Gordo

ars. The photo on her phone burned into my retinas. My Cameron. The man I had loved fo

e yet." His frequent overseas "business trips," always so vague about the details. "Client meetings," he would say, "critical negotiations." I had

llowed by a crushing wave of humiliation. I

h the fog of my shock. She reached for my hand

eavy. The apartment felt suffocating. I needed air.

r," I mumbled, stumb

wnstairs. We need to go anyway. The Zenith Tower. We have to confron

harsh, the city noise overwhelming. As we waited for a taxi, a wave of naus

Kennedy asked, her voi

o the pristine urban landscaping. Tears streamed down my face, hot and stinging, mixing with the sweat on my forehead. It w

my back. "Oh my God, Kacy! Are you okay? Y

ak, still heaving. The metalli

a tissue from her purse. "You're rea

ill trembling, brushed against my purse strap.

y, planning to tell Cameron

d blamed stress, a busy work schedule. But a visit to the docto

going to tell him tonight, over that romantic dinner. He would be thrilled, I thought. We would start a family. Now,

would live a lie. I wo

f I could keep it-o

nto her worried eyes, a desperate plea forming in my t

my voice hoarse,

he waiting taxi. Her focus was entirely on her mission. "We can't let that bastard

e back seat. "Come on

ng the "other woman"-it all surged to the surface. I needed to confess. I n

d. "What is it, Kacy? We're almost

uld I say it? How could I tell my best friend that her pain was my pain, that her betrayer was mi

en. The cab sped toward the tower. Each