Chapter 1 · Two A.M. Bedroom Photo

At two in the morning, a strange number pinged my phone.

I opened it and there it was—a photo of my husband tangled up with some woman in bed.

So close it burned.

The caption said nothing but Good night, Claire.

I didn't reply.

Instead, I went through her social media, tracked down her parents' contact info.

And forwarded the picture exactly as I'd received it.

I added one line: [Auntie, Uncle, your daughter sure keeps busy. Can't even go to sleep without sending pictures to report in.]

By the next day, her whole family was a war zone.

At 2 a.m., my phone buzzed.

It was a message from an unknown number.

I opened it and saw a picture of my husband, Miles, in bed with some woman I'd never seen before.

So close it burned.

The caption said nothing but Good night, Claire.

The provocation was practically oozing from the screen.

I stared at that photo for a long time.

Miles looked so peaceful, his side profile strikingly handsome.

The woman was Luna White.

She was the new intern at Miles's company, with a sweet, innocent vibe and a social media feed full of picture-perfect moments.

I'd seen her a few times—Miles had brought her along to company team-building events, introducing her as someone they were grooming for big things.

Guess the "grooming" ended up with her in his bed.

I didn't freak out. I didn't call Miles to demand answers.

Didn't even send Luna a single word.

I sat out on the balcony, quietly watching the city nightscape outside.

Five years of marriage, and I'd poured everything I had into our home.

I quit a high-paying job, became a full-time housewife, cooking and cleaning every day, and put up with his fussy mom for years.

And what did I get for all that? A bed photo and a taunting "Good night, sis-in-law."

It was like someone punched a hole right through my chest, cold air pouring in.

Did it hurt?

Yeah, it hurt.

But what hit me harder was the cold that seeped into my bones.

There's nothing sadder than when your heart dies inside.

Guess this is what that feels like.

I picked up my phone and tapped on Luna's profile picture.

Her Moments were wide open—she didn't bother to hide anything from me.

Her feed was full of selfies, workout pics, food shots, and travel snaps.

A little princess, sheltered by her parents and just a bit vain.

Her latest post was from yesterday afternoon.

"Birthday gift from Mom and Dad—totally obsessed with it!"

The photo showed off a designer bag.

There were dozens of comments, but one stood out.

One from someone with the contact name "Mom" said, "Glad you like it, my precious girl will always be a princess."

I checked out this "Mom's" Moments feed.

Her feed was wide open.

It was full of health tips she'd reposted and snapshots of her daughter's everyday life.

It was easy—I spotted her phone number in a link where she was campaigning for votes for her daughter.

I followed the trail and, using the same trick, found her dad's contact info too.

By the time I was done, the sky was already turning pale with the first light of dawn.

I stared at that blinding bed photo and let out a bitter laugh.

The side chick wants to keep me up all night.

Alright then. Her whole family could forget about sleeping tonight.

I forwarded the photo to Luna's mom without changing a thing.

With a message: [Hey, Auntie, your daughter is really busy—even sends you bed selfies as work reports.]

Then I sent the exact same thing to her dad.

After all that, I blocked Luna and cleared the chats with her mom and dad.

It felt like nothing had ever happened.

I walked into the kitchen, just like any other morning, and started making breakfast.

Sandwiches, fried eggs, and hot milk.

That was the breakfast Miles always had, rain or shine.

I set the breakfast on the table, but I didn't feel like eating.

I poured myself a glass of warm water and sat at the table, waiting in silence.

At 7:30, Miles came home.

He reeked of booze and some unfamiliar perfume.

When he saw me sitting at the table, he froze for a second, then gave me an awkward, trying-to-please smile.

"Claire, why are you up so early?"

He walked over and went in for a hug.

I leaned away, avoiding him.

His hand froze mid-air, awkwardness written all over his face.

"Had to entertain a big client last night," he explained. "Drank a bit too much, ended up sleeping at the hotel."

"Forgot to charge my phone, so I couldn't text you back. Don't be mad, okay?"

He'd used this excuse a million times.

Back then, I would've believed him, maybe even made him some hangover soup because I felt sorry for him.

But now, all I felt was disgust.

I looked at him, my gaze cold and dead, like all the life had drained out of me.

"Miles."

"Yeah?"

"Let's get a divorce."

His face froze, like he'd just heard the biggest joke of his life.

Chapter 1

At two in the morning, a strange number pinged my phone.

I opened it and there it was—a photo of my husband tangled up with some woman in bed.

So close it burned.

The caption said nothing but Good night, Claire.

I didn't reply.

Instead, I went through her social media, tracked down her parents' contact info.

And forwarded the picture exactly as I'd received it.

I added one line: [Auntie, Uncle, your daughter sure keeps busy. Can't even go to sleep without sending pictures to report in.]

By the next day, her whole family was a war zone.

At 2 a.m., my phone buzzed.

It was a message from an unknown number.

I opened it and saw a picture of my husband, Miles, in bed with some woman I'd never seen before.

So close it burned.

The caption said nothing but Good night, Claire.

The provocation was practically oozing from the screen.

I stared at that photo for a long time.

Miles looked so peaceful, his side profile strikingly handsome.

The woman was Luna White.

She was the new intern at Miles's company, with a sweet, innocent vibe and a social media feed full of picture-perfect moments.

I'd seen her a few times—Miles had brought her along to company team-building events, introducing her as someone they were grooming for big things.

Guess the "grooming" ended up with her in his bed.

I didn't freak out. I didn't call Miles to demand answers.

Didn't even send Luna a single word.

I sat out on the balcony, quietly watching the city nightscape outside.

Five years of marriage, and I'd poured everything I had into our home.

I quit a high-paying job, became a full-time housewife, cooking and cleaning every day, and put up with his fussy mom for years.

And what did I get for all that? A bed photo and a taunting "Good night, sis-in-law."

It was like someone punched a hole right through my chest, cold air pouring in.

Did it hurt?

Yeah, it hurt.

But what hit me harder was the cold that seeped into my bones.

There's nothing sadder than when your heart dies inside.

Guess this is what that feels like.

I picked up my phone and tapped on Luna's profile picture.

Her Moments were wide open—she didn't bother to hide anything from me.

Her feed was full of selfies, workout pics, food shots, and travel snaps.

A little princess, sheltered by her parents and just a bit vain.

Her latest post was from yesterday afternoon.

"Birthday gift from Mom and Dad—totally obsessed with it!"

The photo showed off a designer bag.

There were dozens of comments, but one stood out.

One from someone with the contact name "Mom" said, "Glad you like it, my precious girl will always be a princess."

I checked out this "Mom's" Moments feed.

Her feed was wide open.

It was full of health tips she'd reposted and snapshots of her daughter's everyday life.

It was easy—I spotted her phone number in a link where she was campaigning for votes for her daughter.

I followed the trail and, using the same trick, found her dad's contact info too.

By the time I was done, the sky was already turning pale with the first light of dawn.

I stared at that blinding bed photo and let out a bitter laugh.

The side chick wants to keep me up all night.

Alright then. Her whole family could forget about sleeping tonight.

I forwarded the photo to Luna's mom without changing a thing.

With a message: [Hey, Auntie, your daughter is really busy—even sends you bed selfies as work reports.]

Then I sent the exact same thing to her dad.

After all that, I blocked Luna and cleared the chats with her mom and dad.

It felt like nothing had ever happened.

I walked into the kitchen, just like any other morning, and started making breakfast.

Sandwiches, fried eggs, and hot milk.

That was the breakfast Miles always had, rain or shine.

I set the breakfast on the table, but I didn't feel like eating.

I poured myself a glass of warm water and sat at the table, waiting in silence.

At 7:30, Miles came home.

He reeked of booze and some unfamiliar perfume.

When he saw me sitting at the table, he froze for a second, then gave me an awkward, trying-to-please smile.

"Claire, why are you up so early?"

He walked over and went in for a hug.

I leaned away, avoiding him.

His hand froze mid-air, awkwardness written all over his face.

"Had to entertain a big client last night," he explained. "Drank a bit too much, ended up sleeping at the hotel."

"Forgot to charge my phone, so I couldn't text you back. Don't be mad, okay?"

He'd used this excuse a million times.

Back then, I would've believed him, maybe even made him some hangover soup because I felt sorry for him.

But now, all I felt was disgust.

I looked at him, my gaze cold and dead, like all the life had drained out of me.

"Miles."

"Yeah?"

"Let's get a divorce."

His face froze, like he'd just heard the biggest joke of his life.