Chapter 3

I was the woman Franklin married, and I had no clue this watch even existed.

I carefully put the watch back in its place.

I closed the drawer, and it was like nothing had ever happened.

I kept digging through the place.

Hanging at the very back of the closet was a deep gray cashmere coat—Brunello Cucinelli.

I never bought him anything from Brunello Cucinelli.

The tag was cut off, but the washing label sewn inside was still there.

I looked up the price for the same coat online—13 thousand dollars.

Digging deeper, I found a silver Zippo lighter tucked away in the corner of the drawer.

Franklin quit smoking three years ago.

At the bottom of the lighter was an engraving: F.B. & H.K.

H.K. stood for Hallie Kennedy.

The evidence was just sitting there, plain as day, right in our house.

He didn't even bother to hide it.

Or maybe he just figured I'd never go through his stuff.

Five years, and I'd never once snooped through his things.

He thought I never would.

I took photos of everything, making sure to capture every angle, every detail, every engraving—I documented it all.

Then I put them back in place and closed the closet door carefully.

As I sat there on the floor, my hands kept trembling.

I wasn't sad, but furious.

He bought an 80-thousand-dollar watch and a 13,000-dollar coat.

And in five years of marriage, the priciest thing he ever gave me was a 1,000-dollar Swarovski necklace.

He bought it for our first wedding anniversary.

And after that? Nothing. Not a single thing for the next four years.

Last year, on my birthday, he said, "Work was too busy—I forgot."

I told him it was fine.

I remembered last New Year's Eve, when the heating broke down at home.

I called the repair service for three days straight, but nobody ever showed up.

Franklin said he had flights to catch and couldn't help.

So I spent the whole afternoon fixing it myself, my hands ended up cracked and bleeding from the cold.

When I finally got the heat working, I posted on my Instagram: [Finally warm.]

He didn't even bother to like it.

But that same day, Hallie posted a picture of the Korvburg beach at sunset.

He hit like the second it went up.

How did I know that? Because I scrolled past Hallie's post on my feed.

Yeah, I added her as a friend six months ago, not because I was suspicious.

It was because in Franklin's phone contacts, her name was saved as "Miss Kennedy—Client."

Back then, I honestly thought she was just a client.

I added her as a friend, figured it'd be good to know someone from Franklin's work crowd.

Hallie accepted my friend request, but she never messaged me—not even once.

Her Instagram feed was pretty sparse.

Every now and then, she'd post a scenic shot or a cup of coffee.

Franklin never showed up in any of her photos.

But now, looking back at those photos, it finally clicked. Every single scenic photo from Korvburg was posted on the exact days Franklin was flying there.

I thought my life was peaceful and everything was perfect.

But really, I was blind to it all.

When Franklin got back from Korvburg, he brought home a bag of mangoes.

"A coworker gave them to me. Have one," Franklin said.

His tone was as casual as ever, just like any other evening over the past five years.

I took the bag from him.

They were Korvburg mangoes—twelve of them, all huge.

There was a sticker on the bag from the fruit shop: Fruva, 67 Bayview Road.

I made a mental note of the address.

"Thanks," I said.

"Yeah," he replied.

He changed his shoes and headed into the bedroom, and soon the sound of the shower started up.

And just like that, the silent treatment was over.

There was no apology, no explanation, not even a "I was wrong."

He just assumed time would smooth everything over.

Because every single time before, that was exactly how it went.

I put the mangoes in the fridge, and as I closed the door, I spotted our wedding photo tucked under a fridge magnet.

In the picture, I was grinning ear to ear.

I was twenty-six years old, ponytail, white dress—looking like I had the world at my feet.

Franklin was right beside me in his pilot uniform, looking like a total heartthrob.

Back then, I honestly thought I'd married the perfect guy.

He was a skilled pilot, everyone at work liked him, and he always treated my parents with respect.

At our wedding, he said, "The smoothest landing I've ever made was right by your side."

The whole room burst into applause.

My mom started crying right then and there.

When I thought about it now, his landings really were flawless, so flawless that I never even realized I'd been quietly parked in place for five whole years.

*****

The next morning, I was home resting.

Franklin was at the office for his pre-flight briefing.

I sat in the study and opened that encrypted folder.

Hallie showed up in the passenger records twenty-three times

Franklin made seven shift swaps just so he could fly that route.

There were twelve hotel stays where he booked two rooms each time.

There were pictures of the watch, the coat, and the lighter, with the initials of F.B. and X.H.

I organized all the evidence by date and printed everything out, page by page.

Then I grabbed my phone and texted my college roommate, Klara Bennett. [Klara, can you recommend a good divorce lawyer?]

Klara replied instantly: [What's up? Did you and Franklin have a fight?]

I said: [No.]

Klara asked: [Why the sudden need for a divorce lawyer?]

I said: [It's not sudden.]