Jake, her Jake, greeted a woman at their door. Not just any woman—this one was laughing as she handed him a bottle of wine. Her heart sank. She scrolled further. Another day, another woman, this one carrying a stack of movies.
Every time she was away, it seemed, Jake had company. Different women, each visit documented clearly by the camera he had installed, ironically, for their safety.
She sat frozen, the tablet dropping to her lap. Her mind raced. How could he? When had their life together turned into this charade? Tears blurred her vision, each clip on the camera a stab to her heart. The trust she’d placed in him, the love she’d nurtured—were they all just one-sided? Was she the only one in this?
With each woman’s laugh, each shared bottle of wine, it felt as though the apartment shrank, the walls closing in on her. She’d loved this space, their shared life, but now each room screamed of betrayal.
She felt nauseous, a lump forming in her throat as the reality settled like lead in her stomach. This wasn’t just a simple mistake or a misunderstanding. It was a deliberate, repeated betrayal. Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms.
Rage mingled with her sorrow, heating her tears as they streamed down her face. She had to confront him, to demand answers. But first, she needed to compose herself, to gather the shattered pieces of her dignity. She couldn’t let him see her broken.
She had to be strong, for her own sake. The love she thought they had was gone, and in its place was a cold, hard anger. Jake had some serious explaining to do, and she was going to make sure she got it.
When Jake returned, the apartment was silent, the tension as thick as fog. She sat at the kitchen table, the images from the door camera looping in her mind. He greeted her with his usual casual smile, oblivious to the storm inside her.
“Hey, Em. Missed you,” he said, hanging up his coat.
She didn’t return the smile. “We need to talk.”
Jake’s smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”
She held up the tablet, showing a pause on a frame of him with one of the women. “Care to explain this?”
Jake glanced at the screen, then shrugged, his posture relaxed. “Emily, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. They’re just friends.”
“Friends?” she snapped. “Different women, each time I’m away? Really, Jake?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Em, you’re being paranoid. These women mean nothing.”
“Nothing?” Her voice rose, anger searing through her calm façade. “How can you say that?”
Jake’s tone hardened. “I bring a lot to this relationship. You really want to throw this away over some insecurity?”
That was it. His dismissal, his arrogance—it crystallized everything she felt. “It’s not insecurity when I have evidence, Jake. I can’t do this. I won’t marry someone who thinks so little of me.”
Jake’s face tightened, the arrogance slipping into shock. “You’re serious? Over some nonsense?”
“Yes,” she said, firm and clear. “I’m done. We’re done.”
He stared at her, then without another word, grabbed his coat and left. The door slammed shut behind him, and just like that, it was over.
After a few moments alone, gathering her thoughts, she picked up her phone and dialed the pizza place. Tom answered.
“Tom, it’s Emily. I… I wanted to say thank you. You were right about Jake.”
There was a pause on the line. “I’m really sorry, Emily. I thought you should know.”
