Maggie's POV
“Wait, did Brigham actually agree to let you leave? He’s never been the type to let you out of his sight,” she asked, doubting.
I forced myself to answer, my throat tight. “He’s cheating. Right now, he’s in San Francisco with her.”
Eyes widened, she shrieked, “What the hell?!”
Normally, it would’ve taken my best friend thirty minutes to get to my place, but this time she showed up in ten.
She sat down beside me, worry etched on her face, and patted my shoulder. “Are you sure?”
I gave a bitter laugh, pulled out my phone, and laid out all the evidence I had collected.
“God, that bastard Brigham. How dare he? He’s been acting all high and mighty, like some perfect husband.”
Before I could say anything, she was already tugging me to my feet. “Come on. First stop, the hospital. We need to make sure you didn’t catch some disgusting disease from him.”
Her words made my eyelid twitch. Without another word, I grabbed my things and followed her straight to the hospital.
The wait for the results felt endless. All I could do was piece together the timeline of his betrayal.
The first month of our marriage, they met. He played the hero, saving her from some “danger,” and she fell for him instantly.
[I couldn't believe the 'love at first sight' I only watched on drama would happen to me!] she posted.
By the third month, his mother was pressuring us to start trying for a baby. Meanwhile, I was crushed after being diagnosed with blocked fallopian tubes. That was when he accepted her confession.
[Persistence finally pays off! There’s really no man I can’t win over. I’m so happy!]
The fourth month, while I was lying on a cold operating table for a fallopian tube procedure, Brigham claimed he was on a business trip. In reality, he flew abroad with her for a “honeymoon.”
[Happiness is having the one you love by your side.]
The post was complete with a photo of them holding hands.
I thought back to when we first got together in college. He had always been so shy. Whenever I tried to hold his hand in public, he would brush me off.
“What if someone sees?” he panickingly asked.
Chuckling, I answered, “Come on, we’re in college already. It’s not like we’re kids sneaking around.”
No matter how much I pouted or begged, he refused to show affection in front of others. Posting a photo of us holding hands online was out of the question.
“Our love doesn’t need to be put on display,” he would say.
When the hospital results finally came out, everything was clear. I was healthy. I exhaled in relief and boarded a plane to San Francisco with my best friend.
Mid-flight, the private investigator I’d hired sent me a video.
Brigham and the other woman were strolling through different tourist spots, chatting, laughing, and sticking close to each other like a real couple.
“They’re disgusting. Playing house like they’re married,” my best friend spat, furious on my behalf.
I just stared blankly at the photos. My voice came out soft, almost fragile. “Do you think Brigham ever really loved me?”
I hated myself for being so pathetic, still hung up on that question.
Then, another message came in from the investigator reporting that the two of them had booked a room at a resort for tonight.
As if on cue, Brigham’s name lit up on my screen. He called, over and over, but I declined every time until he finally gave up and sent a message instead.
[Honey, why aren’t you answering? I’ve run into some issues and might need to stay a few extra days.]
That was when the ignored details came rushing back. Maybe he did love me. But he loved her more.
Whenever it came down to a choice, he always picked her without hesitation.
His heart had already shifted long ago, and I’d been too blind to see it.
The thought made my chest ache so badly that I could barely breathe. I hated him for stringing me along with scraps of affection, just enough to keep me hooked.
My best friend, on the other hand, wrapped an arm around me, cursing nonstop. “That bastard’s going to rot in hell!”
When we landed, we headed straight for the resort, and the moment I saw it, my heart twisted. This was the same place where Brigham and I had spent our honeymoon.
Not far away, I could hear the woman’s voice, sulking playfully.
“I’m jealous. Your first time here wasn’t with me.”
The hotel receptionist gave them a curious look as she pouted and leaned into his arms while he just smiled indulgently, pressing a kiss on her forehead.
