The beach is quiet except for the rhythmic sound of waves sweeping against sand.
His silhouette waits by the shoreline of the public beach nearby, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched against the evening chill. I rehearse my ending speech with each step toward him, the words I’d practiced in the mirror growing fainter as the distance closes.
He thinks this is just another stolen moment, but I’ve already decided: tonight is the last time. I need to end the secrecy and the guilt. The way I feel like I’m living two lives and failing at both of them.
His face brightens when he spots me. My prepared first sentence sits ready on my tongue, but then as soon as we are standing in front of each other, he pulls me close and his lips find mine, warm against the cool air. Suddenly, my fingers betray me. They curl into the fabric of his jacket.
For just a moment, I let myself forget why this is wrong. I let myself forget everything else…even my best friend. Just like I did for the past three months.
Since that first time Gabriel took me into his arms.
TWENTY
JUDY
Present Day
“Gabriel and I had an affair for three months.”
That’s what Scarlett said, and after hearing it, I walked straight out on them.
I didn’t shout, didn’t ask questions, didn’t demand timelines, details, or explanations wrapped in careful words that won’t make it hurt any less. I didn’t stay long enough to hear apologies that would never be enough.
I simply turned, walked past them, and shut myself inside the bedroom like my body knew before my mind did that I needed walls to protect me, to keep me from breaking apart completely.
That was hours ago. Now it’s past midnight, and I’m sitting on the edge of the bed—while Gabriel is spending the night in the second guestroom—fully clothed and unmoving. I’ve been here so long my legs have gone numb, a prickling ache creeping up my calves, my feet tingling. My fingers are numb too, curled into the edge of the mattress so tightly my knuckles ache. If I let go, I’m afraid everything inside me will spill out.
I keep replaying the moment she said it, her words dropped between sobs like something she could no longer carry alone. Like she wanted me to share her burden, while Gabriel just stood there like a statue.
I didn’t see it coming. Even now, my mind tries to reject it, tries to rearrange the words into something else, something less devastating that could be erased or dismissed as a lie. But there it is out in the open, echoing around in my head, ugly and sharp and entirely true.
I feel like such a fool.
All this time, I thought whatever they were hiding had to do with Sadie. Evidence they didn’t want to share, a detail they were afraid would destroy me. Some piece of the puzzle they thought I wasn’t ready to see just yet. Or that they were sabotaging my search efforts again.
Not this. Not an affair. Not the knowledge that my best friend and my husband were betraying me while standing beside me in my darkest moments. While holding me as I cried. While telling me they were there for me. While promising, again and again, that we would survive this together.
I could never have imagined that the woman who helped me get through Sadie’s disappearance was also helping tear my marriage apart.
A few minutes after I entered the room, Ididcry. The tears came in a rush, hot and unstoppable. I wept until my chest ached, my head throbbed, and my throat burned raw.
Now the tears are gone, leaving behind something worse. A numbness that makes the world feel blurred and distorted, like I’m watching everything through a smudged, thick pane of glass.
Unable to breathe anymore, I stand and cross the room, throwing open the balcony door. Cool night air rushes in, salty and sharp as it fills my lungs. I breathe it in deeply, again andagain, until the pressure in my chest eases just enough that I don’t feel like I’m about to suffocate.
Sadie is still my priority, and I cannot allow any distractions, not even something as devastating and ugly as this one.
But a single, unwelcome thought slips through the wall I’m trying to put up.
That’s why Gabriel didn’t protest when I suggested we divorce, four months after Sadie disappeared. I told myself I was doing him a favor, that my grief had turned me into someone he deserved to be free from. I believed I was holding him back, anchoring him to a life filled with sorrow and unanswered questions. My grief was too great that I feared it would drown both of us.
But he didn’t put up a fight. Not the way I thought he would, not the way a man who wants to stay married does. It all makes sense. Leaving me would mean he would be free to be with Scarlett.
In the end, I changed my mind and we continued on. Was he disappointed?
Maybe he’s still with her.
The thought drives a sharp, twisting pain straight through my stomach.
