Every dramatic story she’d ever dismissed came rushing back—late nights, secret smiles, a second life hidden behind routine. She felt foolish for trusting so easily, for believing love could really be uncomplicated.
With shaking hands, she dialed the first number.
A warm, familiar voice answered.
“Hello, sweetheart?”
It was his mother.
Her knees nearly buckled. Flustered and embarrassed, she muttered an excuse and hung up.
Still breathing hard, she dialed the second contact.
Her sister-in-law answered, laughing about a ruined dinner and asking how her day had been.
