"You can come back this weekend to grab whatever's left, but you're not staying here tonight." She broke down, accusing me of being heartless, insisting she hadn't done anything wrong. I I argue. I just kept packing clothes, shoes, toiletries, filling the suitcases with anything I could fit. Once they were full, I placed them by the front door. "Where am I supposed to go?" she asked.
"I don't know." I said. "Maybe your co-worker's place. The one you talk to 50 times a day." Her face went pale again. "I can't." "Why not?" I asked. "If it's just a co-worker, I'm sure they wouldn't mind helping you out." She stared at me, cornered.
After a long silence, she grabbed the suitcases and left, slamming the door so hard a picture frame fell off the wall. I didn't sleep at all that night. I just sat on the couch, replaying everything from the past few months, the late nights, the secrecy, the defensiveness. I felt like a fool for not recognizing it sooner. Then again, you don't expect someone you love to lie to you every day.
The next morning, I called in sick to work. I needed time to think. Around 10:00, she texted, "Can we talk?" I didn't reply. Then she called. I ignored it.
Eventually, she sent a long message. "I stayed at a friend's place last night. I'm sorry for how I reacted. You were right. I should have been more open.
Can we please talk about this?" A friend's place, not the co-worker's. That caught my attention. I decided I needed real answers. So, I did something I'm not particularly proud of, but I don't regret either. I went through her laptop.
She'd left on a coffee table, completely unprotected like always. I opened her messages and there was months of conversations with him, the co-worker. Flirty messages, late night calls, plans to meet. Nothing outright physical in writing, but the emotional affair was obvious. They've been spending nearly every evening together for the past 3 months, dinners, drinks, long walks, sitting in his car by the lake talking late into the night.
One message from 2 months ago stood out. "I wish things were different. I wish we'd met first." His reply, "Maybe we did. Maybe this is just bad timing." Her response, "Or maybe it's perfect timing. Maybe I'm finally realizing what I really want.
Reading it made me sick, but I kept going. The worst part? She told him about our fight. She texted him the night before. He kicked me out.
Can I come over? His reply, "Not tonight. My roommate's home. I'll see you tomorrow." That told me everything I needed to know. He was fine being her escape, her fantasy, but when things got real, he didn't want the complications.