Chapter 2
The call hung up.
I sat on the couch, gripping my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white.
Andrew and I had been married for five years, and from the first year, he suggested we each spend the holidays with our own families.
Every year, on the day before Christmas Eve, he'd drive back to Willowbrook, while I'd take the plane to Maplefield.
When my colleagues and friends found out about this, they were all jealous.
They'd say, "Girl, your husband is amazing. Ever since I got married, I have had to spend every holiday with my in-laws. My mom's all alone back home, and whenever I want to go see her, my husband says I don't know how to behave."
They said I was lucky, that I found myself a husband who actually understood me.
I thought so, too.
At least, until today, I realized things weren't as simple as I believed.
The man I had been sleeping next to for five years suddenly felt like a total stranger.
I kept scrolling through Samantha's Instagram.
Her profile was packed with selfies, food pics, shopping hauls, and even screenshots of her chats.
It looked like any regular girl's daily life.
But everywhere I looked, there were signs of Andrew.
I scrolled straight to the very bottom and started reading from the oldest posts, five years ago.
Five years ago, Andrew and I had just gotten married.
Samantha's first Instagram post was from five years ago, too.
She wrote: [There's this guy at work who always looks at me like he can't stand me. He's got a permanent scowl on his face.]
I was pretty sure she meant Andrew.
But soon after, they went on a business trip together, and their dynamic shifted.
Samantha shared a journal entry.
[Who would've thought? After that trip, I actually ended up becoming meal buddies with that guy who always looked like he couldn't stand me.]
There was a photo of the two of them having a barbecue, raising their glasses together.
The vibe between them looked really warm and friendly.
The first year after Andrew and I got married, his company organized a team-building outing.
Andrew took a lot of drinks for Samantha that night.
Samantha wrote: [At the company event, he actually helped me out by drinking for me. Honestly, it moved me.]
The post included a photo of a wine glass, with a man's hand right beside it.
On his wrist was a black watch.
It was Andrew's.
In our second year of marriage, one day, Samantha shared a screenshot of their chat.
Samantha: [Ugh, I'm so fed up. Today's client was impossible.]
Andrew: [Cheer up. I'll take you out for something tasty tonight.]
Samantha: [Really? What are we eating?]
Andrew: [You decide. I've got a stupid client I need to complain about, too.]
I remembered how, back when we were dating, Andrew used to tell me about his work every single day.
He'd go on about what meetings he had, which clients he saw, whether his boss gave him a thumbs up or chewed him out.
At the time, it felt nice that Andrew wanted to tell me everything.
But starting from our second year of marriage, he barely talked about work anymore.
When I asked, he'd say work was the same stuff, nothing to talk about.
Turned out, all those stories went to Samantha instead.
In our third year of marriage, on Valentine's Day, Samantha posted something on Instagram.
The caption read: [The best Valentine's gift ever.]
There were a bunch of photos attached.
The first one showed a huge bouquet of red roses, looking absolutely gorgeous.
The second was a photo of a card that read: [I've liked you for so long, ever since the first time I saw you.]
The third was a picture of Samantha with someone else, but only the man's shoulder and half of his face were visible.
But I recognized that profile instantly; it was Andrew.
He was wearing that gray T-shirt I bought for him.