Chapter 2: The Message That Changed Everything
I stared at Devin’s phone like it had just grown a mouth and confessed everything we were trying to hide.
*He knows everything.*
Three words.
Five seconds.
A thousand questions.
My first instinct was to look at Malik.
I don’t know why.
Maybe because some part of me was still waiting for him to become the man I married.
The man who would tell me the truth before someone else had to.
But Malik was still laughing.
Still relaxed.
Still completely unaware.
Or pretending to be.
“You’re doing that thing again.””
His voice startled me.
I turned back.
“What thing?””
Malik smiled.
“Overthinking.””
The word landed harder than he realized.
Because that was his favorite explanation for everything.
I was overthinking when I said I felt alone.
I was overthinking when I noticed he stopped wearing his wedding ring to work.
I was overthinking when I asked why he came home smelling like a perfume I didn’t own.
I was always overthinking.
Until I wasn’t.
“Maybe I’m just paying attention,” I said.
His smile faded slightly.
Across the table, Devin looked between us.
Tasha didn’t notice.
She was scrolling through pictures on her phone, showing herself and Malik some vacation photos from years ago.
“Oh my God, remember this?”” she said, turning the screen around.
“That weekend at the lake?””
Malik laughed.
“That was the trip where Devin almost drowned because he thought he could swim after drinking.””
“I was not drunk,” Devin said.
“You were singing to a tree,” Malik replied.
Everyone laughed.
Everyone except me.
Because I was watching Devin.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I needed to know what he was going to do.
What was he hiding?
What did Malik know?
And why did Devin look more afraid than guilty?
My phone vibrated in my purse.
I froze.
I didn’t want to check it.
But somehow I already knew.
I slipped my hand inside and looked under the table.
A message from Devin.
*Don’t react. Please.*
I swallowed.
Another message appeared.
*We need to talk before you go home.*
My heartbeat became louder than the restaurant around me.
I put the phone away.
“Everything okay?”” Tasha asked.
I looked up too quickly.
“Yeah.””
She studied me.
“You keep saying that.””
I smiled.
“Because everyone keeps asking.””
She laughed softly.
But her eyes stayed on me.
Tasha was not stupid.
That was something I had always respected about her.
She noticed things.
She just didn’t always say them.
Dinner ended twenty minutes later.
Too late to feel casual.
Too early to feel safe.
Outside, the night air hit my face.
The restaurant doors closed behind us, cutting off the laughter inside.
Malik wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
A stranger watching us would have thought we were perfect.
That was the cruel thing about appearances.
They didn’t need to be real.
They just needed to look real.
“You were quiet tonight,” Malik said.
“I know.””
“Are you mad at me?””
I looked at him.
The question almost made me laugh.
Not because it was funny.
Because I couldn’t believe he could ask it so easily.
“I don’t know.””
His eyebrows pulled together.
“What does that mean?””
“It means I don’t know.””
“Simone.””
There it was.
The warning tone.
The one that said I was making his night difficult.
“I don’t want to fight,” I said.
“Neither do I.””
“Then don’t turn every conversation into one.””
He stared at me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then his expression softened.
“I miss you.””
That should have made me happy.
A month ago, those words would have been enough to fix my entire week.
But now they felt rehearsed.
Like a line he remembered too late.
“I miss you too,” I whispered.
And that was the saddest part.
Because I meant it.
I still missed him.
I missed the version of my husband who used to dance with me while making breakfast.
The man who once drove three hours in the rain because I mentioned craving a specific dessert.
The man who knew exactly how I took my coffee.
I missed someone who technically still existed.
But somehow felt gone.
When we reached the parking lot, Devin cleared his throat.
“Malik, can I talk to you for a second?””
My body went still.
Malik looked surprised.
“Now?””
“Yeah.””
“Everything good?””
Devin hesitated.
“Actually, no.””
The air changed.
Tasha looked up.
“What’s going on?””
Devin looked at her.
Then at me.
Then away.
“I’ll explain later.””
That answer made everything worse.
Malik walked a few steps away with Devin.
I stayed beside Tasha.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, she crossed her arms.
“Okay.””
I looked at her.
“Okay what?””
She gave me a small, humorless laugh.
“Something is happening.””
“I don’t know what you mean.””
“Yes, you do.””
My stomach tightened.
Tasha looked toward the two men standing near Malik’s car.
“You and Devin have been weird for weeks.””
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“What?””
“Don’t.””
Her voice was quiet.
Not angry.
Not accusing.
Just tired.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know.””
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because the worst part about being caught wasn’t being accused.
It was knowing there was enough truth behind the accusation to hurt.
“Tasha…”
She shook her head.
“I’m not saying what you think I’m saying.””
“Then what are you saying?””
She looked at me carefully.
“I’m saying I know my boyfriend.””
A chill moved through me.
“And lately, he looks at you like he’s waiting for permission to say something.””
I looked away.
Because she was right.
And I hated that.
“I swear nothing happened,” I whispered.
Tasha’s expression changed.
Not softer.
Not harder.
Just sad.
“I didn’t ask if something happened.””
That sentence followed me all the way home.
Because sometimes the truth is not in what someone asks.
It’s in what they already know.
The drive home was silent.
Malik kept one hand on the steering wheel.
The other rested near the gear shift.
A hand I used to hold.
A hand I now watched like it belonged to someone else.
When we pulled into the driveway, he turned off the engine.
Neither of us moved.
Finally, he said, “I know something is wrong.””
I stared through the windshield.
“Do you?””
“Yes.””
The answer came too quickly.
“What’s wrong then?””
Silence.
A long silence.
Then:
“I think you’ve been unhappy.””
I laughed quietly.
Not because it was funny.
Because I couldn’t believe that was where his mind went.
“You think?””
He looked at me.
“Simone.””
“No, it’s okay.””
I opened the door.
“Actually, maybe you’re right.””
I stepped out.
“Maybe I have been unhappy.””
His voice followed me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
I stopped.
Then I turned around.
“Because I did.””
His face changed.
“I told you.””
The words came out before I could stop them.
“I told you every time I felt alone. Every time I missed you. Every time I felt like I was losing you.””
The driveway light flickered above us.
“You just never believed me.””
I went inside before he could answer.
That night, Malik slept on the couch.
At least that was what I assumed.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone.
Waiting.
Not for Devin.
I told myself that.
I was waiting for answers.
That was different.
Wasn’t it?
At 2:03 a.m., my screen lit up.
Not Devin.
Malik.
A text message.
I stared at it.
Because he was downstairs.
Ten steps away.
And still he chose a message.
*We need to talk tomorrow. I found out what happened three weeks ago.*
My hands went cold.
I didn’t breathe.
I read it again.
And then another message appeared.
*I know about the calls.*
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Because Malik didn’t know everything.
He knew enough.
Enough to destroy us.
Enough to make me wonder one terrifying thing.
May you like
What exactly had Devin told him?
And why was Devin acting like he was the one who had something to lose?