even purchased the parking spot right next to his.

Every single time he parked, he'd edge his car toward his own side of the line, just to give me an extra eight inches of room. That was the kind of man he was.

A man who loved me with everything he had—how could he possibly do something to betray me?

But that post. It clung to the inside of my skull like a stain I couldn't scrub away.

I sat there staring at Jacob's car for a long time.

Then I made a decision.

I didn't call him to come move it.

Instead, I pulled into one of the temporary visitor spots nearby, killed the engine, and got out. Then I walked home.

I wanted to see if there really was a cheating husband inside, waiting for his wife to call about the car.

At the front door, I slipped my key out as quietly as I could and turned the lock with barely a sound.

The moment I was inside, I headed straight for the bedroom. The door was half open. Through the gap, I could see the room was empty.

I turned toward the guest room.

Pushed the door open. No one.

The study. The bathroom. The balcony. I even checked the storage closet, one room after another.

Every single room was still and silent. Not a soul.

Where was Jacob?

Just as the question formed in my mind, the kitchen door swung open.

Jacob walked out wearing an apron, carrying a plate of food.

He spotted me and froze, surprise flickering across his face.

"Babe? How come you're home so early today?"

He set the plate down on the dining table and flashed me that earnest, boyish grin of his.

"I was planning to have a few more dishes ready by the time you got off work. You're back too soon—I haven't even finished cooking."

I glanced past him into the kitchen. Chopped vegetables sat in neat rows on the cutting board. On the stove, a pot of lotus seed and pork tripe soup—my favorite—simmered away.

He'd clearly been in there for a while.

The tension drained out of me. I smiled.

"Nothing much going on at the office today, so I left early."

Jacob nodded. "Go put your feet up for a bit. Let me finish the last two dishes, and then we can eat."

He disappeared back into the kitchen.

I watched his broad back as he moved between the counter and the stove. The question still sat on the tip of my tongue, and I couldn't swallow it down.

"Hey—why'd you park sideways across my spot today?"

Jacob glanced back at me, a sheepish look crossing his face.