My Husband Cheated on Me, And His Girlfriend Murdered Me

As dinner time rolled around, we wrapped up our catch-up with Roxanne and headed home. Roxanne gave me a tight hug before we parted ways, whispering, “Call me if anything happens, okay?”

I forced a smile, trying not to let her see how anxI felt. I nodded, hoping to reassure her.

The drive back home was quiet. We both seemed lost in our thoughts. I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at me. Finally, I decided to voice my concerns.

“So... she’s your ex?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I was trying hard to keep my tone calm and collected. Garet glanced over at me and nodded. “Yes.”

His straightforwardness was both comforting and disconcerting. I appreciated his honesty, but knowing Jane was his ex stirred up a mix of emotions in me. It was unsettling, even though nothing had happened between them recently.

“Don’t worry,” Garet said, trying to soothe me. “What’s in the past is in the past. We’re married now, and that’s what matters.”

I looked into his brown eyes, feeling the familiar warmth of his gaze. I held his hand, forcing a smile, and told myself that his love for me was strong and unchanging. Time would tell, but for now, I had to trust in what we had.

Days turned into weeks, and life settled back into its usual routine. We were both buried in work, barely seeing each other except for a few hours each week. The worry about Jane faded into the background. Even if she was Garet’s past, I was his present and future—at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

One day, as I was tidying up the room and gathering dirty laundry, I came across Garet’s t-shirts. We had a helper who took care of most of the housework, but I still liked to do small chores myself. As I picked up his clothes, I noticed something odd. There was a faint, unfamiliar scent on his t-shirt.

It was subtle, but it made me pause. I couldn’t quite place it, and it caused a small, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I thought it was just a weird coincidence and shrugged it off. The scent could easily be from his clients or colleagues; he interacted with so many people every day.

But then, another odd thing happened. I was finishing up a night shift at the hospital when I saw him in the corridor.

“Garet? What are you doing here?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“I’m here to pick you up,” he replied casually.

It was unusual for him to come to the hospital, let alone pick me up. It was a nice surprise, and I felt a wave of happiness. “Great! I’ll just tidy up a bit. Wait here!” I said, heading to my office to grab my things. My shift had ended, so I was ready to go.

When I came back out, though, there was no sign of him. I called his phone, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried calling repeatedly, but there was no answer. I figured maybe he was in the restroom or had to step away briefly, so I waited for about ten minutes. I even asked a colleague to check the restroom, but he wasn’t there.

Puzzled, I went to check the parking lot, thinking maybe he was waiting for me there. I roamed around the vast parking area for almost an hour, but he was nowhere to be found. Growing increasingly anxious, I ended up ordering a taxi to head home, assuming he might have gone back without me.

When I got home, there was no sign of him. My worry turned to panic. Had he disappeared? Or was I just too tired and imagining things? I texted Bernard, Garet’s work partner and best buddy, to see if he knew where Garet was.

Bernard’s reply came back quickly, which read, [No, he left the site a few hours ago.]

I asked if he could try contacting Garet, but Bernard told me he couldn’t reach him either. Apparently, Garet’s phone was dead, which wasn’t typical of him. This only added to my growing anxiety. What was going on?

I was fraught with worry over Garet’s sudden disappearance. Desperate to calm myself, I took a long, soothing shower and tried to wash away the anxiety that had built up. Afterward, I checked my phone again, hoping for a missed call or message, but there was nothing. The clock was inching closer to midnight, and the fear that something might have happened to him was overwhelming.

I decided to call Roxanne, hoping she might still be awake and able to offer some support. When she answered, her voice was groggy and a bit irritated. “Hello? Livy, why are you calling me so late?” she mumbled.

I quickly explained the situation, my voice trembling. There was a long pause on the other end. “Hello? Roxanne, are you still there?” I asked, my heart racing.

“Yeah, I’m here,” she finally responded, sounding more alert. “I’m just thinking. Garet’s been with the police for years, right? He’ll be fine. Don’t panic. I think you should try to get some sleep. We can come up with a plan if he’s still missing in the morning. You need rest, okay?”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Alright, I’ll talk to you in the morning. I’m sorry for calling so late.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just try to stay positive. I’m sure he’s okay,” she said with a reassuring tone. Her confidence helped soothe my nerves a bit.

After thanking her, I ended the call and tried my best to get some sleep. I tossed and turned for hours, unable to shake the anxiety that clung to me. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and I managed to drift off.

My alarm blared at 6 am, jolting me awake. I had only slept for a few hours, and my body felt heavy and broken. I quickly rubbed the sleep from my eyes and grabbed my phone, praying for a message or call that might reassure me.

There it was—the long-awaited message from Garet. He had replied just an hour ago, explaining that his colleague had called him for something urgent the previous night. After the call, his phone died, and he got caught up in some casework back at the office. He must have fallen asleep there and completely forgot about his dead phone.

I was a mix of relieved and annoyed. It was totally unlike Garet to worry me like this. He was usually so reliable and considerate. I called him right away, and he picked up after a few rings.

“Garet, where were you? I was freaking out, trying to reach you and even contacted your friends!” I started, my voice tinged with frustration.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, his baritone voice sounding genuinely tired. “It was an urgent situation. I promise it won’t happen again.”

His fatigue softened my anger a bit. “When are you coming home? I’ll make you some soup,” I offered, trying to shift the focus to something more caring.

“Maybe around noon,” he replied. “Aren’t you working today?”

“No, I’m taking the day off,” I said. “I’m exhausted from all the stress last night.”

There was a brief silence before he responded, “Okay, I’ll see you around then.”

After ending the call, I quickly sent messages to Roxanne and Bernard to let them know Garet was okay and reassure them that everything was fine. With that settled, I fell back onto the bed, pulled the covers over me, and tried to get a bit more sleep.

***

Garet's voice echoed, "Goodbye, Livy. I’m sorry, but we can’t be together," as he let go of my hand. Next to him stood Jane, her smile warm and sweet, her big eyes and rosy cheeks glowing. I felt myself dangling over a cliff, desperately clinging to Garet's hand. But then, he pulled away, letting me plummet into the dark abyss below. I screamed, but my voice was swallowed by the void.

Just as I was about to hit the bottom, the ground began to tremble and buzz uncontrollably. I shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, my heart racing. It took a moment to realize it was just another alarm I had set. What a nightmare! The sensation of falling felt so vivid and terrifying. I chalked it up to being overly tired and stressed from everything going on lately.

I stumbled out of bed, washed my face, and headed to the kitchen. I needed to distract myself. I opened the fridge and checked the ingredients for the soup. Everything was in place. I started washing and chopping vegetables, preparing the seasoning for Garet’s favorite potato and vegetable soup. It was a simple dish, but it had been a comforting staple for us, especially with the special recipe my mom had passed down.

By noon, the soup was simmering on the stove, and I was just about to set the table when my phone buzzed with a new message. I picked it up, and my heart sank as I read the text.