Beyond sadness and pain, what consumed me more was fear—cold, gnawing fear that gripped my heart in an iron vice. The realization that Clark had saved a partially written "tutorial" in his notes app, titled [How to Not Get Caught Cheating and Make Your Girlfriend Love You], made my stomach churn. If the version of Clark I saw in that secret WhatsApp account was his true self, then every tender touch, every affectionate smile and every loving gesture over the years had been nothing more than a meticulously crafted lie.

The thought alone made my body tremble. A wave of cold dread surged through me, leaving me momentarily paralyzed on the floor. It felt as though the very foundation of my life had cracked and I was standing on the edge of a bottomless abyss.

I didn't know how long I sat there, frozen in place. The ticking of the wall clock sounded distant, almost like a cruel reminder of time moving forward while I remained trapped in this moment of horror. Finally, when I felt a sliver of strength returning to my limbs, I braced myself against the floor and shakily stood up. My legs felt weak, as if they might give out again at any moment, but I forced myself to stay upright.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to clear my mind. One step at a time, Maya. I put on my coat, grabbed my purse and headed out the door. My fingers gripped the door handle tightly before I pulled it shut behind me, the sound echoing hollowly in the empty hallway.

***

The night outside was cold, the wind biting against my skin as I stepped out of the apartment building. The city lights blurred past the car window in a kaleidoscope of colors as I rode toward Clark's company. Memories of our time together replayed in my mind like an endless montage, each moment now tainted by doubt. Every smile he'd given me, every whispered promise of forever, seemed to twist into something sinister. Was anything real?

I clenched my hands tightly in my lap, nails digging into my palms. I needed answers. I wouldn't let this fear fester in silence. Pain was inevitable, but dragging it out would only make it worse. Better to face the truth head-on, no matter how much it hurts.

As the car neared the company, I searched online for information about dual-interface features on Android phones. That was when I learned the disturbing truth—dual interfaces could be accessed with different passwords, unlocking entirely separate home screens. So that was how he did it. My chest tightened further. It was all calculated, every last detail.

***

By the time I stepped out of the car, I had steeled myself. The company building loomed above me, cold and imposing in the dim light of the streetlamps. I wrapped my coat tighter around me and walked through the revolving doors, my heels clicking loudly against the marble floor of the lobby.

I didn't visit the company often, so only a few employees recognized me. Those who did greeted me politely, their voices echoing in the vast, empty space. I nodded absently in response, my mind too preoccupied to focus on anything else. I took the elevator to Clark's floor, each ding of the passing levels heightening my tension.

The floor was mostly deserted at this hour, with only a few dim lights still on. Clark's office door stood slightly ajar, a thin line of warm yellow light spilling into the hallway. I stopped just short of the door, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears that it drowned out all other sounds.

Through the crack, I caught sight of a girl sprawled lazily on the sofa, her long legs bare and crossed casually. She looked relaxed, too relaxed, as if she belonged there. Clark stood in front of her, holding a wine glass, his eyes fixed on her intently. The sight made my breath hitch, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest.

So, this was "something urgent" he mentioned earlier?

For a moment, I couldn't move. The image before me felt surreal, like something out of a nightmare. My legs felt rooted to the ground, but I forced myself to take deep, steadying breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Slowly, the crushing weight in my chest eased just enough for me to regain control.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, my voice echoing in the silence. "Clark!"

Clark's head snapped up and for a brief moment, panic flickered in his eyes. The wine glass in his hand trembled slightly, spilling a few drops of pale pink liquid onto the floor.

"Maya, what are you doing here?" he asked, his expression quickly shifting from surprise to forced joy. He placed the glass on a nearby table and walked toward me, his steps brisk but hesitant, as if unsure how I would react.

I didn't answer. Instead, I stood still, my eyes fixed on the girl lounging on the sofa. She shifted uncomfortably under my gaze, pulling down the hem of her dress slightly as if to appear more modest.

Clark noticed my gaze and quickly added, "She's Jimmy's girlfriend. He went to the restroom."

I turned to him, my expression cold. "You said you had something urgent at the office."

Clark wrapped his arm around my shoulders, his voice soft and reassuring. "I did and I just finished. I was planning to head home as soon as Jimmy got back."

Before I could respond, a burst of laughter echoed from outside. Moments later, a group of men and women entered the office, their voices loud and cheerful. They froze when they saw me standing there, the tension in the room palpable.

Clark quickly took charge of the situation, his tone light and easy as he introduced me. "This is Maya, my wife and also the chairwoman of this company."

He then gestured toward the bald man leading the group. "And this is Jimmy."

Jimmy grinned, clearly unfazed by the tension. "How sweet. Your wife came to check on you?"

Clark smiled, ignoring the subtle jab. Taking my hand, he began leading me toward the door. "Alright, guys. My work's done. Remember to turn off the lights when you're finished."

***

The car ride home was silent. Clark occasionally glanced at me, his eyes filled with what appeared to be tenderness. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of gold and silver.

Finally, Clark reached over and took my hand, his grip warm and gentle. "Baby, seeing you today made all my fatigue disappear. I..."

"The company's dress code is quite... unique." I interrupted Clark's words with a smile, my tone light and casual, though my heart still thudded uncomfortably in my chest. I tilted my head slightly, keeping my expression neutral, masking the unease gnawing at me.

Clark hesitated for a split second, the briefest flicker of tension crossing his features before he recovered with his usual gentle smile. His voice was calm, almost too calm. "It's after work, so how the employees dress is their own choice."

I nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, as the earlier scene replayed in my mind like a loop I couldn't shut off. The women's outfits weren't just casual; they were practically designed to showcase every possible curve. Tight dresses, plunging necklines, high heels clicking loudly on the polished floor—everything about the atmosphere reeked of something more than mere professionalism.

I stole a glance at Clark as he drove, his profile illuminated by the dim glow of passing streetlights. He seemed relaxed, his expression calm and composed, as if nothing unusual had happened. What an incredible act. How could he appear so nonchalant after what I had just witnessed?

Clark noticed my silence and smacked his lips, breaking the tension. "Baby," he began, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, "let me tell you a secret."

I arched an eyebrow but didn't respond, waiting for him to continue. He gave a faint, melancholic sigh, his eyes briefly flicking toward me before focusing back on the road. "The reason I was watching that girl earlier in the office wasn't what you're thinking. It's because I felt sorry for her."

I kept my expression unreadable, though inwardly, my mind whirled. Sorry for her? That's a new one.

"Jimmy is a scumbag," Clark continued with a shake of his head, his voice carrying just the right amount of disdain. "He's got both a girlfriend and a boyfriend."

The corners of my mouth twitched, but I remained silent. Clark glanced at me again, as if gauging my reaction. When I didn't speak, he pressed on, his tone earnest now. "I know it's not really my business, but I couldn't help feeling bad for her. If I don't help her, isn't that a little... wrong?"

As he spoke, his expression softened and he gave me a look I had seen countless times before—a mixture of innocence and concern, as if he were the selfless hero caught in a moral dilemma. For a moment, I couldn't see through him. Was this genuine, or just another well-rehearsed line?

I turned to look out the window, hiding the conflicting emotions that churned within me. The passing city lights blurred into a shimmering haze, casting fleeting reflections on the glass.

***

Clark hadn't always been like this—or maybe he had and I simply failed to see it. We had met during a mixer in our junior year of college. At the time, Clark had a reputation—well-known as a playboy, charming and effortlessly charismatic, with girls constantly hovering around him.

His motto had been clear: "No strings attached, no unnecessary headache." In his own words, "I'm openly a scumbag, so everyone knows what they're getting into." He was unapologetically bold about who he was, which somehow only made him more attractive to those around him.

Back then, someone like him shouldn't have even crossed paths with someone like me. I was introverted, preferring quiet solitude over noisy gatherings. But fate—or perhaps coincidence—had other plans. That day, at the mixer, I had accidentally bumped into someone, spilling my drink all over myself. Embarrassed and flustered, I retreated to a corner, trying in vain to clean the mess.

When it was time to leave, I couldn't even hail a cab. The streets were crowded and every passing taxi was occupied. That was when Clark appeared, as if out of nowhere, hands shoved into his pockets, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Hi," he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Need some help?"

I had hesitated, unsure whether to accept his offer. He wasn't exactly the kind of guy I usually associated with. But that night, drenched and stranded, I had little choice. And so, that's how it began.

According to his friends, after meeting me, Clark had cut ties with all the girls around him. He started attending classes with me, bringing me lunch, walking me home—doing everything in his power to prove he was serious. He was gentle and surprisingly polite, a stark contrast to the carefree playboy I had heard about. Under his relentless pursuit, I slowly let my guard down.

When we finally got together, I could still remember the way his eyes sparkled with promise. "Maya, I'll definitely treat you well," he had said, his voice filled with conviction. And for a long time, he did.

***

I grew up in a single-parent household, raised solely by my mother. She had worked tirelessly to provide for me and when she passed away, I found myself alone in the world. I had learned to rely on no one but myself—until Clark came into my life.

He was like warm sunlight piercing through the cold, solitary existence I had grown accustomed to. He made me feel seen, cared for and cherished in a way I hadn't experienced in years. Slowly, my world began to revolve around him.

In our senior year, Clark told me he didn't want to settle for a regular job. "I have bigger dreams," he had said, eyes alight with ambition. He shared his vision of starting a business, detailing his plans with an infectious enthusiasm. By the time he finished, he looked at me with a hopeful, almost pleading expression.

Despite my initial hesitation, I agreed. I believed in him. I believed in us. I gave him the saving my mother had left me, trusting that we could build something great together.

At first, things didn't go as planned. We lost everything—not just the money, but we also ended up in debt, tens of thousands of dollars weighing on our shoulders. Those were hard times. We endured sleepless nights, endless worry and the constant pressure of failure looming over us. But we didn't give up. We gritted our teeth and pushed forward, determined to make it through.

By the third year, things finally turned around. The business began to turn a profit and we slowly paid off our debts. Clark worked tirelessly, pouring his heart and soul into the company, enduring setbacks and pressure without complaint. I saw every ounce of effort he put in, every sacrifice he made to get us where we were today.

I had always believed that Clark was a responsible and reliable man, someone I could entrust my life to without hesitation. Yet, as the cold realization settled in, it felt as though reality had delivered a resounding slap to my face, leaving my skin stinging and my heart hollow.

The man I thought I knew—someone who had been by my side through years of struggle—had another side to him. He wasn't just lying; he was teaching others how to deceive, finding girls on the side and manipulating me without the slightest trace of remorse. His lies came effortlessly, smooth and natural, as if they were part of his very being.

People don't suddenly become rotten. They were rotten to begin with.

When we got home, Clark's usual considerate nature was on full display. He bent down and gently helped me take off my shoes, his fingers brushing against my ankles with what once would have felt like tenderness. But now, it felt hollow—forced, like an actor playing a role he had perfected over time.

"You must be tired. Go sit down," he said, flashing me a gentle smile before heading into the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of running water filled the air, accompanied by the clinking of metal against porcelain as he adjusted the water temperature.

Steam soon wafted out of the bathroom door, carrying the faint scent of lavender bath salts. Clark emerged a moment later, wiping his damp hands on a towel. "I've drawn a bath for you," he said warmly. "It's just the right temperature. Go relax."

I nodded wordlessly and walked into the bathroom. The warmth of the bathwater enveloped me as I lowered myself in, but it failed to ease the tension knotted in my chest. Staring at the ripples in the water, I tried to reconcile the Clark I knew with the man I had seen in those messages. Everything he did now seemed calculated, each kind gesture laced with insincerity.

***

After my bath, Clark pulled me into his arms, wrapping me in his familiar embrace. His hand moved gently up and down my back in a soothing rhythm, as if trying to lull me into peace. I closed my eyes and feigned sleep, but every muscle in my body remained tense, my mind racing with unanswered questions and unresolved emotions.

Half an hour later, Clark called my name softly, his voice a mere whisper in the quiet room. When I didn't respond, he withdrew his hand and shifted slightly beside me. I kept my breathing steady, pretending to remain asleep. Through the faint slits of my barely opened eyes, I saw him reach for his phone.

The screen lit up, revealing the familiar home interface. He tapped a button to turn off the screen, then paused for a brief second before entering a password: 012550. This time, when the phone unlocked, a different interface appeared—sleeker, darker and unnervingly organized.

I quickly closed my eyes fully, not daring to watch any further. A knot formed in my throat as hot tears welled up, sliding silently down my cheeks. My heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand, each beat heavy with betrayal.

From Clark's side, faint chuckles occasionally broke the silence. He was messaging someone and whatever the topic, it was clearly entertaining him. His muffled laughter contrasted sharply with the stillness of the room, only deepening the cold void inside me.

The heart of the man lying next to me was darker than the pitch-black night outside.

When Clark finally drifted off to sleep, his breathing deep and rhythmic, I opened my eyes and lay still for a moment, gathering the courage to move. His phone lay beside him, the screen dark once more. I inhaled sharply, steeling myself and carefully reached out, fingers trembling slightly as I picked it up.

Cradling the phone against my chest, I tiptoed to the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind me. The soft click of the latch echoed in the silent apartment and I leaned against the cool tiled wall, clutching the phone as if it were a ticking bomb.

Taking a deep breath, I entered the password again: 012550. The alternate interface greeted me once more and I began scrolling through his messages. Each conversation was like a stab to my already bleeding heart.

One particular thread caught my attention—a chat with someone labeled "J."

[Clark: Done?]

[J: Nope. Too bad you weren't here. These girls are something else.]

[Clark: Couldn't risk getting caught.]

[J: I'm telling you, just end it with her. You've already gotten everything you wanted.]

[Clark: Yeah, I need to come up with the perfect way to get out.]

[J: Any ideas yet?]

[Clark: Yep, find a guy to sleep with her. With her personality, she won't be able to handle it. She'll leave on her own then.]

[J: Haha, how about I do it?]

[Clark: Whatever. Tomorrow, I'll find an excuse to get her to meet us at the karaoke bar.]

I covered my mouth to stifle a cry, but tears poured down uncontrollably, hot and unrelenting. Five years. Five years of love, five years of trust, five years of my life—reduced to nothing but a twisted game in his eyes. He had shown no mercy, no regret.

For what felt like an eternity, I sat there in silence, tears streaming down my face. Eventually, I wiped them away, though the pain in my chest remained, sharp and unforgiving. If he didn't want to end things peacefully, then I didn't need to hold back either.

***

I didn't wake up until noon the next day. The sun outside was bright, but its warmth failed to penetrate the cold atmosphere that lingered in the room. Clark had already left for work, leaving behind a carefully prepared breakfast on the table, complete with a handwritten note: [Baby, don't forget to eat when you wake up.]

I stared at the neatly arranged food and the note with its familiar handwriting. The sight only fueled my disgust. I picked up the entire tray and dumped everything straight into the trash without a second thought.

Sitting down in front of my computer, I opened the company's financial records. Despite Clark always claiming that I was the chairwoman, the one with power, I knew the truth. Almost all the company's assets were under his name. Worse still, we no longer had clear transfer records for the initial funds I had invested.

I thought back to my mother's inheritance. Before she passed away, she had left me a significant sum of money but only allowed me to access a tenth of it, ensuring I had enough to live well until I turned thirty. That remaining portion was the only lifeline I had left now.