Love Doesn't Live Here, It's Just Lies

The headline caught my eye the next morning before I even realized what I was looking at.

"Alan Longwill and model Alyssa Russon spotted in New York, sparks flying in the city."

I sat frozen, staring at my phone screen as if it had betrayed me. There they were, Alan and his woman, dressed to perfection, glowing as if the world revolved around them. They stood close, smiling at each other with an intimacy that turned my stomach.

The photos were everywhere. Alyssa's hand on his chest, his arm around her waist. And in one of them, they were kissing, intimate and completely unbothered by whoever was watching, and to think he told me he was on a business trip. This wasn't business. New York wasn't a work trip. It was a date.

I scrolled further, my hands trembling as I read the article. The words painted a nauseating picture of their chemistry, their "undeniable connection." Each sentence felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest.

I dropped my phone onto the couch as my vision blurred. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. The betrayal I had convinced myself wasn't real was now staring me in the face, undeniable and merciless.

But then, I thought of my baby, I rested my hand gently on my stomach, closing my eyes as I took a slow, deep breath. This life growing inside me, so innocent, so pure, didn't deserve to be tainted by my pain. It didn't matter how shattered I felt. This baby was a blessing, a light in the darkness, and I would cherish it no matter what.

I had to be strong. Not for myself, but for my child. And that's why I decided to go to the hospital.

***

The sterile scent of the clinic didn't calm my nerves, but the warmth of the doctor's smile did. As the ultrasound wand glided over my stomach, the rhythmic flicker of the baby's heartbeat filled the room.

"Everything looks perfect," the doctor said, pointing to the screen. "You're carrying a healthy baby."

Tears welled up in my eyes, but this time, they weren't from sadness. Relief washed over me, soft and warm, breaking through the layers of hurt. For the first time in weeks, I felt something other than pain. I felt hope.

After leaving the hospital, I made my way to Silverant Systems LLC, Alan's company. I clutched the resignation letter tightly in my hand. I stopped a passing employee and asked, "Is Mr. Longwill in his office?"

"Yes, ma'am, but you can't go in right now," she said, her tone nervous.

"Why not? You know I'm his wife," I said firmly, narrowing my eyes.

The woman hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. "Mr. Longwill has an important visitor, and he doesn't want to be disturbed."

I blinked, stunned. "An important visitor? Who?"

She avoided my gaze, her voice faltering. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't say."

My chest tightened, anger simmering beneath my shock. He hadn't even told me he was back

"I'm sorry, ma'am. He left strict instructions," she said finally.

I clenched my jaw and nodded, forcing myself to appear calm. "Fine," I said, my voice clipped.

I waited until she walked away before slipping into the hallway leading to Alan's office.

The door was slightly ajar, and I hesitated for a brief moment, my heart pounding. A part of me knew I shouldn't look, that whatever I saw would only hurt me more, but curiosity and pain pushed me forward. I peeked inside, and the air was knocked out of me.

Alan stood by his desk, and Alyssa was in his arms. They were kissing, completely oblivious to the world around them. The way his hand rested on her waist, the way her smile melted into his, it was as if nothing else mattered.

I wanted to storm in, to scream, to shatter the perfect little bubble they had created for themselves. But I didn't. I reached for my phone with trembling hands and I snapped a photo, the camera capturing the exact moment Alyssa looked up at him with that same sickening smile I'd seen in the New York pictures.

I turned my back and left the resignation letter on my desk for him to see once I was gone. Then I walked back to my car. Once inside, I stared at the photo and sent it directly to Mr. Benson, Alyssa's agency director. He needed to see this.

Back home, I packed everything Alan had given me over the past five years and carried the boxes downstairs. I lit the fire and burned them all to ashes.

As I watched the flames roar to life, I felt the knot in my chest loosen, just slightly. Every necklace and every gift he had given me was so much less than what he gave her.

All of it, gone.

As I sat back and watched it burn, my phone buzzed on the ground beside me.

It was a notification that Mr. Benson had seen the photo.