I snatched his phone off the coffee table the moment he left the room to use the bathroom. My heart pounded so vi0lently I thought it might burst. A cold dread had been gnawing at my gut for days now, twisting and tightening like a sickness I couldn’t shake. And now, staring at that glowing screen in the darkened living room, I knew why.

The phone’s bright light stabbed at my eyes, casting eerie shadows against the curtains. Without hesitation, my trembling fingers swiped past the lock screen, desperate to find the truth. Then I saw it—her name. Bold, glowing, unmistakable.

My breath caught in my thr0at. The air suddenly thickened, heavy and suffocating. I scrolled upward, my eyes frantically scanning the messages, the timestamps, the dates that matched all his late nights and suspicious absences. My fingers grew numb as the reality sank in.

Suddenly, his voice shattered the silence, sharp and accu$ing: “What are you doing?”

“You were with her,” I choked out, tears blurring my vision as I thrust the screen toward him.

His face drained of color and then hardened into something unreadable. “It’s not what you think,” he mumbled. But I knew. I knew this wasn’t just a lie. It was the end of everything I believed.

Then, a new notification flickered across the top of the screen—another message from the same contact.

“Still smiling thinking about yesterday. Hope you sorted things out okay xx.”

My st0mach dropped further than I thought possible. This was no accident. It was a merciless confirmation, brutal and final, delivered right to my face in the worst moment of my life.

I didn’t need to scroll anymore; I didn’t want to hear the weak excuses I knew would come. A cold rage began to replace the raw sh0ck burning in my che$t.

“Sorted things out?” I repeated slowly, voice dangerously low as tears dried on my cheeks. “You were with her yesterday. And she’s hoping you ‘sorted things out’ with me? What exactly did you tell her?”

He lunged for the phone, desperation in his eyes, but I pulled it back, clutching it like a shield. His gaze darted wildly, cornered, exposed.

“It’s not like that! It was a mistake—just a few times—”

“A few times?” I scoffed, nodding at the glowing screen. “Yesterday was a mistake? She’s sending you love hearts hoping you got rid of me? I feel sick.” The sickness returned, but now it was poison—seething, venomous betrayal.

“Please, listen,” he begged, stepping closer, voice a desperate whisper. “I was going to tell you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” I laughed bitterly, voice breaking. “Look at me! Look at what you’ve done! Sneaking around, lying while you sat beside me, feeding me lies! This isn’t ‘not wanting to hurt me’—it’s cowardice.”

I shoved the phone back onto the table, its screen still lit, glaring like an accu$ing witness.

I didn’t need proof anymore. The betrayal was etched into my mind like a scar.

I looked at him—really looked—and saw a stranger. The man I loved was gone, replaced by a broken liar.

“I can’t do this,” I said, voice steady though my heart shattered. “I can’t live like this. Not with someone who betrays me.”

He opened his mouth, but I stopped him, raising a hand.

“Don’t lie. Don’t try to fix this. It’s broken. You broke it.”

Turning away, I walked to the bedroom, legs trembling but my mind sharp. I dragged my suitcase down from the top shelf. I wouldn’t spend another night under this roof.

Behind me, his pleas echoed—a fading storm of regret and desperation. But I barely heard them anymore.

The cold dread had finally faded, replaced by sharp pain. And beneath it all, a fragile seed of freedom was beginning to take root.

I had seen the truth.

And now I was free to walk away from the darkness he had created.