Chapter 3
I walked back into the complex, went upstairs, and unlocked my door.
Sitting on the sofa, I began piecing together everything I'd gathered that day.
The surveillance showed her using David's key card, entering the building nearly every day for the last three months.
The convenience store owner remembered David calling her his "sister-in-law."
The guard had overheard her pressing David about when he would finally divorce me.
For three months, I'd been juggling business trips, overtime, sleepless nights, and mortgage payments, while he'd been playing house with another woman in my home.
I picked up my phone, found her profile among the accounts David followed, and looked up her Instagram.
Her account was public, so I began scrolling through her posts.
Her most recent post was from yesterday.
It was a photo of her leaning back on a couch, smiling sweetly around a straw from a coffee.
I recognized that as my couch.
The cup had a Starbucks logo on it.
Beneath the photo was a single word: Home.
I stared at that word for a long time.
This was all mine. I had paid for these walls, I had been paying the mortgage, I had picked out every stick of furniture, and I was the one who cleaned these floors. She had no claim to any of it.
I kept scrolling. Three days earlier, the post was a selfie of her in bed, pouting with one shoulder bare.
She lay on pink sheets, the same set I'd thrown out the day before.
Underneath it, she'd written: [Honey said he likes pink, so I changed it all.]
I knew exactly who the person she called "honey" was.
A month ago, there was a photo of her and David, his arm around her waist, both of them smiling happily.
The background was a restaurant, the same one David and I went to every anniversary.
Her caption read: [Happy three-year anniversary, honey.]
David and I had also been together for three years.
But when our third anniversary came around, he told me he had a work event. I spent it alone, eating instant noodles in this same apartment.
It turned out he spent our anniversary with her instead.
I set my phone down and closed my eyes.
I didn't cry or get angry. I just felt a chill that started deep inside and spread through my entire body, freezing me from the inside out.
My phone buzzed with a text from David.
[Honey, I'm coming home for dinner tonight. Don't bother cooking. I'll pick up food on my way.]
I read it, but didn't reply.
After setting the phone on silent, I left it aside.
Then I opened a notebook and began to list everything.
[1. Surveillance footage saved on a USB drive.
[2. Screenshots of every delivery order for two over the past three months.
[3. Seventeen entries in the property log, all under Sophia Lane.
[4. David introduced her as his sister-in-law, from the convenience store owner.
[5. Sophia pressed David about when he would get a divorce, from the security guard.
[6. Her social media posts—photos, location tags, and captions.]
I had to make sure I had every shred of proof.
I stared at the notebook and took a deep breath.
There was one last thing I needed, the most important piece. I had to witness it with my own eyes and hear it with my own ears. I wanted to catch David so thoroughly that he couldn't say a word.
I picked up my phone and texted David. [I'm having dinner with a friend tonight. You're on your own.]
He replied almost instantly. [Alright, I'll just work a bit late then.]
I almost laughed at his lie.
I threw on my coat, grabbed my bag, and headed out.
Then I sat in my car by the entrance and waited.
At 7:30 PM, a white Accord pulled into the complex.
David got out, and from the passenger seat stepped Sophia, in a floral dress.
She had long hair, looked young, and was smiling sweetly.
She linked her arm through his as they walked toward the building, talking and laughing.
I watched them until they disappeared inside. This was the final piece I needed.
I pulled out my phone and hit record.
They walked into the elevator, and the doors closed behind them.
I counted to thirty, and the lights in my apartment lit up.
I stopped the recording and took a deep breath. Now, I had all the evidence I needed. Time to make my move.
*****
I sat in my car for an hour, staring at the lights in my apartment.
I sat in the car for another hour, watching the warm yellow light glowing from my windows. It looked so welcoming, like a real home should.
Except my husband was in there with another woman.
Finally, I picked up the phone and called David.
He picked up. "Hey, babe, everything okay?"
"I'm home," I said.
"But... I thought you were out with your friend tonight?" he asked.
"Plans changed. I'm downstairs. Come get me," I replied.
He paused for a couple of seconds. "Oh, okay, I'll be right down."
Five minutes later, David came out of the building.
He walked over to my car and knocked on the window.
I rolled it down and met his eyes.
"Babe, what are you doing sitting in the car? Come on, let's head upstairs," he said.
I looked at his face. He seemed perfectly calm, even wearing a faint smile, as if nothing at all was wrong.
"Is she up there?" I asked.
"What?" he replied, sounding confused.
"Sophia Lane," I said. "Is she up there?"
David's expression flickered for an instant before settling back into place.
"Come on, what are you talking about? Who's Sophia?" he said, acting clueless.
"Stop pretending," I said, pushing open the car door and stepping out. "I've been tracking everything for three months—the security tapes, delivery receipts, visitor logs, what the neighbors said, even her social media posts."
David just stared at me, not saying a single word.
"You brought her into my home. You let her live here for three months. She ordered food to my address. She posed on my sofa. She slept in my bed," I pressed.
Step by step, I closed in on him. "She dares to call this place 'home'? David, this is my home."
"Emily, please, let me explain," David said.
"I don't want to hear it," I replied, turning and walking toward the entrance.
"Come upstairs with me. We're going to settle this, right in front of her," I said.
"Emily..." David grabbed my arm, sounding desperate. "Just calm down, okay? I can explain—"
"Explain what?" I shoved his hand away. "Explain how you've been sneaking around behind my back? Or why you moved her into the home I paid for?"
"She... She's just—" David mumbled, his words dying in his throat.
"Just what?" I snapped.
He hung his head, silent.
I let out a cold, bitter laugh. "Come on. Upstairs."