The last few days have been… weird.
Ever since Jenn mentioned the date, I haven’t known what to feel or what I’m doing, or who I’m doing it for.
I couldn’t bring myself to reply to her messages.
And it’s not because I was angry.
But because something in me couldn’t even process the space we’ve suddenly landed in.
Too much closeness… followed by too much distance.
So, I did what I thought I should do.
And I called him.
My fiancé.
We hadn’t spent time together in months, not really.
Not the kind of time where I get dressed up, make reservations, and wear perfume.
I told myself: You said yes to this man. You have a child together. Fix this.
My friends took me shopping.
I wanted to look soft, feminine, ethereal.
I even picked a new shade of lipstick.
The next day, I came home earlier than I had in the past three months.
I tried to be what I used to be, before I knew there was more.
He was in the shower.
At 4 p.m.
Which is… different for him, but okay. People change routines.
His phone was in the kitchen, plugged in.
It buzzed, and a name popped up. Tamara.
I’d never heard that name before.
But something about the way it popped up, like it belonged, made me pause.
I know his password.
He’s never been secretive. He’s always been open.
I unlocked it.
And there she was.
Photos and texts.
A thread that stretched back nine months.
She’s gorgeous.
Effortless in the kind of way that makes you feel like maybe you are the one doing too much.
Then I saw sweet messages, little hearts, inside jokes.
In that moment, I couldn’t cry or throw the phone across the room like the norm when you find out your fiancĂ© is cheating.
I didn’t even open all the messages.
I just locked it, placed it gently back where I found it, and went to make myself something to eat.
Because… what else do you do when your life begins to shift again?
You eat, try to breathe, and wait.