As dinner time rolled around, we wrapped up our catch-up with Roxanne and headed home. Roxanne gave me a tight hug before we parted ways, whispering, “Call me if anything happens, okay?”

I forced a smile, trying not to let her see how anxI felt. I nodded, hoping to reassure her.

The drive back home was quiet. We both seemed lost in our thoughts. I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at me. Finally, I decided to voice my concerns.

“So... she’s your ex?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I was trying hard to keep my tone calm and collected. Garet glanced over at me and nodded. “Yes.”

His straightforwardness was both comforting and disconcerting. I appreciated his honesty, but knowing Jane was his ex stirred up a mix of emotions in me. It was unsettling, even though nothing had happened between them recently.

“Don’t worry,” Garet said, trying to soothe me. “What’s in the past is in the past. We’re married now, and that’s what matters.”

I looked into his brown eyes, feeling the familiar warmth of his gaze. I held his hand, forcing a smile, and told myself that his love for me was strong and unchanging. Time would tell, but for now, I had to trust in what we had.

Days turned into weeks, and life settled back into its usual routine. We were both buried in work, barely seeing each other except for a few hours each week. The worry about Jane faded into the background. Even if she was Garet’s past, I was his present and future—at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

One day, as I was tidying up the room and gathering dirty laundry, I came across Garet’s t-shirts. We had a helper who took care of most of the housework, but I still liked to do small chores myself. As I picked up his clothes, I noticed something odd. There was a faint, unfamiliar scent on his t-shirt.

It was subtle, but it made me pause. I couldn’t quite place it, and it caused a small, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I thought it was just a weird coincidence and shrugged it off. The scent could easily be from his clients or colleagues; he interacted with so many people every day.

But then, another odd thing happened. I was finishing up a night shift at the hospital when I saw him in the corridor.

“Garet? What are you doing here?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“I’m here to pick you up,” he replied casually.

It was unusual for him to come to the hospital, let alone pick me up. It was a nice surprise, and I felt a wave of happiness. “Great! I’ll just tidy up a bit. Wait here!” I said, heading to my office to grab my things. My shift had ended, so I was ready to go.

When I came back out, though, there was no sign of him. I called his phone, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried calling repeatedly, but there was no answer. I figured maybe he was in the restroom or had to step away briefly, so I waited for about ten minutes. I even asked a colleague to check the restroom, but he wasn’t there.

Puzzled, I went to check the parking lot, thinking maybe he was waiting for me there. I roamed around the vast parking area for almost an hour, but he was nowhere to be found. Growing increasingly anxious, I ended up ordering a taxi to head home, assuming he might have gone back without me.

When I got home, there was no sign of him. My worry turned to panic. Had he disappeared? Or was I just too tired and imagining things? I texted Bernard, Garet’s work partner and best buddy, to see if he knew where Garet was.

Bernard’s reply came back quickly, which read, [No, he left the site a few hours ago.]

I asked if he could try contacting Garet, but Bernard told me he couldn’t reach him either. Apparently, Garet’s phone was dead, which wasn’t typical of him. This only added to my growing anxiety. What was going on?

I was fraught with worry over Garet’s sudden disappearance. Desperate to calm myself, I took a long, soothing shower and tried to wash away the anxiety that had built up. Afterward, I checked my phone again, hoping for a missed call or message, but there was nothing. The clock was inching closer to midnight, and the fear that something might have happened to him was overwhelming.

I decided to call Roxanne, hoping she might still be awake and able to offer some support. When she answered, her voice was groggy and a bit irritated. “Hello? Livy, why are you calling me so late?” she mumbled.

I quickly explained the situation, my voice trembling. There was a long pause on the other end. “Hello? Roxanne, are you still there?” I asked, my heart racing.

“Yeah, I’m here,” she finally responded, sounding more alert. “I’m just thinking. Garet’s been with the police for years, right? He’ll be fine. Don’t panic. I think you should try to get some sleep. We can come up with a plan if he’s still missing in the morning. You need rest, okay?”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Alright, I’ll talk to you in the morning. I’m sorry for calling so late.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just try to stay positive. I’m sure he’s okay,” she said with a reassuring tone. Her confidence helped soothe my nerves a bit.

After thanking her, I ended the call and tried my best to get some sleep. I tossed and turned for hours, unable to shake the anxiety that clung to me. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and I managed to drift off.

My alarm blared at 6 am, jolting me awake. I had only slept for a few hours, and my body felt heavy and broken. I quickly rubbed the sleep from my eyes and grabbed my phone, praying for a message or call that might reassure me.

There it was—the long-awaited message from Garet. He had replied just an hour ago, explaining that his colleague had called him for something urgent the previous night. After the call, his phone died, and he got caught up in some casework back at the office. He must have fallen asleep there and completely forgot about his dead phone.

I was a mix of relieved and annoyed. It was totally unlike Garet to worry me like this. He was usually so reliable and considerate. I called him right away, and he picked up after a few rings.

“Garet, where were you? I was freaking out, trying to reach you and even contacted your friends!” I started, my voice tinged with frustration.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, his baritone voice sounding genuinely tired. “It was an urgent situation. I promise it won’t happen again.”

His fatigue softened my anger a bit. “When are you coming home? I’ll make you some soup,” I offered, trying to shift the focus to something more caring.

“Maybe around noon,” he replied. “Aren’t you working today?”

“No, I’m taking the day off,” I said. “I’m exhausted from all the stress last night.”

There was a brief silence before he responded, “Okay, I’ll see you around then.”

After ending the call, I quickly sent messages to Roxanne and Bernard to let them know Garet was okay and reassure them that everything was fine. With that settled, I fell back onto the bed, pulled the covers over me, and tried to get a bit more sleep.

***

Garet's voice echoed, "Goodbye, Livy. I’m sorry, but we can’t be together," as he let go of my hand. Next to him stood Jane, her smile warm and sweet, her big eyes and rosy cheeks glowing. I felt myself dangling over a cliff, desperately clinging to Garet's hand. But then, he pulled away, letting me plummet into the dark abyss below. I screamed, but my voice was swallowed by the void.

Just as I was about to hit the bottom, the ground began to tremble and buzz uncontrollably. I shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, my heart racing. It took a moment to realize it was just another alarm I had set. What a nightmare! The sensation of falling felt so vivid and terrifying. I chalked it up to being overly tired and stressed from everything going on lately.

I stumbled out of bed, washed my face, and headed to the kitchen. I needed to distract myself. I opened the fridge and checked the ingredients for the soup. Everything was in place. I started washing and chopping vegetables, preparing the seasoning for Garet’s favorite potato and vegetable soup. It was a simple dish, but it had been a comforting staple for us, especially with the special recipe my mom had passed down.

By noon, the soup was simmering on the stove, and I was just about to set the table when my phone buzzed with a new message. I picked it up, and my heart sank as I read the text.

My colleague texted me a photo on WhatsApp and asked, [Livy, is that your husband? I just saw him at Central Mall.]

I opened the photo and saw Garet walking with a woman, her arms full of shopping bags. Instantly, I recognized them as Garet and Jane. My hands were shaking, and my mind was spinning with disbelief. ‘No way, how? Why? Didn’t he say they were just a part of his past?’ I was overwhelmed with questions.

I tried to calm myself and dialed his number. When he picked up, I asked, “Where are you?” I was forcing myself to sound calm while pinching my own hands.

“I’m working on something, but I’ll be home soon,” he said quickly before hanging up. I felt dizzy, so I sat down with the soup I had made for us, but now eating alone felt like a cruel twist. My mind kept going back to the photo—why would he lie to me? Was he cheating on me?

An hour later, I heard the car pull into the garage. Garet came through the door looking fresh, with only a few wrinkles in his shirt. This was in stark contrast to the way he sounded on the phone earlier.

He saw me sitting at the kitchen bar with an empty bowl and asked, “You made soup?” He glanced at the stove, noticing what was left.

I didn’t say a word, just kept staring at him.

He seemed to pick up on my silence because he turned to face me and said, “You’re still upset, aren’t you? I’m sorry, last night was really urgent. Didn’t mean to make anyone worry.”

Even though I was still fuming about last night, the fact that he’d lied today and was hanging out with Jane behind my back was what really crushed me.

“What are you working on?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

“Well, we’ve got some new cases—mostly missing persons,” he replied.

“Do any of those cases require a trip to Central Mall?” I pressed, watching his reaction closely.

He paused, and a strange look crossed his face—one I didn’t recognize. I used to be able to read him like a book, but this expression was new.

“What do you mean?” he asked, clearly caught off guard.

I showed him the photo I’d received earlier. “Looks like you’re having a great time with your old lover. Care to explain? I thought you were buried in work.”

“It’s not what it seems, Livy. I was at the mall for work, and I ran into her. We just ended up walking around together. It’s nothing,” he said.

“Stop lying! I don’t believe you anymore. You’re a liar and a cheat. I don’t even recognize you anymore!” I yelled. All my expectations and dreams of him being a good husband were shattered. I felt sick realizing how many lies had been hidden from me.

This was the first major fight we’d had in years, and he kept insisting that I was overreacting, denying everything. The frustration and betrayal were overwhelming, and I felt completely lost.

“You used to be so logical. What happened to you?” Garet snapped, clearly annoyed.

“And you used to be honest with me!” I shot back, trying to hold back tears before storming upstairs.

I slammed my bedroom door and locked it. I still couldn’t wrap my head around what had happened. Was I really being cheated on? He’d told me just a few weeks ago not to worry.

Little did I know, this argument was just the beginning of a much bigger crack in our marriage, one that was only going to get wider.

After crying for what felt like hours, I eventually fell asleep and woke up in the afternoon. I looked around the house—Garet wasn’t there. Good. I wasn’t ready to see him just yet.

The rest of my day off felt like a waste. I lounged on the sofa, staring at the photo, trying to find some reason or explanation for why Garet and Jane were together. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make sense of it. I wanted to reach out to Roxanne for support, but I was mentally drained and not ready to talk about it.

The next day at the hospital, I saw Jane again. She looked as innocent as ever, and just seeing her made me feel even worse. I called her into my office, and as soon as she walked in, I said, “I know who you are now.”

“Huh, doc?” she asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

“You’re Garet’s ex,” I said, cutting to the chase. “Stop playing dumb. If you think you can take him from me, trust me, it won’t be an easy fight.”

She stared at me for a while before putting on a faint smirk. “Ms. Wilson, we’ll see,” she said, her tone laced with a subtle edge.

I was taken aback. The once-gentle young woman had suddenly turned into someone I barely recognized. Before I could come up with a reply, she excused herself and left with that same sweet, innocent smile she always wore.

Once she was gone, I realized she was playing some kind of mind game with me. I clenched my fists and muttered, “Yeah, we’ll see, little girl.”

From that moment on, Jane’s attitude towards me became noticeably more dismissive. She ignored many of my instructions, causing a slew of problems and increasing my workload.

Then one day, I noticed a new notification on my phone—someone had followed my Instagram account under the username “thedreamgirl.” I didn’t think much of it at first. Although I wasn’t very active on social media, I often got random followers for various reasons.

I was in the middle of work, so I just glanced at my phone and then went back to my paperwork. A few minutes later, my phone was buzzing with a flurry of notifications. I picked it up and saw that the account had spammed likes on almost all of my posts, even the oldest ones.

Curious, I clicked on the username. The profile that loaded was brand new—just following me and with no followers of its own. I raised my eyebrows in confusion. This was odd. Most of the random accounts that followed me were either bots or business profiles. Was this one just another bot?

But when I looked at the photos, I was stunned. There were three pictures, each more unsettling than the last.

The first photo was a high-angle selfie of a woman sitting in a car. I couldn’t see her face, just from her chin down. She was wearing a pink dress, and I could see a muscular arm resting on her stomach. The caption read, [My human seatbelt.]

The second photo was taken on an escalator. The woman and a man were holding hands, and she snapped the photo using the reflection in the mirror above the escalator. The location was tagged as Central Mall of Kingsleigh, but there was no caption.

The most recent photo was of a pair of doe eyes looking directly at the camera while leaning on a guy’s shoulder. The caption was just a red heart emoji.

I felt a shiver. Was this really happening? I tried to convince myself it was just a coincidence, but everything seemed too aligned. I recognized the man in the photos—Garet. Connecting the dots, it became clear that Jane was deliberately trying to mess with me. This was clearly intentional, and it made me feel sick.

My heart was racing, so I called Roxanne. She picked up almost immediately. “Hey, Livy! What’s up?”

“Do you have time to meet?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Hmm, let me think… How about next Saturday? I’m out of town right now.”

“Okay, I’ll take the day off on Saturday. Thanks, Roxanne,” I said, feeling a bit of relief.

“Is this about Garet?” she asked, her voice full of concern.

“Huh?”

“You seem like you want to talk about something important,” she said.

“Yeah, it’s a long story. I’ll fill you in when we meet.”

There was a short pause before she said, “Alright, just don’t overthink things too much, okay?”

Her tone was laced with worry, and I could tell she sensed something was off. That’s what they call the best friend’s radar—when you have a close connection with someone, you often pick up on each other’s feelings, even without words.

After the call ended, I took screenshots of the notifications, the weird account’s profile, and the photos, just in case they got deleted later. I planned to lay everything out for Roxanne in person.

I had always been open with her. From the early days of dating Garet to our marriage, I shared my feelings and problems with her. Even though she could be loud and silly at times, she had always given me solid advice and a listening ear.

I crossed my fingers, hoping she could help me this time. She wasn’t a marriage counselor and was still single herself, but it would be comforting to have someone to talk to about this mess.

With a week to go before my meeting with Roxanne, I tried to distract myself by diving into work. I hoped that keeping busy might help quiet my tangled thoughts.

Garet was becoming more and more distant, to the point where he didn’t even want to visit my mom with me. This led to yet another fight. “You have time for that bitch, but when it comes to my mom, you’re busy, huh?” I snapped. Cheating on me was one thing, but disrespecting my mom was crossing the line. She always doted on him, and I knew she loved him as much as she loved me.

“Stop it, Livy! I’m not making excuses. You can check my schedule with my secretary if you don’t trust me. And watch your mouth; don’t go around calling people bitches,” he shot back.

“I don’t care, she’s a little bitch. Are you defending your girlfriend now, Garet? How low can you get? I really thought you were at least a decent man.”

We fought constantly. Whenever we were together, it was either yelling and shouting or cold, silent treatment. The relentless online harassment didn’t help either. That account, which I was convinced was run by Jane, kept sending me photos of my husband whenever they were together. All I could do was mute it.

I started to think this was Jane’s way of getting back at me. I could make things tough for her at work, but she could even the score by wrecking my marriage and flaunting her affair with my husband. I wanted to confront her publicly, but I knew I had to be smart or I’d end up embarrassing myself. She cleverly hid her face and identity, leaving just enough clues for me to know it was her, but not enough for me to call her out. What a snake!

A few days later, my mom called me again. “Livy, when will you be here? You’re making me sad.”

I realized it had been a month since Mom asked me to visit her. With everything going on with Garet, I wasn’t sure what to say. If Mom found out we were having issues, she’d be so worried.

“Yeah, Mom. Garet’s still busy with some cases. I think I’ll visit you alone at the end of the month,” I replied. Reconnecting with nature and spending time with my mom sounded like the therapy I needed.

“Are you two okay?” she asked.

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be?” I tried to sound cheerful to keep her from worrying. “We bought you a bunch of multivitamins and supplements. You have to take them all and stay healthy,” I added.

“I don’t need those. I eat natural foods here. So unlike you city people. I’ll be fine,” Mom joked.

We chatted for another ten minutes, mostly about the fruits she was growing and harvesting. I felt much better after talking to her and headed to the pantry to make some coffee.

Inside, a few nurses were chatting and laughing.

“Are you sure it’s her?”

“Yes, she’s that pretty intern.”

“You saw her getting out of a BMW in the lobby? Do you think she’s rich?”

“No, it must be her sugar daddy.”

“You sure it was a BMW?”

“Geez, why don’t you believe me? I saw it with my own eyes. It was a red BMW, something we can’t afford.”

“Well, no wonder. She’s pretty; she can get a rich man easily.”

“And she’s still young, too.”

I tried to ignore their gossip as I focused on making my coffee, but it left a bitter taste in my mouth. Garet drove a red BMW, and I couldn’t shake the bad feeling creeping in.

I turned around. “Who are you girls talking about?”

They looked caught off guard and nervous. My reputation as a strict and serious doctor probably made them worry about being scolded for gossiping.

“No, Ms. Wilson, it’s...”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to scold you. I’m just curious,” I reassured them.

“Eh, it’s Jane Dunne. The intern under you... but it’s just our assumption, we didn’t mean to…”

“Miss Dunne? Okay, that’s all I wanted to know,” I said, heading back to my office, leaving them looking puzzled.

I called the nurse's desk and asked for Jane to come to my office. She walked in and asked calmly, “You wanted to see me, Doc?”

I always found it sickening to deal with people like her; they were the hardest to handle.

“Yeah, have a seat,” I said.

We locked eyes for a few seconds in silence. Then, I spoke, “I know what you’re up to. It’s not going to work. Do you forget that I’m your superior here? You think you can do whatever you want without facing consequences?”

I had to make her understand her place and stop acting like a brat. She showed no expression and said, “I don’t understand, Ms. Wilson. What are you talking about?”

“It’s no use playing dumb with me. I’ve spoken to the director. You’re not passing your internship here, and you’re banned from applying again,” I said firmly. This girl wanted to play stupid games, and now she could have her stupid prize.

Her expression quickly changed, and she looked devastated. “No, you can’t do this! You can’t kick me out just because of a personal opinion!”

“Actually, I can. Do you forget who I am? I’m the key doctor here, and the director trusts me. And you’re just an intern, a lousy one who’s always messing around. I have enough proof of your poor work, Jane,” I said, smirking.

She was silent, looking shocked.

“Why? You think I’m weak, and you can pester me all you want? Silly girl.”

“You old witch! You can’t stop me! I’ll take Garry back, take your place, and get rid of you! Just watch, I will… I will…” She suddenly jumped at me and tried to pull my hair with both hands.

She knocked my glass down, and it shattered on the floor. I didn’t expect her to get violent and shouted for help. The loud commotion attracted people outside, and a few rushed in, shocked to see the scene.