Gwendolyn Vance.
My hands stopped moving.
There it was.
Not a hotel.
Not travel.
A home.
They had lived together.
For at least twenty-two months.
I stared at the screen.
Then printed the lease.
My marriage ended quietly at my desk.
Not that night in bed.
Not when he confessed.
There.
A lease.
Two names.
One address.
The life he had built while I waited.
Still, I said nothing.
Because I wanted to know how much he would lie.
Christopher came home permanently two weeks later.
The first few days, he acted affectionate.
Too affectionate.
Flowers.
Wine.
Touches.
That strange embrace every night.
Then I asked.
“Who taught you to sleep like that?”
He walked onto the balcony.
Lit the cigarette.
Then said,
“Lorelei, there are things I don’t tell you because you don’t need to know.”
I remained in bed.
My heart was pounding.
Then he said her name.
“Gwen isn’t like the others.”
For a moment, I stopped breathing.
The others.
Not one affair.
Others.
He continued.
“If you don’t make a scene, she’ll never have any reason to bother you.”
I stared at his silhouette.
City light behind him.
Cigarette ember glowing.
Then I asked.
“How long?”
He did not answer.
I repeated.
“How long, Christopher?”
He sighed.
“Don’t do this.”
“How long?”
He turned.
“Why does the number matter?”
I laughed.
Because sometimes cruelty is so complete it becomes absurd.
I sat up slowly.
“Then choose.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Her or me.”
Christopher’s jaw tightened.
“For God’s sake.”
“Choose.”
“This is childish.”
“No.”
“It’s simple.”
He took another drag.
Then said.
“I came home, didn’t I?”
My stomach turned.
“That’s your answer?”
“You’re my wife.”
“And Gwen?”
Silence.
“Christopher.”
“She understands the situation.”
I almost smiled.
“What situation?”
“That there are different parts of my life.”
I stared.
He had turned betrayal into organization.
Then he walked toward the bed.
Sat beside me.
His voice softened.
“Give me some time.”
That familiar tone.
The old Christopher.
The man I had loved.
“I’ll end things with her.”
My eyes filled.
He touched my cheek.
I wanted so badly to believe him.
That was the dangerous part.
Even after everything, some part of me still wanted the old version back.
Then I remembered the condo lease.
Gwen’s mother’s birthday.
The money.
The others.
I moved his hand away.
“How much time?”
He hesitated.
“A few weeks.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
His shoulders relaxed.
He thought I had accepted.
I had not.
That night, he slept in the guest room.
At 1:57 a.m., I woke thirsty.
I went downstairs.
As I approached the kitchen, I heard his voice.
Low.
Warm.
Laughing.
A laugh I had not heard in years.
He was sitting in the den.
Laptop open.
Video call.
Gwen’s voice came through.
“Why did you tell her about me?”
Childlike.
Soft.
Then.
“Now she probably hates me.”
Christopher laughed.
“As long as I’m here, no one is going to hurt you.”
I stood in the dark hallway.
My hand tightened around the glass.
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