He pulled up security footage.
Cole Hartman walked into my building.
Gym bag over one shoulder.
Cap pulled low.
I stared at the screen.
“How many times?”
Luis swallowed.
“A few.”
A few.
Those two words destroyed every explanation I had spent the previous year constructing.
I asked my boss for the rest of the day off.
Then I borrowed a coworker’s car.
And followed my wife.
Chapter 6: The Mall
Melissa left work at her normal time.
She drove toward the shopping center where she claimed to train.
I stayed several cars behind.
My hands were shaking so badly that I had to keep reminding myself to loosen my grip on the steering wheel.
She parked near the gym.
For one brief second, relief hit me.
Then Cole appeared.
He had been waiting beside another row of cars.
Melissa walked toward him.
They hugged.
Not a friendly hug.
Then they kissed.
I felt something inside my chest collapse.
Cole put his hand around her waist, the same way he had at the Smith machine more than a year earlier.
Except now there was no pretending it was coaching.
They walked away from the gym.
I followed on foot.
A few blocks away, they entered a private residential development. When I tried to continue, the guard at the entrance stopped me.
“Can I help you?”
I looked through the gate.
Melissa and Cole were disappearing down the street together.
I pointed.
“That couple.”
The guard followed my hand.
“Do you know them?”
“I thought I did.”
He looked at me strangely.
I asked whether they lived there.
The guard refused to give me information, which was appropriate.
Then he said something casually.
“I think they're together. Seen them a few times.”
I walked back toward the mall feeling sick.
Melissa’s car was still there.
I called her.
No answer.
Then I heard a phone ringing.
From inside her parked car.
That was how she had beaten location tracking.
She left the phone at the gym.
According to the gym receptionist, Melissa had not actually checked in there for almost eight months.
The affair had not started recently.
I had been living inside a lie for most of a year.
Chapter 7: My Father’s Advice
I called my father from the borrowed car.
I made it through maybe four sentences before I started crying.
I had not cried in front of my father since I was a teenager.
He did not tell me to be strong.
He did not tell me to confront her.
He listened.
Then said:
“Your marriage may be finished, but don't destroy your position because you're hurting.”
My father had always been practical.
He contacted an old friend who practiced family law.
“Get evidence.”
That was the advice.
Not revenge.
Evidence.
When Melissa called later, she said she had just finished working out.
I sat in my car staring at the mall where her phone had been sitting alone.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“You sound strange.”
“I think I’m getting sick.”
That lie came easier than I expected.