Chapter 5

Julia was totally in her element, moving through the crowd like she'd been here a thousand times and helping herself to food with that practiced confidence.

I just picked up whatever seemed alright.

After I finished telling her everything, Julia leaned back and said, "Honey, you know what they say. If you see one cockroach, there are a hundred you don't."

I put down the pastry in my hand. Suddenly, I didn't feel like eating at all.

"Cockroaches? Just wipe them out. But the real question is you, Sophia," Julia said, turning the conversation.

I stared at her, totally confused.

Julia took a graceful sip of her coffee and lightly tapped the tabletop.

"Michael has set up a very comfortable life for you. But that's your biggest risk—it's like the frog in warm water that doesn't feel the heat rising until it's too late to jump. If anything happens to him, you'll be stuck," she said.

Her words were light, but they hit me like a ton of bricks.

Missing my parents' love, I really depended on Michael.

Our little family meant the world to me.

At work, I kept turning down all kinds of opportunities my boss offered, just wanting to keep things stable so I had the energy to look after my home.

We'd been married for two years with no kids yet, and recently, we'd even started seriously talking about me quitting my job so I could focus on trying for a baby.

But what did Michael do?

All he really had to do was work. Because I managed everything at home, he never had to worry—every promotion landed right in his lap, and his career just kept soaring so effortlessly.

Julia's words really woke me up.

As soon as I got to work, I dropped into my seat and checked my inbox.

HR had already shot over another reminder.

The company had just built a new branch overseas and was calling for volunteers to help kickstart it.

The three-year assignment was widely seen as a direct path to an upper management role at headquarters upon the employee's return.

And today was the last chance to sign up.

I tapped out a quick reply, attached the application I'd finished last night, and fired it off without a second thought.

I ended up working late, clocking out close to ten.

When I got home, the living room lights were still on, and takeout containers were scattered all over the coffee table.

The master bedroom door was firmly shut.

It seemed he was giving me the silent treatment.

I looked over at the bedroom door. Honestly, it didn't bother me anymore.

We just ignored each other.

It stayed that way until another evening came around.

Around nine, after I finished washing up, I headed to the guest room to get some sleep.

Michael showed up out of nowhere and stopped me at the doorway.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" he asked.

"I'm wiped out. Honestly, whatever it is, let's just talk tomorrow," I muttered, clearly done for the night.

I tried to push him away, but he just wrapped me up in a tight hug.

"Babe, seriously, can you stop all this? I've already told Lydia not to come around anymore," he pleaded.

As he spoke, he bent down and kissed my neck.

Something about the way he felt—his messy energy, his scent—made me suddenly nervous for no real reason.

I tried to push him away again, but he wouldn't budge.

His actions escalated. He locked an arm around my waist, dropped into a crouch, and tried to sweep me up into a bridal carry.

"A couple's quarrel always ends in bed. Let me show you how satisfying our reconciliation can be," he whispered.

Cornered, I said the words that went against my own heart. "We have a check-up tomorrow. Have you forgotten? Go back to your room. I'll sleep here. We can't afford to ruin our progress now."

As I brought up the check-up, he just seemed to get even more fired up.

He started pulling at my clothes, getting pretty forceful.

"I can't take it anymore. I don't care if we have to wait three more days. I need you right now," he muttered, his voice low and desperate.

Something was wrong. This level of impulsiveness was unlike him; it felt like a deliberate attempt to conceal something.

An ugly realization dawned: he had broken the medical guidelines by not maintaining the necessary abstinence. Perhaps he was just hoping that tonight's intimacy would cover for it.

That suspicion pushed me over the edge. I mustered every ounce of strength and kicked him away from me.

"Snap out of it!" I yelled at him, my voice sharp and angry.

Then I shoved him out hard and locked the door behind me.

Michael kept knocking on the door from the other side.

I climbed back into bed and pulled up the security camera app on my phone.

I set it up in the living room just yesterday.

Even though I'd already braced myself for the worst, I still wasn't ready for what I saw.

The video evidence was undeniable. There was Michael, at just past three in the afternoon when he should have been at work, strolling into our master bedroom with Lydia—the woman he'd claimed he fired.

I couldn't hold it together anymore.