Since Bruce and I got together, I'd always had free access to his phone.
But because I trusted him, I never felt the need to snoop.
I glanced at his phone, seeing the screen light up with a notification, and suddenly a thought crossed my mind.
I knew Bruce's lock screen password, but even without unlocking it, I could see the message preview.
It was a WhatsApp message from someone who seemed to be a dealer of some kind.
[Hey, did you receive the package? If you ever need more, just let me know. I'll give you a discount next time. Also, be careful with that stuff—just a little goes a long way. Too much, and it could be lethal.]
Reading that message felt like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless.
I was about to check what exactly Bruce had ordered when his voice suddenly sounded from behind me.
"Honey, dinner's ready. I made your favorite—braised short ribs and spaghetti."
I dragged myself to the dining table.
Looking at the gleaming, oily dishes laid out before me, I had no appetite at all.
Bruce frowned in concern and asked, "Sweetheart, are you feeling unwell? If you're not feeling good, you must tell me. Don't push yourself."
I shook my head slowly.
"Bruce, I'm not unwell. I just filled up on the snacks you bought earlier and can't eat any more."
Bruce looked both upset and a bit guilty.
"I knew I shouldn't have bought you so many junk foods. They're unhealthy, and if you eat too much, it could upset your stomach."
I watched him continue his performance, my heart growing colder with each word.
Yes, the outside food might be unclean and could upset my stomach if I ate too much.
But the food at home? That could kill me.
