Inside were dozens of printed emails.
Text message screenshots.
Handwritten notes.
The first message was dated nearly two years earlier.
Long before I had discovered the affair.
I began reading.
«You’re the only person who understands me.»
Another.
«Angela doesn’t love me anymore.»
Another.
«I’m only staying for the children.»
Then another.
«I wish I’d met you first.»
Each message felt like another knife twisting inside my chest.
I looked up.
“You believed him?”
Tears rolled down Lily’s face.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew exactly what to say.”
—
She wiped her eyes.
“The first time he messaged me, I ignored him.”
She took a shaky breath.
“Then he apologized for bothering me.”
“I still ignored him.”
“A week later he said he needed advice about your birthday gift.”
I remembered that birthday.
The necklace.
The surprise dinner.
The flowers.
He had asked my own sister for help.
Or at least…
That was what he claimed.
