Chapter 1
My favorite fried fish was on the table.
When I took a bite, my smile froze.
"Why did you get this from somewhere else today?" I asked.
My boyfriend, Yannis Young, kept picking out fish bones, looking puzzled. "I've always bought from this place. Does it taste different?"
I didn't rush to answer. Instead, I watched him expertly pick out the fish bones.
Finally, I smiled casually, "When did you get so good at picking out fish bones?"
His hand paused mid-motion.
The tension instantly froze the room.
I chewed my fish in silence, my fingers gripping the fork so tightly my knuckles went pale.
Yannis finished picking out a whole piece of fish with practiced ease. But then, unexpectedly, his hand trembled and his fork slipped to the floor.
As I bent down to pick it up for him, he said in a gentle voice, "I learned because you like it."
His answer got to me. He'd always been so gentle, considerate, and incredibly patient with me.
A warm feeling washed over me, and I couldn't help but tease, "We've been together for three years, and you just learned this? Aren't you a little slow?"
Yannis cleared his throat. "It's my fault. I'll make sure to improve."
Once my doubts faded, I slid the whole plate of fish over to him. "Go ahead."
Yannis looked up, a bit surprised. Then he scooped up a big piece of crispy fried fish and held it to my lips.
"I messed up and bought the wrong one. Taste it first. A different flavor can be nice sometimes," Yannis said, his voice carrying a hint of apology.
Under his expectant gaze, my smile faltered. I asked, testing the waters, "Is this really for me?"
He nodded, his face sincere.
I held back my trembling body and forced myself to take a small bite of the tomato‑sauce‑covered fried fish.
That night, I skipped our precious evening walk with Yannis.
The sound of my retching echoed from the bathroom.
It wasn't until I spat up the bitter, tomato‑tinged liquid that I slumped down against the cold tiles, completely drained.
I couldn't believe that Yannis would forget about my tomato allergy.
He'd kept track of all my dietary restrictions in his phone for years. How could he forget today?
Something fishy was going on.
After wiping my mouth and taking a quick shower, I stepped out of the bathroom.
Yannis's phone wasn't on the coffee table in the living room.
In the past, when we went for walks together, he always left it at home, saying it was a hassle to carry.
That habit hadn't changed in all these years.
But tonight, the one time I skipped our walk, he brought his phone along.
Endless doubts swirled in my mind, clouding my vision as I glanced around this hard-won home.
For a moment, I felt lost.
About half an hour later, Yannis came back. He peeled off his sweat-soaked gym clothes, dropped his phone, and went into the bathroom.
Hearing the sound of running water from the bathroom, I unlocked his phone cautiously.
The password was still our anniversary, unchanged for three years.
I checked his social media apps; his favorites, private messages, and chat history were all empty.
The only order was the roses he got me last week.
On his shopping app, there was a delivery in progress. I tapped on it to check.
He'd ordered the period underwear I usually wear.
But I always bought these kinds of items myself. So who were they for?
Just then, the water stopped running in the bathroom, and my heart skipped a beat.
As I put the phone back in panic, my finger accidentally swiped down the screen.
And I spotted the photo gallery icon in his frequently used apps.
But I didn't have time to look through it. Reluctantly, I closed the page.
That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
*****
Dawn was barely breaking.
Sporting two big dark circles under my eyes, I dragged myself out for a morning jog.
As I passed by, I overheard several old ladies downstairs chatting while they worked out.
"Last night, I spotted a strange young guy. He dumped tap water all over himself."
"Maybe he's under a lot of stress. Young people these days don't have it easy."
"Oh, right, I took a picture of him last night. Let me show you."
Curious, I peeked over. To my surprise, the blurry profile in the photo reminded me of Yannis.
"Excuse me," I said, my voice shaky and hoarse. "Was the guy you saw last night wearing a black sports jacket and white sneakers?"
The lady smacked her leg. "Yeah, that's right. How did you know? Are you friends or something?
"He paced back and forth on this road talking on the phone last night. As soon as he hung up, he ran to splash water all over himself. Really weird."
I felt like all the strength had drained out of me. Barely managing to shake my head, I said, "I don't know him."
I truly felt like Yannis was starting to become a stranger to me.
As I walked home, one undeniable truth kept echoing in my mind.
Yannis was cheating on me.