After My Husband's Betrayal, I Am No Longer His Moon

Every photo oozed a strong, seductive allure.

The most recent selfie was taken at the hotel where Clayton was staying on his business trip tonight.

I hadn’t slept a wink, scrolling through her posts for what felt like hours.

It became clear Odessa’s recent updates were nothing but a blatant flaunt in front of me.

Six months ago, she’d posted: [Came back halfway, my boyfriend almost died of shock, the original plan failed, but he made it up to me the next night at the hotel.]

That incident had nothing to do with a rear-end accident or discussing compensation.

They’d originally planned to fool around at home, but when I showed up, they had to change their plans on the fly.

The following night, Clayton claimed he had to work overtime and stayed out all night.

Three months ago, she posted a picture of a man and a woman holding hands. The man wore a wedding ring that looked strikingly similar to Clayton’s.

[My boyfriend loves me so much. To make it easier for us to meet, he bought me a place in the unit next door! Of course, I had to repay him in bed.]

At the time, Clayton had said he’d left his wedding ring at the office.

It turned out the ring had been left at his lover’s house.

A month ago, she posted a photo taken in a private cinema, the shot only revealing the man’s sexy collarbone.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the red mole on his collarbone—exactly like Clayton’s.

If my memory served me right, that day had been the anniversary of my parents’ death.

Clayton had promised to accompany me to the cemetery, but when he received a phone call, his expression shifted.

"Irene, a client urgently needs my attention. I have to rush over."

But he didn’t go to meet any client.

Instead, he was in the private cinema Odessa had arranged, lost in a moment of romantic bliss.

I cried uncontrollably at the cemetery while he was wrapped in another woman’s arms, his eyes glowing with desire.

I watched all night long, and by the time the first light of dawn broke, I still couldn’t sleep.

I got up to buy some breakfast, my mind foggy, stumbling through the streets. As I walked in a daze, a car came speeding toward me, and at that moment, a strong hand yanked me back.

"Irene," Matias stood there, his face etched with concern. After a brief pause, he spoke, his voice soft but steady.

"You’ve seen all those videos, haven’t you?"

I nodded, silently inviting him to continue.

We sat in a café, Matias’ hands twisting together nervously, his unease palpable.

"Irene," he began, his voice full of regret. "I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but you deserve to know the truth."

I studied him closely.

"But aren’t you Clayton’s closest friend?" I asked, my voice laced with suspicion.

"You two have been inseparable since university, built the family business together... shouldn’t you be helping him cover his tracks?"

I raised an eyebrow, the sarcasm dripping from my words.

"Why would you be willing to tell me all this, Matias?"

Clayton had trusted him completely, never hiding anything, even when he was with his lover, oblivious to Matias watching.

Matias froze for a moment, his lips curling into a bitter smile.

"I didn’t think you’d still be in the dark after all these years."

His gaze shifted upward, locking with mine, a strange intensity behind his eyes.

"Irene," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "because I like you."

I froze; my breath caught in my throat.

His voice was gentle but held a weight and he continued, "Irene, all these years, my friendship with Clayton was because of you."

A small, rueful smile tugged at his lips as he added, "I even liked you before he did."

Matias, Clayton, and I had known each other since university, and Clayton and I had fallen in love at first sight. In what felt like the blink of an eye, we had become a couple, a love story that spanned from campus to marriage for eight years.

But Matias, Matias had never once dated anyone.

Everyone around us had whispered, joked even, about his “unusual” orientation, but he had always stayed distant, refusing to get close to any woman.

"See? I’m an actor, Irene. No one ever figured it out, did they?"

He lowered his eyes, a self-deprecating smile curving his lips as if to laugh at his own hidden truth.