After Otis Henson came home from his friend's wedding, I asked for a divorce.

He frowned, confused.

"Just because the bride was Vivian Whitmore?"

Vivian Whitmore had been Otis's secretary three years ago. There'd been something between them, an unmistakable flirtation that nearly crossed the line before I caught them and put a stop to it.

Otis raked his fingers through his hair like a man driven to the brink, his voice rising in accusation.

"She just married my best friend. What, you think I'm going to rekindle things with her?"

"If it really bothers you that much, I won't go to any event she's at. Is that enough?"

I let a thin, mocking smile pull at the corner of my mouth and slid the divorce papers across the table toward him.

"That won't be necessary. Just sign."

I was done with this marriage built on lies.

...

Otis studied my stubborn expression, then pulled out his phone and held it in front of me.

"Go ahead. Check it."

"Every password is your birthday."

He thought I was spiraling again, that I needed to inspect his phone to feel secure.

It was the unspoken agreement we'd settled into after the incident. His phone was an open book. His schedule arrived in my inbox like clockwork. Every business dinner, every social event, he brought me along.

All to give me peace of mind. All to prove his loyalty to this marriage.

But this time, I just looked at the phone. I didn't take it.

Because I knew that even if I tore that phone apart, I wouldn't find a thing.

Not because he was innocent. Because he had a second phone.

Hidden in the false bottom of the drawer where I kept my lingerie.

Otis was confident I'd come up empty. He tossed the phone onto the bed and strolled into the bathroom without a care in the world.

The sound of running water soon drifted through the door.

I turned and walked into the closet. I reached into the hidden compartment of the drawer and pulled out the second phone.

It was locked. The passcode was Vivian Whitmore's birthday.

The lock screen and wallpaper were both photos of Vivian.

The photo album was filled with intimate snapshots of the two of them together, moment after moment of stolen affection.

Ten minutes ago, Vivian had sent him a message.

"The wedding isn't even over yet and you already ran home. Let me guess, your nagging wife threw another fit?"

"We had a deal. Marrying Melvin Gilbert was only supposed to throw her off the scent. You're the one who's supposed to be sharing the bridal suite with me tonight."

Even though I already knew the truth, the words still drove through my chest like a blade.

Otis had no idea that I'd found this phone a week ago.

That I already knew today's wedding was nothing but a performance staged for my benefit.

I scrolled further up. The messages grew worse. Explicit. Shameless. The kind of things that made my stomach turn.

The very first message had been sent three years ago today.

The same day I'd discovered Otis's wandering affections and demanded a divorce. The same day he'd slit his wrists to keep me from leaving.

He'd gripped my hand, his eyes bloodshot and wild.

"Elaine, I know I was wrong. Can we start over? Please?"

But two hours after they saved his life, he was already flirting with Vivian.

A sharp, twisting pain tore through my lower abdomen. It didn't compare to even a fraction of the agony in my heart.

I saved every last one of those messages.

That was when Otis came out of the bathroom. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his voice soft and coaxing.

"See? I told you there was nothing. You still don't trust your husband?"

I pushed him off and tapped the divorce papers.

"Now that you're all cleaned up, sign these. I don't like dragging things out."

The light in Otis's eyes went dead.

"Elaine Delgado, I handed you my phone. How long are you going to keep this up?"

"Vivian and I are ancient history. Why do you insist on dredging it back up? How do you think Melvin would feel if he heard you talking like this?"

Melvin Gilbert was his best friend.

Every time he saw me, he'd flash that easy grin and call me "sis." When I'd first caught on that something was off between Otis and Vivian, Melvin had stood firmly on my side. He'd torn into Otis, called him out, and all but forced him to apologize to me.

Like a self-appointed guardian of my marriage with Otis.

And this was the same man who'd been covering for him behind the scenes all along, helping him cheat again and again without getting caught.

A sharp cramp twisted through my abdomen, so fierce it stole the words right out of my mouth.

That was when Otis's phone rang.

It was Melvin's custom ringtone. Every time he called, it was either a company emergency or some business dinner. Otis would drop whatever he was doing and leave me behind.

This time was no different.

Melvin's voice came through, drunk and accusatory:

"You son of a gun, Otis! It's my wedding day. Bad enough you didn't bring your wife, but you left early too? Are you even my brother?"

"You've got ten minutes. If I don't see your face, we're done."

Otis gave an awkward agreement.

Then he turned to me, his expression grave.

"Relationships can't survive constant testing. Stop threatening me with divorce. I get tired too."

"Stay home tonight and think about what you've done. Don't wait up."

He was out the door before I could respond.

After it slammed shut, I dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

"Mom, I lost. Otis really isn't the right man for me. I'm willing to come home and take over the business. Come get me in seven days."

Not long after Otis left, Vivian sent me a friend request.

"Elaine, you lost in the end. Now that I'm Melvin's wife, let's see you try to keep me away from Otis."

"Can't swallow that bitter pill, can you, old hag? Then come catch us in the act."

She sent me the address of the wedding suite.

A blatant provocation.

My fingers tightened around the phone. I got up, drove to the address, and parked nearby.

The entire building blazed with light. Crimson drapes hung from every surface, and an enormous decorative monogram at the entrance gleamed under the spotlights.

Otis had already changed into a groomsman's suit and stood at the center of a crowd of buddies, the scene loud and lively.

Melvin raised his glass and clinked it against Otis's, teasing him:

"I sacrificed my own marriage for the sake of your love with Vivian. You'd better make it up to me!"

Otis's lips curved. "Relax. You'll be well rewarded."

Someone in the group spoke up:

"Otis, if you love Vivian that much, why not just come clean to your wife, divorce her, and marry Vivian?"

Before Otis could answer, Melvin beat him to it:

"A man of Otis's caliber, circling around one woman his whole life? Where's the fun in that? Why else did he bust his ass making money? Keep the wife at home, enjoy the women outside. Best of both worlds."

Otis drained his glass in one swallow, saying nothing to contradict him.

I sat in the car, nails digging so deep into my palms they nearly broke skin.

So that was why he'd worked so hard to make money. To chase more women.

Back then, I'd cut ties with my own mother to marry him. I'd squeezed into that cramped, run-down rental with him and shared a single cup of instant noodles for dinner.

He was under so much pressure at work that he'd grown gaunt. So I'd hide the only hot dog at the bottom of the noodle cup, then pretend I was full halfway through and push the rest toward him.

When he fished out that hot dog, his eyes went red.

He pulled me into his arms, voice thick with guilt:

"I'm sorry, Elaine. You've suffered so much being with me. I swear I'll make something of myself, and when I do, I'll make up for every hardship you've endured."

After that, he threw himself into work even harder.

Maybe back then, when he said he wanted to give me the best life possible, he'd meant it from the bottom of his heart.

But now, giving his heart to other women was just as real.

Melvin and the others shoved Otis into the wedding suite with a chorus of laughter, then had the good sense to leave.

I stared at the window, eyes locked on the two silhouettes shifting behind the curtain.

Otis had his arm around Vivian's waist. He tilted her chin up and kissed her.

Vivian yanked the curtain open, her eyes locking onto mine with a look of pure provocation.

She'd spotted me.

And I watched them, like a masochist, tangled together right before my eyes. I watched until they were done.

My phone buzzed shortly after. A message from Otis, his tone almost weary with concern.

"Elaine, fighting is one thing, but you just had a miscarriage and your body hasn't recovered. Take your medicine. I already had someone deliver it. Drink all of it."

"Be good. Don't take risks with your health."

He'd noticed how pale I'd gone tonight from the post-miscarriage pain. Before he left, he'd even brewed the medicine himself.

I almost laughed.

Lying in another woman's arms and still finding time to worry about me. How thoughtful of him.

Otis pulled Vivian back down onto the bed, clearly not finished with her.

I twisted the diamond ring on my finger, my gaze hollow.

When Otis and I first got engaged, he'd been broke. He'd drained every cent he had and could only afford a ring with a cheap, flawed stone.

But I'd treasured it like it was priceless. Even after he made his fortune and bought me countless expensive rings, I only ever wore that one.

Once, I lost it. I cried for a full day and night, couldn't eat, couldn't sleep.

Then one day, while I was cooking dinner for him, I found an identical ring inside the belly of a fish.

I thought it was a miracle. That fate itself had returned my ring.

I found out later that Otis hadn't wanted me to be upset. He'd had someone craft an exact replica and slipped it into the fish himself.

In that moment, the ring became his get-out-of-jail-free card. His golden shield against anything.

But a ring that had been replaced, no matter how identical it looked on the outside, was never the same one.

Just like Otis.

The man who had only had eyes for me, who had loved no one but me, had ceased to exist a long time ago.

I'd been fooling myself. All I'd earned was more heartbreak.

So I pulled the ring off my finger and tossed it into the filthy gutter beside me.

Along with the wreckage of this marriage.

Over the next few days, Otis didn't come home.

Vivian, however, made sure to send me regular updates on their happy little life together.

"I heard you always wanted to go horseback riding. Otis took me."

"He also took me to the stretch of coast where you two had your first date. I chopped down that coconut palm you planted together as a love token. He just laughed and called me a brat."

"I mentioned once that I wanted to try his cooking, and he learned how to cook for me. You were with him for so long—I bet he never did that for you, did he?"

Light, breezy little messages. Each one landed like a sledgehammer on my already shattered heart.

On the sixth day, Otis finally came home.

He reeked of alcohol. He'd been drinking heavily.

The moment he saw me, he snapped.

"Elaine, I've been gone for days. Why didn't you come looking for me?"

"You used to come find me if I disappeared for even a minute. Why didn't you look for me this time..."

But as he kept talking, his voice cracked with something that sounded like hurt. He was like an abandoned kitten that had finally found its way back home.

Just hours ago, he'd been in bed with Vivian.

I pushed his hand away, my expression betraying nothing.

"You're drunk. I'll have someone make you something to sober up."

I stood to leave.

A crash. Otis knocked the glass fruit bowl off the table. It shattered across the floor, shards scattering everywhere.

He held up his hand, sliced open by the glass, and said quietly, "Honey, I'm hurt."

I ignored the wounded look in his eyes.

"Wait here. I'll send someone to bandage that."

His face darkened instantly.

"I don't want someone else. I want you to do it."

"You never used to be like this. When I got hurt, you'd ask me if it stung. You're so cold now. You're not my Elaine."