Love Lost, Found Again

I suddenly burst into laughter, and seeing Yusuf relax as soon as I started made it all feel so absurd. He joined in with a soft chuckle, leaned closer to me, and said:

"Sweetheart, I'm starving."

Just as he was about to lean in for a kiss, his phone rang. His expression faltered for a second before he quickly composed himself. He touched my belly gently through the covers and gave it a light kiss, saying:

"Don't bother mommy, daddy's got to go make some money for us all."

I grasped his arm, holding onto a last shred of hope, and softly asked, "I’m not feeling well, can’t you stay?"

Yusuf hesitated for a moment, then gently pulled my hand up to his lips, giving it a tender kiss.

"There’s something urgent at the university. They can’t handle it without me."

I searched his eyes, looking for any hint of regret. But there was none.

Yusuf hurriedly put on his coat and rushed out the door, leaving his phone behind in his haste. I knew all his passwords—he never kept secrets from me, so I never felt the need to check his phone.

Out of curiosity, I opened his WhatsApp, finding nothing at first, which made me breathe a small sigh of relief. But then, going against my better judgment, I tapped on the option to switch accounts.

I had never seen this number before. Intrigued, I clicked on it, and there was only one contact—another girl.

Their conversations went back a year and a half. I scrolled through their messages, my hands trembling, one screen after another. Every day, almost without fail.

"There are fireworks tonight for the holiday; want me to pick you up to see them?"

That was during Thanksgiving, when I thought he was working late, so I busied myself preparing a fancy dinner.

"The maid outfit looks great on you; next time I’ll get you something else."

On my birthday, I waited until 2 a.m. for him. Yusuf had come back, drenched in sweat, claiming he rushed back to celebrate with me. I didn’t blame him at all and even threw myself into his arms, but he pushed me away that night.

Now, I finally understood—

He had been with someone else just before coming home to me.

Lost in my thoughts, my phone suddenly buzzed with a friend request. It was from that girl. As soon as I accepted it, two messages popped up.

"I'm scared, professor."

Attached was a picture of a kitchen, messy and soot-blackened.

She retracted the message within the two-minute window, pretending nothing had happened.

Yet, on her social media feed, there was Yusuf again. The kitchen, once chaotic, was now spotless, and there was Yusuf, in his coat, cooking for her.

I dashed into the bathroom and started vomiting, the bile burning my throat. It felt like I was trying to purge every meal he'd ever made for me.

Inside, I felt hollow, a gaping void where my heart used to be, filled with an icy wind.

Yusuf never came home that night.