He Cracked After I Exposed His True Colors

My breath caught in my throat, cold and sharp like a blade pressed against my neck. A sense of unreality washed over me as my eyes stayed locked on the screen. At that moment, someone in the group chat mentioned Clark directly:

[You're amazing, bro.]

[When are you going to post a tutorial on this?]

A chill crept down my spine as I clicked on the referenced message. It was Clark's reply to a question from another group member: [Bro, what to do if you feel uninterested in your girlfriend but can't break up with her?]

Clark's answer was casual, almost flippant: [Fake it. I usually keep up the act until after she pops out a kid.]

I scrolled further, my breath hitching as I read another of his replies: [And what to do if you're about to get caught cheating?]

His response was maddeningly indifferent, as if relationships meant nothing to him: [That really depends on how good you are at lying. I'll post a tutorial when I have time.]

His words cut deeper than any knife. They weren't just detached—they were callous, cold and devoid of any genuine feeling. Rage built up inside me, tightening my chest until it hurt to breathe. My fingers trembled as they slid across the phone screen, the motion mechanical and distant, as if they belonged to someone else. Every new message I read added fuel to the fire burning within me.

For a moment, I felt paralyzed. The man I had trusted, the man who had promised me forever, was speaking about our relationship as though it were some elaborate game. Was everything a lie?

I inhaled deeply, forcing down the wave of emotions threatening to consume me. My hands felt numb as I reached for my own phone and began taking pictures of the messages—one by one, carefully capturing every damning word. My heart pounded loudly in my ears, each beat echoing like a warning drum. I was so focused that I barely noticed the distant hum of the elevator.

Ding.

The sound pulled me out of my trance and my head snapped up. My pulse quickened. In this apartment building, each floor had only one unit, meaning the elevator could only be stopping for one person: Clark.

Panic surged through me. I quickly turned off the phone screen and placed it back on the entryway cabinet exactly as I had found it. Forcing my legs to move, I walked calmly back to the sofa and sat down, my mind racing. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat more frantic than the last.

The electronic lock chimed softly, followed by the familiar mechanical voice, "Welcome home, Mr. Hill."

The door swung open and Clark stepped inside. Sweat glistened on his forehead, his breath coming slightly fast as though he had rushed back. His eyes immediately searched the room until they landed on me. There was something almost nervous in his gaze.

I forced a look of mild surprise onto my face and asked, "Why are you back?" My voice sounded calm, but inside, I was anything but.

Clark swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. "Forgot my phone," he said, his tone casual, though I didn't miss the way his eyes flicked toward the entryway cabinet.

I watched him closely, every detail of his body language burned into my mind. As he saw his phone still sitting there, untouched, his shoulders visibly relaxed and he offered me a sheepish smile. Waving the phone lightly, he said, "What a scatterbrain, huh?"

He turned to leave, already slipping his shoes back on. "I'm heading out again, baby."

"Wait."

I got up and walked over to him, raising an eyebrow as I pointed at the phone in his hand. "This isn't the first time you've forgotten your phone. Why'd you rush back? Is there some secret on it?"

Clark chuckled softly, pinching my cheek in that familiar, affectionate way of his. His tone was playful, laced with indulgence and a hint of exasperation. "Here, take it. Check it all you want. You know I have nothing to hide."

I slowly reached out and took the phone from him, hesitating just long enough for him to notice. His smile remained, but there was something unreadable in his eyes.

With deliberate slowness, I entered the unlock password. The screen lit up, but this time, displaying the familiar wallpaper of us—smiling, happy, a picture-perfect couple.

Swiping up, I opened WhatsApp. There it was: his usual account, complete with our picture as his profile photo and our chat pinned at the top. I scrolled through his messages, but everything seemed normal. The group chat I had seen earlier was gone.

My heart sank as confusion clouded my mind. Was I imagining things? No. I had seen it. I had proof—the pictures on my phone. But how was it gone now? Did he have two phones?

I wanted to confront him, to demand answers, but the words caught in my throat, tangled with the rising tide of emotion I could barely contain. Instead, I forced a weak smile and handed the phone back to him. My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Drive safe."

Clark frowned slightly, concern flickering across his features. He reached out, cupping my face in both hands, his thumbs gently brushing my cheeks. "What's wrong, baby? Are you not feeling well?"

I shook my head, biting the inside of my cheek to stop the tears from spilling over. I didn't trust myself to speak. One word and I feared everything would unravel.

Clark sighed, then pulled me into a warm embrace. "Forget it. I'll just stay home and keep you company."

His words, once so comforting, now felt suffocating. I couldn't bear the thought of him staying. Gently, I pushed him back. "Didn't you say there's something urgent at the office? You should go."

He hesitated, his brow furrowing in concern. For a moment, he looked as though he might argue, but then he relented, nodding reluctantly. "Alright. I'll be back as soon as I can."

I watched as he turned and left, his figure lingering in the doorway for a moment before the door closed behind him.

The instant the door clicked shut, my legs gave out and I collapsed onto the floor. A sob tore from my throat, muffled by the sleeve of my robe as I pressed it against my mouth. I couldn't hold it in any longer.