And then, I saw it.
There was Jake, greeting a woman at our doorstep—not just any woman, but one who laughed as she handed him a bottle of wine. My heart sank. I scrolled further; another day, another woman, this one with a stack of movies.
It appeared that whenever I was absent, Jake had visitors. Different women, each visit clearly recorded by the very camera he installed for our “security.”
I was paralyzed, the tablet slipping from my hands onto my lap. How could he? When did our shared life become this facade? Tears clouded my vision as each video clip felt like a betrayal, puncturing the trust and love I had fostered—was it all one-sided?
With every shared laugh and bottle of wine, the apartment seemed to constrict around me, the walls echoing the deceit. I felt sick, a heavy realization settling in. This wasn’t a simple error or a misunderstanding; it was a deliberate, repeated betrayal.
