Chapter 2 - The Glowing Screen
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Her name was Isabel. I had learned her name exactly three weeks earlier on a mundane Tuesday evening that shattered my reality into a million jagged pieces. Julian was taking a shower, the hot water running loudly behind the frosted glass door of our master bathroom. His phone, which he usually guarded like a state secret, had been left carelessly on the marble vanity. It illuminated suddenly, buzzing against the hard surface.
I wasn't a snooping wife. For five years of marriage, I had respected his privacy completely. But the screen was facing up, and the harsh glare caught my eye. Two messages flashed across the lock screen in rapid succession, delivered from a number saved simply as 'Isabel - NY Office.'
The first message read:
“I’m still thinking about what you told me in the elevator today. I can't wait for the snow.”
Before my brain could even process the intimate, secretive tone of the words, the second message appeared, twisting the knife deep into my chest.
May you like
“I deleted the pictures. Relax. See you in Aspen.”
I stood frozen on the bathroom mat, the steam curling around me like a suffocating blanket. I could have snatched the phone right then. I could have thrown open the shower door, held the glowing screen up to his wet face, and screamed until my throat bled. I had every right to demand answers, to shatter the peaceful illusion of our evening. But I didn't move. I knew exactly what Julian would do if I confronted him without an ironclad mountain of undeniable proof. He would look at me with wide, innocent eyes and turn the entire situation upside down, making me the villain of the story.
