Shattered Dreams: When Love Becomes a Nightmare

Late at night, my wife Liana Conway's alternate Twitter account posted a new update.

[We secretly love each other, unnoticed by the world.]

In the photo, two hands were intertwined, fingers tightly laced, exuding an air of intimacy.

It was the first time I had seen someone make cheating sound so shameless.

***

I had been dating Liana for two years and married to her for three, yet we had never been able to have a child.

After half a year of trying, we still hadn't conceived. The whole process, with its timed and mechanical routines during ovulation periods, was physically and mentally exhausting.

Just after we finished another "scheduled task", she turned her back to me, muttered a few words, and fell asleep.

I was not sleepy, so I went to the balcony for a cigarette and started scrolling through my phone.

I discovered her alternate account a few days ago. It had a watermark on one of the photos she had posted on her main account.

I wasn't being paranoid, but over the last six months, I had felt her growing more distant, leaving me increasingly anxious.

Following the watermark, I found her alternate account, which had only been created a few months ago.

Previously, it had been full of complaints about work, but now it had new content: [Hidden secrets.]

Accompanying the post was a close-up photo of two people holding hands.

Liana's hand was easy to recognize, for there was a small red mole on the joint of her index finger. It used to be beautiful for me, but now it was just an eyesore.

I glanced at the post's timestamp. It was five hours ago, which meant she had squeezed in a date between getting off work and coming home.

I inhaled sharply, feeling my heart sink fast.

Thinking back to her frequent overtime and cold responses over the past two months, I found that was the reason.