Her Fake Affair Was Real Enough To Convince Me

Their conversation continued, each line slicing through my chest like a knife.

[Can we go deeper next time?]

[She’s a bit wary, hard to deal with.]

[Drug her. Once she’s out, anything goes.]

[Fine, but it'll cost more.]

My entire body froze. At that moment, I could hear nothing but the pounding of my own heart. Each beat slammed against my eardrums like war drums.

They were planning to drug her.

Pricing her and arranging “services” like she was livestock.

My fists clenched tightly, knuckles bone-white, breath growing short and uneven.

They spoke so casually, so disgustingly, like she was just a product, a throwaway object.

But she was my wife.

Her smile, the way she slept, the perfume she wore after showering, the gentle curve of her lips whenever she whispered “good night.” And now, they had reduced her to a transaction.

The messages didn’t stop.

The one who posted the photo sent another update. [There’s a party at the hotel tonight, drinks and karaoke. She’ll definitely show up.]

[Use her friend’s name to invite her. Say it’s to relax after the stress lately.]

[Don’t forget the drugs. No screw-ups.]

I could barely stand.

Tonight. A party. Drugs.

She had no idea.

I couldn’t just stand by and let it happen.

Like a madman, I tore into the bedroom. Empty.

Her bag and phone were gone.

I darted to the bathroom, the balcony, and the kitchen, but there was no sign of her.

She had already left.

When? Where to?

My eyes locked on the words glowing on the screen. [She’ll definitely show up.]

Would she really go? Did she know?

I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t.

But one thing burned clear in my mind: I had to stop them.

Now. Right now.

I dialed her number. No answer.

Tried again. And again. Straight to voicemail.

Leaning against the doorframe, my mind spun, hollow and weightless.

Outside, the city lights pulsed, neon, traffic, voices, all of it distant, unreal.

Then I remembered.

Last year, on a whim before a business trip, I had secretly installed a tracking app on her phone.

She never found out.

With trembling fingers, I grabbed my phone and launched the app.

A red dot blinked into view.

It moved, then stilled, right in the city center, near a hotel.

At that moment, it felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

My entire body shuddered.

I couldn’t remember how I got downstairs or how I even started the car.

The night wind slapped against my face as I floored the gas, skimming past red lights.

The GPS route felt like a steel wire tightening around my nerves.

Twenty minutes later, I reached the hotel.

Even before I fully stopped the car, I saw her.

She was wearing that white dress, so familiar it hurt to look at.

Her arm was looped around the arm of a strange man standing at the lobby entrance.

She was smiling, resting her head on his shoulder, whispering something softly.

They walked into the lobby together, perfectly in sync like a couple.

My fingers clenched the steering wheel, knuckles white, joints creaking.

My heart slammed wildly in my chest, blow after blow pounding in my ears.

At that moment, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.

She was gone.

We were finished.

The fury inside me roared to life, like wildfire consuming everything in its path, reducing my world to ashes and mockery.

I flung the door open and stormed out. My shoes scraped the curb. I didn’t even feel it.

I ran toward the hotel like a madman, throat burning, my eyes locked on their backs.

But before I could reach the entrance, something struck the back of my head.

A sharp, searing pain shot through me.

Darkness swallowed my vision.

Before I could even cry out, the world vanished.