The Lies Unravel
I didn’t go home that day. I took a cab to my friend Melissa’s downtown apartment, shivering the entire ride. The driver asked if I was okay—I told him I was just tired. How do you explain that your new husband might have betrayed you in the most unimaginable way?
Melissa listened in stunned silence as I told her everything. She’d never liked Ethan, always saying he was “too close” to his mother. I used to laugh it off, thinking she was exaggerating.
“Anna,” she said carefully, “you need proof before you do anything drastic. You need to know what really happened.”
Proof. Logic. Something solid to hold onto.
So I went back to the hotel that afternoon, after Ethan left for brunch—with his mother, of course. The same mother who had slept in my bed. The front desk manager recognized me instantly, still smiling from the day before, when we’d posed for wedding photos. I forced a polite smile and said I’d forgotten something in the room.
The room had been cleaned, but not completely. The sheets were fresh, but the trash bin hadn’t been emptied yet. Inside, beneath tissues and a broken champagne cork, was another wrapper. The same kind.
Two.
My stomach twisted.
That evening, I called Ethan. My voice was calm—eerily calm. “Can we meet?” I asked. “I just want to talk. Just us.”
He agreed, sounding relieved. We met at a small café near his office. He looked tired, even guilty. For a moment, I almost believed there could be an innocent explanation. Until I saw the text pop up on his phone when he set it down:
“Did she ask anything? I love you. — Mom ❤️”
He saw my expression change and grabbed the phone, but it was too late.
“Ethan,” I whispered, “what the hell is going on between you and her?”
He stood abruptly. “You’re invading my privacy!”
“Your privacy?” I laughed bitterly. “You married me yesterday! And your mother slept in our bed!”
People turned to look. He grabbed my arm, his voice low. “Keep your voice down.”
“Why?” I hissed. “Now you’re embarrassed?”
He didn’t answer. He just walked out, leaving me alone with the weight of the truth I already knew.
