Chapter 2
The next day, I took half a day off.
I went to David's company.
I didn't bother looking for him. I headed straight to HR.
The girl at HR recognized me right away. She knew I was David's wife.
She said, "Mrs. Carter, what brings you here?"
"Can you help me check on someone?" I said. "Emily Summers. She works here."
"Emily?" She blinked. "From Mr. Carter's department?"
"Yeah."
"Uh—"
"Is there a problem?"
She glanced around, lowered her voice, and said, "Mrs. Carter, it's a bit awkward for me to say anything. You can see for yourself."
She turned her computer screen toward me.
Emily's onboarding info popped up.
Start date: three years and four months ago.
Referrer: David Carter.
I let out a laugh.
"Referrer," I muttered.
The HR girl started, "Mrs. Carter—"
"Anything else?"
She bit her lip, then opened another folder. "This is her attendance record."
I scanned through it.
Emily's check-in times were always consistent.
But one detail jumped out.
I said, "Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, her lunch record says 'out.'
"What does that mean?"
"We have a cafeteria," the HR girl explained. "If you eat there at noon, it's logged. She never eats in the cafeteria on Mondays, Wednesdays, or Fridays."
"So where does she eat?"
"No idea. But—"
She pulled up a screenshot.
It was from the company's internal chat group.
A guy posted: [David brought Emmy lunch again today. Smells amazing.]
Replies flooded in.
[So jealous.]
[David is such a good man.]
[Emmy is so lucky.]
That was posted a year and a half ago.
I stared at those words for a long time.
"Mrs. Carter?" the HR girl asked.
"I'm fine," I said. "Thank you."
I stood up to leave, but she stopped me.
She said, "Mrs. Carter, please don't do anything impulsive."
"I'm not impulsive," I replied.
"But—"
"I only want to get some answers."
I walked out of the company and stood by the roadside for a while.
Three years and four months.
David had known me for five years, and we'd been married for five.
So when Emily joined the company, we'd been married less than two years.
Back then, I thought we were the happiest couple in the world.
I pulled out my phone and messaged Chloe: [You knew all along, didn't you?]
She replied almost instantly: [Do you want to meet her?]
Me: [Yeah.]
Chloe: [She eats lunch at the small park behind the company every Friday at noon.]
I stared at my phone, thinking, then typed: [No. I want to see for myself how he brings her lunch.]
Chloe sent an 'OK' emoji.
Then she said, [Sarah, I'll go with you.]
Me: [No need.]
Chloe: [You're going alone?]
Me: [I can handle it myself.]
I hung up and looked up at the sky.
The sky was clear blue, the sunlight so bright it hurt my eyes.
Suddenly, something hit me.
Last month, I had a fever of 102.2°F, chills all over, and couldn't get out of bed.
I called David and told him I felt awful.
He said, "Take some medicine and sleep it off. I'm working overtime today, I'll be home late."
That night, he really did work late.
He didn't come home until eleven.
The next morning, he got up at 5:30 as usual to make lunch.
I asked him, "What were you working on last night?"
He said, "Rushing a project."
Now I got it.
He was working overtime, all right.
He was rushing, too.
Just not for work.
He was rushing to make soup for Emily.
I scrolled through the call logs.
That night at eleven, he called Emily.
They talked for 27 minutes.
And the line he gave me, [Take some medicine and sleep it off,] took him only 15 seconds.
*****
Friday at noon, I headed to the park behind David's company.
I picked a spot in the corner and sat down, waiting.
At 12:10, David showed up.
He was carrying an insulated lunch bag, walking briskly.
He walked right past me without noticing I was there.
He kept going for about fifty yards and stopped in front of a bench.
There was a woman sitting on it.
She had long hair and wore a white dress, so thin she looked like a gust of wind could blow her away.
It was Emily.
David walked over and sat down beside her.
He opened the lunch bag and took out a lunchbox.
"I made your favorite barbecue ribs today," he said.
I wasn't far away, so I could hear every word they said.
"You always make the best food," Emily said with a smile, taking the utensils from him.
"And there's chicken soup. Careful, it's hot," he added.
He pulled out a thermos, unscrewed the lid, and handed it to her.
"David," Emily suddenly asked, "does your wife know about this?"
My heart skipped a beat.
David froze for a second, then shook his head. "She doesn't know."
She asked, "So how long are you planning to keep this from her?"
"I'm not keeping this from her." David let out a sigh. "We've been married for five years. There's nothing left between us."
Emily lowered her head and picked up a rib. "Then why not get a divorce?"
"It's not the right time yet."
"When will it be the right time?"
David went quiet for a moment. "When you're feeling better, when the company's project is done..."
"You keep telling me to wait." Emily put down her utensils. "David, I've been waiting for you for three years."
"I know." He reached out and took her hand. "Give me a little more time."
Emily didn't say a word, simply let him hold her hand.
I watched them from the side, like I was sitting in a movie theater, watching someone else's story play out.
The male lead was all tenderness, the female lead looked heartbreakingly fragile.
What about me?
I was probably some clueless extra, not aware of the plot.
Not even a supporting character. Just background noise.
I stood up and walked over, slow and steady.
When I was about three yards away from them, I stopped.
"David," I called out.
David stiffened.
He turned his head, and the moment he saw me, his face went completely white.
He blurted out, "S-Sarah? How did you—"