When I mentioned I was feeling under the weather, Andrew drove through a snowstorm just to see me. From then on, except when it was a matter of principle, this gesture became his ticket to forgiveness. That was until I accidentally discovered his chat records.

"The other day, I had a physical need. She was cleaner than the usual ones I hang out with."

"Women are always touched by little gestures. Act more emotional and they'll stick with you."

***

As I reached for the fruit on the table, Andrew subtly angled his phone away from my view. My gut instinct immediately screamed he was cheating. I realized I hadn't checked Andrew’s phone in ages. When we first got together, I was filled with insecurity and often asked to see his phone to ensure he wasn’t seeing anyone else. Andrew never seemed bothered; he simply smiled and added my fingerprint to his access settings, letting me check it anytime.

Over time, I became familiar with most of his social circles and found it all somewhat mundane. Andrew had given me enough reassurance, and I gradually stopped looking at his phone. Yet once doubt takes root, it grows swiftly. I unlocked his phone while he was asleep.

By chance, he had left a secondary WhatsApp account logged in. There was only one contact. Her profile picture and Andrew’s were a couple's photo, two adorable, pink cartoon rabbits cuddled up. I remembered Andrew once saying he disliked pink, considering it childish.

I opened their chat, and an hour ago, they had exchanged goodnight messages. Scrolling up revealed all sorts of flirtatious and intimate exchanges. The messages stretched back half a year. I clicked into the girl's social media profile. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and even I was almost drawn in.

I kept scrolling down until I stopped at one of her posts. The caption read: "What to do with all this joy?" Alongside the text were two images. One showed their fingers intertwined. I instantly recognized Andrew’s hand. He wasn’t wearing our wedding ring, but a faint ring mark was visible on his finger. The other image was a screenshot of a $52,000 money transfer from Andrew to her.

I maintained a neutral expression while taking out my own phone to record from start to finish their chat history, transaction records, and her social media posts. At that moment, I felt empty inside, calmly preserving the evidence. After putting his phone back in its place, I lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, unable to sleep.

It was only when a sliver of light pierced through the curtains that I realized dawn had arrived.

The next day, I pretended like everything was normal. When Andrew went to clean up, I picked up his camera. He rarely let me near it, likely because it was pricey, but I hadn’t considered other reasons. As a photographer, he had a lot of images stored on it.

I kept flipping through them until a striking photo stopped me in my tracks. A stunning woman in a skimpy outfit was sticking her tongue out playfully at the camera. Her face matched the woman from Andrew’s posts online. My hands started to tremble.

The next image was of Andrew giving the woman a peck on the cheek, both beaming at the camera like a couple in love.

I quickly took pictures of these images with my phone. Just as I was about to put the camera back, Andrew emerged from the bathroom with a scowl and swiftly took the camera from me.

"I’ve asked you not to touch my camera," he snapped. "You don’t get it. If you drop it, how would I explain that to my clients?"

Looking at Andrew’s furious expression, I felt a sense of unfamiliarity. When did he become so short-tempered with me?

"I noticed it was dusty and wanted to clean it for you," I replied. "I won’t touch it again."

Andrew remained silent, packing the camera away with a brooding look.

Initially, I thought Andrew was worried I’d damage the camera. The truth was, he feared I’d see his photos with another woman. He wouldn’t let me near his camera, yet she had free rein to use it for taking close-up shots.

I stood there, frozen. Andrew must have sensed something was off and, after securing the camera, came over to console me with an embrace.

"Sweetheart, I was too quick to snap earlier. You know how important it is for my work. If it gets dusty, I’ll take care of it myself."

"Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ll whip up some ravioli for you."

I nodded, not wanting to spar with him.

The next day, after dinner, Andrew was busy editing photos on his computer. As evening rolled in, his phone buzzed unexpectedly. He glanced at the screen and, with a calm demeanor, took the call into the bathroom. Moments later, he reappeared, swiftly changing into different clothes, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Seeing my curious glance, he pressed his lips together in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

"Hey, hon, a client's just called in with a last-minute gig, and I might be gone for a couple of days."

"That urgent? We were about to have dinner."

"Yeah, their usual photographer backed out last minute, and a friend suggested me. I'll grab a bite to eat when I'm out."

"Alright, take care, love."

While this wasn't the first time something like this had happened, it had never been quite this rushed before. Outwardly, I maintained my usual demeanor, but internally, I decided I would tail him later. Andrew came over and kissed my forehead.

"For you and our home, pushing myself a bit more is worth it."

"Don't stay up waiting for me tonight. I probably won't be back. Make sure to eat properly and ease my worries."

A wave of nausea hit me. How had I missed his acting talents all this time? After Andrew left, I couldn't help but feel sick. Scenes from our years together played like a movie reel in my mind. The Andrew I knew seemed like a different person now, not matching the man standing before me.