Part 2

Tyler texted me when he got home.

At 9:18, my phone buzzed.

“Home safe. Miss you already.”

At 9:26, it buzzed again.

A friend request.

Her name was Avery. I nearly ignored it until I saw her message.

“I’m sorry to message you like this, but I saw your comment on Tyler’s cousin’s post. I think you deserve to know who you’re really dating.”

My thumb froze.

Before I could respond, another message appeared.

It was a screenshot of the photo I had deleted earlier that day.

Tyler beside the car. His jacket. His shoulder. His almost-hidden face.

I sat on the edge of my bed.

“Where did you get that?” I typed.

Avery replied immediately.

“My friend Rio saw it before it disappeared. Tyler told me he was at a work retreat this weekend.”

My mouth went dry.

“Who are you to Tyler?”

The typing dots appeared.

Stopped.

Then appeared again.

“His fiancée. We’ve been together six years. I’ve been working abroad for a little over three years, but I come home in two weeks. Our wedding is in three months.”

I did not cry.

Not then.

I stared at the clothes I had worn for him, beside him, hidden with him.

Then I typed one word.

“Proof.”

Avery did not act insulted. She did not argue.

She sent proof.

The first picture was from an engagement dinner. Tyler stood beside Avery, surrounded by both families raising glasses.

“When was this?” I typed.

“Almost three years ago,” Avery replied. “Right before I left for my overseas contract.”

The second image was a draft of a wedding invitation.

Tyler and Avery.

Three months away.

I stared at the date until the numbers blurred.

Then the third photo arrived. Tyler in a suit, smiling beside Avery’s parents like he had not spent years making me believe I was his only future.

“Kim?” Avery messaged. “Are you still there?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize yet,” I typed. “I’m still hoping you’re a very committed prankster with excellent graphic design.”

Avery sent another picture.

That one ended the joke.

Tyler was wearing the silver watch I had bought him for his birthday.

I pressed my hand against my mouth.

I had saved for six weeks to buy that watch, packing lunches and skipping small treats because I wanted him to have something nice.

When I gave it to him, he kissed my forehead and said, “You always know how to make me feel seen.”

Avery’s next message came through.

“He told me the watch was from a client. Was it from you?”

A sound escaped me that almost became a laugh.

Then I pressed the call button.

She answered on the first ring. “Kim?”

“Tell me you didn’t know about me. I had no clue about you.”

“I didn’t,” she whispered. “I swear I didn’t.”

“How long have you been away?”

“A little over three years. We were together two years before that. I came home for short visits, but Tyler always had everything planned. Family dinners. Wedding errands. One-night stays. Then I’d leave again.”

“Every time you came back,” I said, opening my laptop, “he told me he had a work emergency or family thing.”

Avery went silent. “He told me you were a coworker.”

I swallowed hard. “I was his girlfriend.”

Then Avery sent the screenshot.

It was a message from Tyler.

“Only three more months until I’m your husband.”

I checked the date at the top.

My stomach dropped.

“No,” I whispered.

Avery’s voice softened through the phone. “What?”

I opened my calendar.

It had been my birthday trip. Tyler had booked a hotel, ordered pancakes, and turned off his phone for “one weekend with no distractions.”

I stared at the screenshot until the words blurred.

“Kim?” Avery asked.

Avery went quiet.

Then she said, “He told me he was visiting his mother.”

“He told me he wanted to be fully present with me.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment.

It was not only cheating.

It was strategy.

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