ie

eft for work, kissing my forehead, oblivious to the chasm that had opened beneath my feet. I sat alone in

al blow. My stomach twisted. How could I have been so blind? So naive?

n't tear my eyes from. I scrolled through the videos, a sick compulsion driving me. My gaze snagged on the chat log, scrol

, undeniable, irrefutable. My mind, usually focused on harmonious color palette

in today," I managed to say, m

rumbling. My hands, still shaking, pulled up the anonymous email again. Who sent it

s, his movements, the way he tossed his head. Every detail screamed him. The sick irony was not lost on me – I was an interior designer, t

wasn't just the betrayal of Damon. It was the crushing weight of the 'why

to read, to do anything, but the images from "The Den" were burned into my retina. I couldn't escape

er than the dread, pierced through me. If this was Damon, who was the woman? She was always m

aid of honor, my best friend since kindergarten. "Hey! Wedding

ion, but in my current state, every word felt loaded with hidden meaning. I suddenly saw Katina' s innocent face, her bright eyes, h

e tight. "Listen, can you... can yo

d a sympathetic smile on her face. "Girl, you look like you've seen a ghost," she sai

on me," I blurted out, the

ay! Damon? He adores you, Ellie. That's absurd!" She shook her

tle tightening around her mouth, a flicker in her eyes that vanished as quickly as it appeared. A new, terrify

line." I hesitated, wanting to show her, needing her validation, but fea

ou. He just told me how excited he is." She paused, then added casually, "He's even been working extra

about property, about our new home. My head spun. The wine, or the shock, was m

l perfectly innocent. I walked to the bedroom, the weight of her presence, her 'concern,' pressing down on me. I fe