There were confirmations for luxury hotels in downtown Charlotte and receipts for expensive lunches that he had never mentioned to me. The business trips that had seemed so stressful for him were actually romantic getaways funded by our shared savings.
As I scrolled through the photos they had sent to each other, I heard the shower stop and the bathroom door creak open. Garrett walked into the bedroom with a white towel wrapped around his waist, still wiping steam from his forehead.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw me sitting on the edge of the mattress with his unlocked phone clutched in my trembling hands. The first expression that crossed his face was not shame or regret, but a flash of pure annoyance that I had dared to invade his privacy.
He snapped his fingers and demanded to know why I was going through his personal belongings like a common thief. I stood up slowly and looked him directly in the eyes while asking the only question that mattered at that moment.
I asked him how long he had been lying to me, and my voice sounded like a stranger’s voice in the quiet room. Garrett began to talk very quickly, waving his hands around as he claimed that the entire situation was far more complicated than it looked.
He told me that I had been acting distant for the last year, and he claimed that his affair with Natalie did not actually mean anything to him. Every excuse that spilled out of his mouth made me feel more disgusted by the man I thought I knew.
I told him to stop trying to shift the blame onto me, and I informed him that I had already seen every single message and photo. When I spoke the name of the woman out loud, his defensive posture collapsed and was replaced by a cold, sharp anger.
Without a word of warning, he stepped forward and struck me across the face with the palm of his hand. The force of the blow was enough to throw me sideways against the heavy wooden dresser, and my vision blurred for several seconds.
