Maggie's POV

My finger slipped, and I accidentally opened a trending post. It was one of those overly sweet “lovey-dovey couple” threads, with comments full of colorful envy and teasing.

I was just scrolling for fun when a top comment froze me in place.

[@Mr. Mine, Baby, you better not treat me like this in the future.]

[Of course not, Baby. Don’t you know what kind of husband you’ve got?]

I stared at the profile picture in the thread. It matched the one on my chat list, the one with our couple’s avatars.

That’s when I realized the hidden meaning behind his username.

Hers was Mrs. Mine, and his was Mr. Mine. A matching pair.

My gut clenched. Brigham Dixon was cheating.

——

My fingers trembled as I kept clicking his profile picture over and over, scrolling through our chat history. There hadn’t been a single break in our conversations.

Even when he was away on business trips, he sent me photos of local specialties.

[Wifey, you love spicy food, so I bought this chili paste just for you.]

[I hate business trips. I just want to cuddle on the couch and binge shows with you.]

[Honey, I’m not home to watch you. Don’t stay up too late, okay?]

I stared at the photos, then instinctively clicked into the other woman’s page.

[My husband even thinks of me when he’s away on a business trip. He bought me local snacks again. He’s so clingy.]

It was the same photos. He hadn’t just sent them to me, he’d sent them to her too.

As I kept scrolling, my stomach twisted. The nights he claimed he was stuck at the office was when he was out shopping with her.

[Honey, I’m working late today. The coffee I ordered for you just arrived. Make sure it’s hot. Don’t drink anything cold during your period.]

I didn’t even know whether to laugh or cry. Even when he was with her, he still remembered my period.

When he took me on vacation, he booked her a hotel room, right next to ours.

While I slept peacefully, he soaked in the hot springs with her, pouring his heart out.

So it was true. A heart could split in two, making room for different people.

Right then, her page updated again. This time, the location was set in San Francisco.

[My husband can’t stand being away from me, so I flew over to keep him company.]

I picked up my phone, numb, and dialed Brigham’s number.

He answered almost instantly.

I remembered his promise that he’d always pick up within five rings.

"Honey, I want to give you enough security."

Back then, I had cried in his arms, touched by his words. Now, my voice was dry, cautious.

“Hubby, how about I fly to San Francisco and keep you company?”

He chuckled softly. “Why all of a sudden? I’ll be back in two days. I’d feel so guilty if my sweet wife flew all this way just for me and wore herself out.”

“Really?” I flatly asked.

“Wifey, are you upset? The flowers I ordered for you should be arriving soon. Don’t be sad, okay?”

His voice was as gentle as always, soothing me. But I could hear the loud noise in the background.

Brows knitted, I asked, “Are you outside?”

“Mm, at the airport. Picking up a client.”

He said it so confidently, like he’d hidden everything perfectly, forgetting who he was supposed to be.

I gave a short laugh. “Since when does a CEO like you need to pick up clients personally?”

Suddenly, his voice faltered, which was unusual. “It’s an important client. From overseas.”

However, a woman’s chatter never stopped in the background, and he answered her distractedly between words to me.

Making a fool out of me face-to-face, my stomach churned, and I gagged, covering my mouth.

I couldn’t listen anymore, so I cut the call short.

“We’ll talk when you’re back.”

Staring at my phone, I sat frozen for a long time before finally calling my best friend.

“Got time to take a trip to San Francisco with me?”

She agreed immediately, teasing, “Wow, so you finally decided to leave your man behind and go traveling with me?”

Maggie's POV

“Wait, did Brigham actually agree to let you leave? He’s never been the type to let you out of his sight,” she asked, doubting.

I forced myself to answer, my throat tight. “He’s cheating. Right now, he’s in San Francisco with her.”

Eyes widened, she shrieked, “What the hell?!”

Normally, it would’ve taken my best friend thirty minutes to get to my place, but this time she showed up in ten.

She sat down beside me, worry etched on her face, and patted my shoulder. “Are you sure?”

I gave a bitter laugh, pulled out my phone, and laid out all the evidence I had collected.

“God, that bastard Brigham. How dare he? He’s been acting all high and mighty, like some perfect husband.”

Before I could say anything, she was already tugging me to my feet. “Come on. First stop, the hospital. We need to make sure you didn’t catch some disgusting disease from him.”

Her words made my eyelid twitch. Without another word, I grabbed my things and followed her straight to the hospital.

The wait for the results felt endless. All I could do was piece together the timeline of his betrayal.

The first month of our marriage, they met. He played the hero, saving her from some “danger,” and she fell for him instantly.

[I couldn't believe the 'love at first sight' I only watched on drama would happen to me!] she posted.

By the third month, his mother was pressuring us to start trying for a baby. Meanwhile, I was crushed after being diagnosed with blocked fallopian tubes. That was when he accepted her confession.

[Persistence finally pays off! There’s really no man I can’t win over. I’m so happy!]

The fourth month, while I was lying on a cold operating table for a fallopian tube procedure, Brigham claimed he was on a business trip. In reality, he flew abroad with her for a “honeymoon.”

[Happiness is having the one you love by your side.]

The post was complete with a photo of them holding hands.

I thought back to when we first got together in college. He had always been so shy. Whenever I tried to hold his hand in public, he would brush me off.

“What if someone sees?” he panickingly asked.

Chuckling, I answered, “Come on, we’re in college already. It’s not like we’re kids sneaking around.”

No matter how much I pouted or begged, he refused to show affection in front of others. Posting a photo of us holding hands online was out of the question.

“Our love doesn’t need to be put on display,” he would say.

When the hospital results finally came out, everything was clear. I was healthy. I exhaled in relief and boarded a plane to San Francisco with my best friend.

Mid-flight, the private investigator I’d hired sent me a video.

Brigham and the other woman were strolling through different tourist spots, chatting, laughing, and sticking close to each other like a real couple.

“They’re disgusting. Playing house like they’re married,” my best friend spat, furious on my behalf.

I just stared blankly at the photos. My voice came out soft, almost fragile. “Do you think Brigham ever really loved me?”

I hated myself for being so pathetic, still hung up on that question.

Then, another message came in from the investigator reporting that the two of them had booked a room at a resort for tonight.

As if on cue, Brigham’s name lit up on my screen. He called, over and over, but I declined every time until he finally gave up and sent a message instead.

[Honey, why aren’t you answering? I’ve run into some issues and might need to stay a few extra days.]

That was when the ignored details came rushing back. Maybe he did love me. But he loved her more.

Whenever it came down to a choice, he always picked her without hesitation.

His heart had already shifted long ago, and I’d been too blind to see it.

The thought made my chest ache so badly that I could barely breathe. I hated him for stringing me along with scraps of affection, just enough to keep me hooked.

My best friend, on the other hand, wrapped an arm around me, cursing nonstop. “That bastard’s going to rot in hell!”

When we landed, we headed straight for the resort, and the moment I saw it, my heart twisted. This was the same place where Brigham and I had spent our honeymoon.

Not far away, I could hear the woman’s voice, sulking playfully.

“I’m jealous. Your first time here wasn’t with me.”

The hotel receptionist gave them a curious look as she pouted and leaned into his arms while he just smiled indulgently, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

Maggie's POV

“Maybe the first time wasn’t with you,” Brigham said softly, pulling her close, “but every time after this will be.”

“But I still feel upset,” she pouted. “This was my first trip to a resort.”

“Baby, I honestly forgot I’d even been here before. If you hadn’t brought it up, it wouldn’t have crossed my mind.”

That made her smile again, finally satisfied.

“You two have such a great relationship,” the receptionist said warmly, teasing them.

Her cheeks flushed. “We’re not married yet.”

Brigham pulled her into his arms, possessive. “Soon.”

I, on the other hand, suddenly felt like nothing more than a stone in their path, something they’d kick aside when it got in the way.

But I wasn’t going to take it lying down. I switched on my location and posted it to my social media.

By evening, Brigham finally called. No doubt he was too busy holding her in his arms to notice my updates. His soon-to-be ex-wife was the last thing on his mind.

“Honey, you came to San Francisco and didn’t even tell me?”

“I was planning to surprise you.” My laugh came out bitter. “But the resort’s too far from your hotel. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

“That’s perfect.” He relaxed, his voice gentler. “I’ve been calling all day, texting too, but you didn’t answer. You scared me.”

Letting out a dry chuckle, I replied, “What’s there to be scared of? I’m not a child. I won’t get lost.”

“But I wish you were, so that I could keep you with me on every trip and tuck you right in my pocket.”

Once, words like that would’ve melted me. But now they tasted like chocolate-coated shit, sickly sweet and impossible to swallow.

“You’d probably get sick of me if that were true,” I countered.

“Never. When you’re with me, I feel at peace. Once I’m back from this trip, let’s go abroad together. It’s been way too long since I’ve taken you anywhere.”

His voice was warm, full of concern and regret.

“I'm always chasing money,” he sighed, “I’ve neglected spending time with you.”

I stared at him from a distance, his arm wrapped around another woman. Is that guilt? Now, of all times?

What a joke. That apology was years too late.

“We’ll talk about it later,” I said flatly.

Panic flickered in his voice. “Honey, did something happen? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” I lied.

But Brigham suddenly shot to his feet, shoving the girl beside him without a thought. She stumbled, frowning.

“Baby, what’s your problem?” she asked, confused.

Yet he ignored her completely, scanning the area like he could spot me. “Honey, why don’t I come find you right now?”

“I’m with Marga, my best friend. Why would you come?”

His tone then shifted into pitiful, almost childlike. “You only think about your friend. We haven’t seen each other in so long. I miss you so much.”

I smiled faintly. “If I came to see you right now, it wouldn’t be convenient for you, would it?”

For once, Brigham was silent. Then, in a rush, he denied, “What wouldn’t be convenient? I’m living alone.”

“Or maybe you’d rather the office gossip that you can’t live without me, dragging your wife along even on business trips?” I replied.

That shut him up. Finally, with reluctance, he hung up. Moments later, I watched as he hurriedly pulled the girl away.

“I’m taking you back.”

She stopped in her tracks, incredulous. “What do you mean, back? It’s late. You expect me to just pack up and leave?”

His expression darkened, frustration showing as he raked a hand through his hair. He looked ready to shove her into the nearest taxi.

But she resisted fiercely, pushing him away with tears welled up in her eyes.

“At this hour? I don’t even have my bags packed or a ticket. You’re just going to send me off like that?” Her voice cracked, turning into sobs.

Seemingly snapped back to his senses, his tone softened instantly. He pulled her into his arms again and soothed her gently. “My wife’s here. She’s coming to see me tomorrow.”