Enough.
Truly, enough.
I stood up, no longer willing to look at that nauseating scene of "tender affection," and turned away.
After copying the surveillance footage, Garrett and I went straight to the law firm to submit the evidence and prepare for a final negotiation with Kristoff.
But the moment we stepped out of the building, my phone rang. It was a police friend of mine—he lived next door, so we were fairly familiar.
When I picked up, his tone was oddly hesitant.
"Has Kristoff been... acting strangely lately?"
A heavy sense of dread rose inside me. "Albert, just tell me directly."
He sighed. "A girl at the campsite got hit on—some guy's words were a bit crude. Kristoff went crazy, smashed a bottle over him, and ended up at the station for mediation."
"I can't really explain it properly. I'll just send you the footage from the station."
Moments later, an Instagram notification popped up.
Hands shaking, I opened the video.
On the screen, Aileen was clinging to Kristoff's injured body, tears streaming down her face.
"Kristoff, I've held this in for so long, but I can't anymore—I have to say it today."
"I like you. I really, really like you."
"If it weren't for Elodie barging in, I would've confessed to you first!"
And the moment those words fell, Kristoff cupped her face and kissed her deeply.
Like star-crossed lovers reunited after lifetimes apart, finally baring their hearts to one another.
And I... was reduced to a third party.
Hot tears splattered against my phone screen, my hands trembling so violently I nearly dropped it.
Albert's next message came through. [After mediation, the two of them went to the hotel next door. I'll send you the address.]
Almost at the same time, a message popped up from Kristoff.
[Wife, the project is a bit complicated. I won't be home tonight. Rest early, love you~]
Garrett glanced at my clenched fists, the knuckles white, and spoke carefully.
"Elodie, are you okay? Just say the word—we'll settle this."
I wiped my tears away. The last flicker of warmth in my heart went out, leaving only ice.
"Of course we'll let everyone see exactly what these ‘good friends' get up to in a hotel room."
Kristoff cared most about his pride. So I would rip his face apart for everyone to see.
—
At the hotel entrance.
I opened a livestream. The title: "How Close Can a Husband and His Girl Friend Be?"
A handful of viewers trickled in.
[Another baseless rumor, I bet.]
[Ugh, just let friendships be.]
[Host must be petty as hell.]
Watching the skeptical comments scroll by, I smiled faintly and nodded.
"You're right. I probably overthought things and picked up a fight with my husband's girl best friend for nothing."
"So, I bought her favorite lava-filled cake to apologize."
With Kristoff's ID number, I had the hotel issue me a spare keycard. Then I strode down the hallway, head held high.
The moment I pushed open the door—
The bed was a mess. Kristoff was shirtless, entangled with Aileen.
I lifted my phone toward them, smiling coldly.
"Look, everyone—this is how ‘good friends' are. So close, they share a bed."
