Chapter 1
He had two phones—one he showed me, the other hidden for ten years. That day, he got drunk, his suit slung over the door.
I reached for his phone, just to check the time. When I pulled it out, it was the same model, the same case, but not the one I had held before.
I lit up the screen. At the top of WhatsApp, the first contact was saved as Honey, but it wasn't me.
*****
My name was Violet Carrington. I was thirty-five, and I had been married for ten years.
My husband, Dominic Walsh, was a sales director at a company.
To everyone else, we were the perfect couple.
On Instagram, he'd often post pictures of us, with captions like, [My wife's cooking is amazing] or [Ten years in, and I still love you just as much.]
The Instagram comments were full of envy.
[Dominic is such a good man.]
[You two have such a great relationship.]
[When am I ever going to meet a guy like him?]
Honestly, I thought so, too.
Even though Dominic was always busy, working late, traveling for business, he still gave me his salary every month, right on time.
He wasn't totally uninvolved at home. Sometimes he'd tag along when I went shopping, buy me new clothes, and he never missed my birthday or our anniversary.
My mom always said, "Dominic is such a solid, down-to-earth guy."
His mother would say, "Violet, you really hit the jackpot marrying him."
I honestly felt blessed myself.
Everything seemed perfect until that night. It was just another work party.
He stumbled in after eleven, smelling like he'd bathed in whiskey.
I helped him onto the bed and took off his jacket.
He slurred, "Don't touch my phone."
I just brushed it off. He always got like this when he was drunk, rambling about who knows what.
I hung his suit jacket on the rack by the door and headed to the bathroom to freshen up.
When I came out of the bathroom, I wanted to check the time.
My phone was charging, so without thinking, I reached into his suit pocket for his.
But the moment I pulled it out, I froze. Something felt off.
His phone case was always matte, but this one was smooth.
I took a closer look. It was the same model, same color, same size, but it definitely wasn't the phone I knew.
My first thought was that he switched phones. But that didn't add up. He'd just used his usual phone to snap photos of me last week.
I remembered that perfectly. Then, what was this supposed to be?
I unlocked the phone. There was no password. There were more than thirty unread messages on WhatsApp.
I tapped in. The pinned contact at the top was labeled "Honey." Her profile picture showed a woman with long hair in a white dress, seen from behind.
I froze. That wasn't me.
My WhatsApp name was "Violet," and my profile picture was our wedding photo. But this "Honey" wasn't me.
I scrolled down. The latest message was sent at 9:15 PM tonight. [Babe, come home early after you finish drinking. I'll be waiting for you.] There was even a kiss emoji at the end.
He replied: [Sure, babe. Be home soon.]
I stared at those two lines. Be home soon? He said that at 9:15, but he didn't walk through the door until 11.
It was almost two hours. Where was he all that time?
My hands trembled as she scrolled up.
[Babe, what's for lunch today?]
[Babe, I miss you.]
[Babe, want to video chat tonight?]
[Babe, when will you spend more time with me?]
Message after message, every single one called him "Babe." And every time, he replied with a softness, so much gentler than he ever was with me.
I bit my lip, holding back any sound. My fingers scrolled up on their own, unstoppable. Three months back. Six months. A year.
There was not a single break ever.
I exited the chat and checked the phone's call history. All of his recent calls had been to her.
I set the phone down, my hands shaking. I couldn't bring myself to look anymore.
I glanced over at the man sprawled on the bed. He was out cold, muttering under his breath.
Who was he, really? Who had I actually been married to for ten years? My mind was a total blank.
I spent the whole night wide awake, parked on the living room couch, my eyes locked on that phone. I was frozen, afraid to touch it, yet the urge to pick it up gnawed at me, impossible to resist.
By four in the morning, I finally reached for the phone again.
This time, I skipped WhatsApp and opened the photo gallery instead.
The moment I opened the gallery, my heart stopped for a second.
The very first photo was of him with another woman.
She was leaning against his shoulder, with a sweet smile on her face.
His arm was around her waist, and in the background was a restaurant, one I instantly recognized.
On our third anniversary, he said that the place was way too expensive, no point in going.
The second photo was of them at the beach. She was in a bikini, and he was snapping pictures of her. The date on the photo was last August.
Last August, he told me he had some urgent work and had to go on a week-long business trip. I even packed his suitcase for him.
Pic after pic showed they went shopping, eating out, on movie nights, and on trips. It was always just the two of them.
And every timestamp matched up exactly with the times Dominic told me he was working late, on a business trip, or at a company dinner.
I let out a dry laugh. So this was it. This was what my ten years of marriage really amounted to. It was a complete joke.
Morning came, and Dominic walked out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes. "Babe, why are you up so early?"
I looked at him. "Where's your phone?"
"Huh?" Dominic blinked, reaching for his pocket, but came up empty. He checked the other pocket, but it was empty, too.
For a split second, Violet caught a subtle shift in his expression, barely noticeable, but she saw it.
"Maybe it's in the bedroom," he said, then hurried off.
I heard him searching around in the bedroom.
A minute later, he came out, holding the phone he always used. His expression was back to normal.
"I found it," he said with a smile. "Guess I was pretty drunk last night and just set it down somewhere."
I stayed quiet, just watching him.
He wasn't searching for this phone. He was after the other one, the one I had hidden away in my purse. He didn't have a clue.
"Babe, what's up?" Dominic came over, looking worried. "You don't look so great."
"I'm fine." I forced a smile. "Just didn't sleep well last night."
"Why don't you go lie down for a bit? I'll get us some breakfast," Dominic offered. He grabbed his keys and headed out.
The moment the door clicked shut, I closed my eyes. I had married to Dominic for ten years, and he had been hiding this from me for a decade. Fine, we would settle this score, bit by bit.