Chapter 4

I searched for "Folnville, villa, March" and, sure enough, found even more stuff about them.

Some folks in their travel blogs talked about "the couple who show up every March." Someone snapped a picture of them strolling through town, just their backs in the frame.

Another person said they'd bumped into them at a local restaurant, catching them sharing a knowing smile over dinner, like they had their own secret language.

Every bit of info just proved that they'd been keeping this secret for twenty years.

I turned off my phone, lay back on the bed, and just stared up at the ceiling, wide awake.

Rupert came out of the shower, smelling fresh from the body wash. He lay down beside me and, out of habit, reached for my waist.

I pulled away again.

"What's up with you?" Rupert's voice was tinged with impatience. "Can't you just talk to me?"

I turned to face him, staring into those eyes I used to drown in, eyes that once felt so gentle. Now, all I could see was deception and betrayal.

"Rupert," my voice was hoarse as I asked, "you go to Folnville every March, don't you?"

Rupert stiffened, a look of panic flashing across his face.

He instinctively avoided my gaze, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, and for a long moment, he said nothing.

That reaction said it all.

My heart sank completely, and tears burst forth again.

Rupert's silence was like a dull knife, pressing into my heart over and over.

After a long silence, he finally looked up, his eyes a mess of emotions as he stared at me. "How... how did you know?"

He didn't deny it. That was as good as admitting everything.

Even though I'd prepared myself for this, hearing him actually say it still knocked the wind out of me.

"How did I know?" I let out a bitter laugh, tears streaming down my face.

"Rupert, you've been feeding me the same excuse for eighteen years. Every March, you run off to see her. You've got a place together in Folnville, a villa that's just yours and hers, playing house like you're married.

"And me? I've been sitting at home like a fool, taking care of the kids, waiting for you to come back, worrying about you, wondering if you're okay."

"It's not what you think!" Rupert cut me off, his voice urgent. "It's not what you're imagining between me and her."

"Not like what?" I stared at him, my voice cold.

I continued, "Is it not the kind of relationship where you spend every March together in that villa in Folnville, shopping for groceries, cooking, drinking coffee, reading, taking walks, and sharing your hearts like you're married?

"Is it not the kind of love that's lasted twenty years, never skipping a year? Rupert, when will you stop lying to me?"

I scrolled through my phone, pulling up screenshots from your shared online album, forum posts, and travel photos, then held the phone out to Rupert.

"Are these all just a lie? The account you two share, the pictures together, the promises you made—was any of it real?"

Rupert stared at the screen, his face draining of color, looking more and more ghostly.

He reached out, like he wanted to take the phone, but his hand faltered and pulled back. His lips trembled, but he couldn't get a single word out.

"She and I... we grew up together," Rupert finally managed to say.

"We were childhood sweethearts, promised to get married and spend our whole lives together. But then her family had some trouble, and she had to leave. We lost touch after that," he said.

"Lost touch?" I scoffed. "Lost touch, but you still meet up every March? Lost touch, but you two bought a place together? Lost touch, but you kept this going for twenty years?"

"No!" Rupert's voice shot up, his emotions spilling over.

He said, "Back then, she left so suddenly, I really thought I'd never see her again.

"It wasn't until twenty years ago, in March, that I randomly saw her name pop up in an old classmates' group chat and found out she was living in Folnville.

"I went to see her, and when I saw how tough things were for her, I just wanted to look out for her. We never did anything to betray you. We just... we just wanted to make up for what we lost all those years ago."

"Making up for regrets?" My heart felt like it was being stabbed with an icicle.

"Is betraying our marriage your way of making up for regrets? Rupert, tell me, what does regret even mean to you?"

"Are you really making me and the kids pay for the regrets you and her have?

"Every March, you walk out on us to go live like you're married with her. Did you ever think about me?

"Did you ever think about the kids? Did you ever think about this family?"

"Every time I came back, I brought you gifts, tried to be a good husband and dad. I thought... I thought that would somehow make things right," Rupert's voice dropped, guilt thick in his words.

"I didn't have the guts to tell you. I was afraid you'd get mad, afraid it would tear our family apart. I love you, I love the kids. I don't want to lose you guys."

"Love me?" I scoffed, my voice icy and full of disbelief.