I Played Their Affair at His Family Party

I went back to work on Monday.

Nora looked up when I walked into the office. She had that expression — the one where she's trying to figure out if she should ask. I set my bag down. Opened my laptop. Started sorting through emails.

"You okay?" she said finally.

I nodded. "Fine."

She didn't believe me. But she didn't push. She just slid a coffee across the desk and went back to her screen.

I worked through lunch. Stayed late. Came home to an empty apartment and made dinner I didn't eat. Then I sat on the couch with my phone and scrolled through Brady's texts.

"Miss you."

"Thinking about you."

"Can't wait to see you this week 🖤."

I typed back: "Miss you too. Soon 💕."

I hit send. Put the phone down. Stared at the wall.

It was easy. That was the part that surprised me. Pretending. Smiling. Typing the words he wanted to hear. I thought it would feel hard. Like swallowing glass. But it didn't. It just felt like nothing.

On Wednesday, Goldie texted.

"Miss you babe!! We need to catch up soon 💗."

I stared at the message for a full minute. Then I typed: "Coffee tomorrow? 3pm?"

She sent back three heart emojis.

I met her at the place we always went. The corner table by the window. She was already there when I arrived. Smiling. Waving. Wearing a sweater I'd never seen before.

"Elaina!" She stood up and hugged me. Her perfume was different. Something expensive. Something new.

I hugged her back. Sat down. Ordered my usual.

"So," she said, leaning forward. "Tell me everything. How's Brady?"

I smiled. "Good. Busy."

"He's always busy." She rolled her eyes. "Men."

I nodded. Took a sip of coffee. Held the cup with both hands.

She talked for an hour. About work. About some guy who DMed her on Instagram. About a trip she was planning. She laughed a lot. Touched my arm twice. Asked if I was okay three times.

I said I was fine.

I watched her mouth move. Watched her eyes. Watched the way she tilted her head when she lied. Because she was lying. The whole time. Every word.

And I just sat there. Smiling. Nodding. Asking follow-up questions.

When we left, she hugged me again. "Love you," she said.

"Love you too," I said.

I drove home. Parked in my spot. Sat in the car for ten minutes with my hands on the wheel.

Then I went inside. Opened my laptop. Checked the files one more time.

Forty-three matches. All backed up. All labeled.

I closed the laptop. Went to bed.

I didn't cry.

On Saturday morning, I woke up at six. Showered. Dried my hair. Stood in front of my closet for a long time.

I pulled out the black dress. The one I bought two years ago and never wore because Brady said it was too severe. Too much. He liked me in soft colors. Pastels. Things that made me look sweet.

I put on the black dress.

It fit perfectly. Sharp lines. No softness. I looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself.

I liked it.

I did my makeup carefully. Not the way Brady liked. The way I liked. Dark eyes. Clean lines. Nothing sweet about it.

Then I sat on the edge of my bed and went through the files one last time. Every video. Every screenshot. Every timestamp.

I checked my phone. Full battery. I'd charged it twice just to be sure.

I opened the notes app. Read through the instructions I'd written for connecting to the venue's AV system. I'd called the estate earlier in the week. Pretended I was coordinating with the event planner. Asked about the setup. The screens. The adapters.

They told me everything.

I put the phone in my bag. Checked that the charging cable was there. The adapter. The backup drive.

Everything I needed.

I stood up. Looked at myself in the mirror one more time.

I didn't look scared. I didn't look angry. I just looked ready.

I picked up my keys. Walked to the car. Got in.

The drive to Connecticut was two hours. I rolled the windows down. Didn't turn on the radio. Just drove in silence with the cold air on my face.

I thought about Brady. About the way he used to hold my hand in public. The way he'd kiss my forehead when he thought no one was looking. The way he said my name when he was half asleep.

I thought about Goldie. About the sleepovers when we were kids. The way she used to braid my hair. The way she cried on my shoulder when her mom got sick. The way she said I was the only person who really knew her.

I thought about all of it. Let myself feel it. The weight of five years and twenty years and every single promise that turned out to be a lie.

Then I let it go.

By the time I pulled up to the Hoffman estate, I felt nothing.

The driveway was already full. Expensive cars lined up in neat rows. Valets in black vests directing traffic. String lights wrapped around the trees.

I parked at the end of the row. Turned off the engine. Sat for a moment.

Then I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. Smoothed my hair. Picked up my bag.

I got out of the car.

The front door was open. Music drifted out. Laughter. The sound of glasses clinking.

I walked up the steps. Took a breath.

And I went inside.