On the way to pick up a client, I opened the navigation app.

Soon, the navigation system emitted a bubbly male voice, “Your thoughtful Billie is here to accompany you on your journey for two, just like eloping!"

I slammed on the brakes and hit the steering wheel, still hearing the guy's voice. “There's a small supermarket up ahead that sells cookies Billie loves. Please buy some for me!"

I froze for a moment as I was listening to the navigation voice before calling my wife to ask, “Did you use the Porsche at home?"

On the other end, Carolyn Stafford, my wife, spoke gently, “I used it a few days ago when my car broke down. What's wrong?"

I laughed and said it was nothing, hung up the phone and turned toward Carolyn’s company.

——

I rarely came to her company and understood that trust was the most important thing between a couple.

I didn't want to doubt her, but the voice message kept echoing in my mind. 

As I sat in Carolyn's office, asking HR to bring all the files of the newly hired female employees, Carolyn walked in.

“Hubby, what’s the matter?" Carolyn sat across from me and smiled at me.

I only answered shortly, “Just checking up on you."

“Did you find anything?" She asked before saying casually, tapping the table. “If you didn’t find anything, you’ll have to make it up to me. I want you to go skydiving with me.”

Looking at Carolyn's shy smile, I still couldn't help but feel like I was being too narrow-minded.

All the documents submitted by HR showed no issues and there wasn't even a Billie among the new hires. Maybe I was overthinking it. I put down the documents and met Carolyn's teasing gaze, sighing helplessly.

“I was just following procedure." I pushed the documents toward her. “If you don't like it, I won't do this kind of thing anymore."

She immediately smiled apologetically and coaxed me, “I know you only care about me, so of course, I'm happy to do it. How could I not like it?"

Carolyn had always been gentle, even when she was strict with others, she treated me like a child. Even when I made mistakes, she would apologize first and make me feel loved.

I shouldn't have doubted her.

I followed Carolyn back home, watching her carry the groceries into the kitchen. As I turned to head to the study to handle the documents, I saw her phone vibrate. 

I was about to call out to her when I caught a glimpse of the caller's name out of the corner of my eye. My breath caught and I grabbed the phone to answer it.

The familiar voice came through.

On the other end, a voice almost playfully scolded her, “Carol, Billie’s second-half performance is a huge success! My boss praised me today, so Billie has to thank you properly.”

My heart tightened.

I heard the voice on the other end laughing and saying, “I heard that my boss was conducting an inspection today. So, Carol, give me an update on the current situation over there."

The man with the note “Billie from the distillery" was calling my wife by Carol. 

Even the few old-timers who had been with the company since its inception would address Carolyn as “Mrs. Stafford," and no one dared to speak to her so casually, even if they were close.

But that time, the guy named Billie had not hesitated to call her Carol.

“Carol, why aren't you answering me? Is the signal bad?"

The call suddenly disconnected. I looked at Carolyn, who was still busy in the kitchen, with a pale face. 

Suddenly, I remembered that she seemed to have developed a passion for wine tasting. 

In the company's project coordination, there was an unexpected contact with a winery that shouldn't have been involved.

I had asked Carolyn at the time why she had suddenly changed the strategy. But she only said, “No matter what industry it is, as long as there’s a piece of the pie, I want a slice.”

Then, she looked at me gently, “I want to make my husband the happiest man and give him the best life.”

I was filled with sweetness, as if a strong hand had slapped me across the face, shattering my illusions and all my expectations of marriage.

Carolyn, how far have you gone with him actually?

I sat in the study, his voice echoing in my mind. I recalled accompanying Carolyn to the distillery but never seeing a man surnamed Billie. 

In the end, I messaged my childhood friend and ordered him. [Help me check if Rollins Winery still has Carolyn’s name on it.]

I suppressed the fear in my heart, my hands trembling as I typed. [I need all of Carolyn’s financial transactions and recent itinerary.]

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I stubbornly refused to cry, staying rational. [Carolyn might be having an affair.]

 I just clicked send when Carolyn’s voice came from behind me. “Hubby.”

 Carolyn walked up to me; her face flushed with guilt.

“There's an urgent issue with a project at work," she said, looking at me with a troubled expression. “I promised to stay with you, but I can't resolve it here. I have no choice but to go."

She hugged me apologetically.

“I'll come back as soon as I finish," she said, holding her phone, which was lit up. 

I saw the chat window was still active, but I finally gripped her hand tightly and asked, “Can't you just not go?"

At any other time, Carolyn would have sensed the emotion in my voice, seen the vulnerability in my eyes and noticed it.

But she didn't. She was focused on leaving and on WhatsApp, patiently explaining, “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

Her tone grew anxious, “Hubby, you're usually so understanding. So please, don't make this hard for me."

I felt like a deflated balloon, sitting there motionless as Carolyn hurriedly left without even saying goodbye. 

Tears finally fell from my eyes and I silently wept. I had finally realised that all cats steal fish.

My childhood friend called me and said, “Rollins has a project that Carolyn actively secured funding for and launched. There's something fishy about this."

My childhood friend sent me the documents.

“Everyone at Rollins is saying that Carolyn spent a fortune to promote someone and no one dares to joke about that guy anymore."

My childhood friend’s voice turned cold as he continued, “I heard Rollins is planning a celebratory banquet at the Red Hotel.”

I immediately asked, “Carolyn isn't going, is he?"

But my last shred of hope was completely shattered.

I looked at the dinner that my wife had prepared and laid out on the table: the peeled shrimp, my favourite soup and the roses placed beside them. 

Suddenly, I remembered what she had said, 'Hubby! Did you forget? Today is actually our wedding anniversary!”

On our wedding anniversary, Carolyn chose someone else, leaving me alone. 

I had told her I didn't want her to go and that I wanted to stay with her, but she still left me. 

She still went to see the person she cared about more.

“I'm going to the Red Hotel," I told my childhood friend. “Even if the marriage has come to an end, I want to know what kind of person I lost to."

When I saw the boy sitting next to Carolyn, playfully calling her “Carol,” he seemed so ordinary that I wouldn't have remembered him if I had seen him on the street. 

He had no style, dressed plainly and his haircut was careless, too. 

He was hugging her arm and laughing. “Carol, they’re trying to get me drunk.”

The boy, spoiled by his parents' favor, pointed at the bosses sitting at the table. 

“I told them my Carol is a queen who will protect me, but they didn't believe me. They insisted you come and talk to them yourself."

In the private room, those people laughed and flattered him, “No wonder Billie has such good taste. He either doesn't pick or picks someone as valuable as this."

"Mrs. Stafford spent a fortune on Billie. Everyone in the industry praises Mrs. Stafford for loving her kingdom more than handsome men. Hahaha!”

“Exactly,” said the portly man, picking up his glass. “Billie, why don't you join us in toasting Mrs. Stafford?”

I stopped in my tracks, my hand frozen mid-motion to open the door. 

Carolyn was allergic to alcohol and never drank. Even during social gatherings, I always stood in front of her to take the brunt of the drinking. 

I looked at the wine glass on Carolyn's table and at Billie, who was acting coy, “I'm not drinking. Our Carol wouldn't want that."

“Is that right?"

Billie clung to Carolyn's arm and to my surprise, Carolyn actually picked up the glass, her expression calm as she looked at the man.

“Billie doesn't drink. Since we're toasting, why don't I drink with you, Sir?"

I watched Carolyn down the glass of wine. 

The private room erupted in cheers and Billie, flushed, praised Carolyn as a hero. 

Carolyn smiled affectionately and pinched his cheek, making my body feel as though it had been sliced by a rusty, dull knife, leaving gruesome, terrifying wounds.

I watched myself become riddled with holes, still hoping maybe there was some misunderstanding.

But then, my childhood friend steadied me as I swayed on my feet, ready to charge in and confront Carolyn, “I’m going in to tear that bastard apart.”

I stopped my childhood friend, pulled out my phone and dialed Carolyn's number. 

I clung to a sliver of hope, wanting her to give me an explanation, to tell me if there was something else going on. 

I watched as Carolyn picked up the phone on the table, her expression complex as she looked at Billie.

Seeing that, Billie immediately hung up without hesitation, hugged her arm and reminded her, “You promised to stand up for me, right?"

Billie stared stubbornly at Carolyn, “Right, Carol?”

I stubbornly dialed Carolyn's phone repeatedly, making the screen on the table lit up and then went dark, then lit up again until finally, Carolyn made her decision. 

“Alright, I'll stay with you today."

After that she hung up and flipped her phone face down, completely blocking my calls. 

Billie broke into a wide smile becoming the final straw that broke my heart.

I almost lost my balance, but managed to squeeze out a shred of rationality from my grief to tell my childhood friend. “Surveillance."

“Check the surveillance," I said, my voice trembling as I pointed upward at the surveillance camera, “Save it for me. I need evidence."

As I watched the surveillance footage and Carolyn's face grow pale, I told my childhood friend, “Since Carolyn has made her choice, I won't let her get away with it."

As I got into my childhood friend's car, my childhood friend pulled up all the documents.

“I think you should see this too.”

The document was about Billie's Little Red Book. It was like a vast web, weaving the love between him and Carolyn—a love that never included me.

I watched the video they recorded last month while she was on a business trip, showing Billie sitting in my Porsche.

In the video, he smiled brightly as he said, “What should I do, everyone? My wife's car broke down, so I bought a new one—the latest model. I secretly prepared a surprise for her."

He recorded the navigation voice and then made a shushing gesture toward the camera. 

“Guess what, will she like this surprise? Will she also buy me some cookies then?"

I suppressed my disgust and kept scrolling down, seeing that on the day I had my follow-up appointment at the hospital, Billie was at the same hospital as me, holding a lab report, looking smug.

“The main package is here for another sperm quality check!"

“Everyone, please guess with me. Will it pass this time?" He chuckled, “If it passes, I can become a dad!"

“He really is a bastard!" My childhood friend angrily slammed the steering wheel, but I no longer felt the initial anger and pain of betrayal. 

I calmly told him.