- 5.
Rain was falling when I left the office. I asked
the receptionist, Lisa, for an umbrella. She pulled me aside, her expression secretive.
“Ms. Brooks,” she whispered, glancing
around, “do you know Ms. Miller’s
Instagram?”
I knew Chloe’s old Instagram handle, but she
hadn’t posted in ages. Lisa showed me her phone. The account, “EthanAndChloe,” had
over a million followers. It was clearly a
couple’s account. The latest post, from
yesterday, read: “Northern Lights trip with Mr.
E!” There were nine photos of Chloe in
Iceland.
Just a week ago, I’d suggested a trip to
Ethan. He’d said he had a business trip and
<
couldn’t get away. I’d asked Chloe to come
along on a girls‘ trip, but she’d claimed she
had to go home to visit family. Had they been.
in Iceland together that whole time?
I thanked Lisa and asked her to keep our
conversation private. Back in my car, I
searched for the account. I scrolled down to
the very first post, from two years ago, right.
after college graduation.
“Beach trip with Mr. E! He knows I love the
ocean.” The photos were of Chloe, some
of which I’d taken myself. Graduation trips.
were all the rage that year. Both Ethan and
Chloe had separately asked me to go on a
trip with them. I’d convinced them to go
together, painstakingly planning a group
itinerary, excited for a fun vacation with my
boyfriend and my best friend. I never
く
imagined that trip was the beginning of their
affair, a secret they kept for two years.
Another post caught my eye: “Mr. E drove all
night from out of state when he heard I was sick!
“The date coincided with my
mother’s passing.
Ethan’s company was in its early stages, and
he was constantly traveling for business. He
was in Chicago when my mother passed away
from cancer. I’d sobbed on the phone,
begging him to come home. He’d said he
couldn’t leave his meetings but promised to
fly back as soon as possible. He didn’t make
it back for her funeral. Yet, the day after my
mother died, Chloe had an emergency
appendectomy. Ethan didn’t wait for a flight
the next day; he had his driver take him
straight to her.
He could have come home. He just chose not
- to. I wasn’t worth it.
Tears blurred my vision. I closed my eyes,
letting them stream down my face, landing on
the phone screen. The pain was unbearable,
like a thousand tiny needles piercing my
heart.
I wiped my face and kept scrolling. “Happy
one year anniversary! Mr. E took me to
Disneyland! He says I’m his forever princess.
The date was last year, on my birthday.
I’d planned a special trip with Ethan, but he’d
canceled at the last minute, claiming a last-
minute client meeting. That “client” was
Chloe.
Another post: “Had a fight with Mr. E today.
Was feeling pretty down, but then he
く
surprised me with 999 roses and a diamond
ring! Guess I’ll forgive him. “The photo
showed their hands intertwined, showcasing
matching diamond rings. I noticed a small mole on the man’s ring finger. Ethan had the
same mole.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I slammed my
phone shut, my head hitting the steering
wheel, accidentally setting off the horn. The
loud blast startled me back to some
semblance of reality. But the realization that
they’d betrayed me for two years was a
crushing weight.
I took a deep breath, started the car, and
drove home. As I neared my apartment, a car
swerved out of nowhere. I jerked the wheel,
narrowly avoiding a collision, but slammed
into a tree.
