There was Jake, my Jake, welcoming a woman at our doorstep. She wasn’t just any woman—she was laughing, handing him a bottle of wine. My heart plummeted. I kept scrolling. On different days, different women appeared, one even bringing a stack of movies.
Every time I was away, it seemed, Jake had company. Different women, each visit documented clearly by the camera he had installed, ironically, for our safety.
Frozen, the tablet slipped from my grip. How could he betray me? When had our shared life turned into this deceit? Tears clouded my vision, each recorded clip a dagger to my heart. The trust I had placed in him, the love I thought we shared—had it all been one-sided?
With every shared laugh, every exchanged bottle of wine, the apartment seemed to contract, the walls pressing in. I had cherished this place, our life together, but now every corner echoed betrayal.
Nausea overwhelmed me, a lump forming in my throat as the harsh reality sank in. This was no mere mistake or misunderstanding; it was a deliberate, ongoing betrayal. Anger surged through me, mingling with my grief.
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