When a ferocious storm tore through our town, Frank Turner risked his life to save me from being swept off our balcony's edge.

Grateful, I finally said yes to his relentless marriage proposals.

From then on, he treated me like royalty, fussing over every sniffle.

To the world, he was the gold standard of devotion. But two years into our marriage, his warmth faded.

When crippling stomach pain left me doubled over, he brushed it off, claiming work demanded his night.

I went to find him, only to catch him in a steamed-up car with a girl, both stripped bare.

My fairy-tale marriage shattered like glass.

Turning around, I booked a flight and left the country.

Frank tore the city apart looking for me, but it was too late.

One night, my stomach condition flared up.

Frank Turner, my loving husband, promised to swing by the pharmacy for my meds.

Soon after, he called. "My boss just sprung overtime on me. I sent the pills up in the elevator. Take them, alright? I'll be back soon. Love you."

I hated the dark, so no matter how late his shifts ran, Frank used to race home, saying the thought of me shivering alone in bed gnawed at him.

Now he hung up with a reluctant sigh, and I believed him.

Unexpectedly, his "overtime" was a steamy hookup with a college girl in his car. In the backseat, they sweated buckets and panted hard.

She asked, "Do you love me, Frank?"

He chuckled, "If I didn't, would I be here this late? Gotta punish you for doubting me."

They dove into another round, oblivious to the world.

After a while, Frank got out, slid into the driver's seat, and drove off.

I watched it all in silence, and minutes later, my phone rang.

"Babe, feeling better now?" he asked. "If not, I'll swing back and take you to the hospital."

I stared at his taillights disappearing into the night, a storm churning inside me.

"Much better," I lied.

Rustling then came through the line. He shushed the girl and explained smoothly, "Just my coworker's kid. Little brat is climbing all over me."

His lie was blatant, and I thought of our wedding day.

His vows rang in my ears. He swore he'd never lie to me, always respect me, and love me forever.

Now those words were ash.

Tears stung my cheeks as I whispered, "When are you coming home? I can't sleep without you rubbing my stomach."

"Sorry, babe, it's a madhouse here," he said, rushed. "There's warm milk in the oven. Drink it and rest up."

The line went dead, and my heart sank.

A gust of wind swept the dress, dragging me back to that storm years ago when he risked everything to save me.

When I asked him why, he said that he'd follow me into life or death. Touched, I swore I'd forgive him for anything except betrayal.

Now everything had changed.

I watched the speck in the distance, late for buses, so I huddled in a 24-hour convenience store.

At dawn, I dragged myself home and booked a flight abroad.

Our second anniversary loomed, but Frank didn't come home all night, a first in our marriage.

At noon, his kiss woke me, and I caught a familiar perfume. I frowned, remembering it was the one I'd bought for Lila Fox.

Lila was a student we'd sponsored and the same girl in his car last night.

I pushed him away, bile rising in my throat. "You reek of sweat. Go shower."

Frank snuggled closer, playing coy. "Work was brutal. Let me hold you for a while."

As we tussled, my fingers brushed something crusty on his pants, dried evidence of his betrayal.

"Kid spilled oatmeal on me last night," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. "I'll change."

As he showered, I doubled over, vomiting into the sink, my stomach churning from more than just my condition. I grabbed his phone and opened his chat with Lila.

Her avatar was a sketch he'd drawn—art he'd once sworn was only for me. The latest one was when he went to buy my medicine.

Lila: [Back at school, and you haven't visited. Got new lingerie. Wanna see if it fits?]

Scrolling up revealed more flirty texts, money transfers, and coded plans for meetups.

Turned out, they had been sneaking around since our wedding. This explained his goofy grins at his phone and the hours spent in the bathroom.

When I confronted him, he claimed he was watching funny videos. When I got upset about his distance, he'd take a day off, whisk me away on a trip, and spoil me with gifts.

I'd relent, never seeing the truth staring me in the face. The signs were there all along.

...

Fresh from the shower, Frank wrapped me in a bear hug. "Honey, let's have a baby."

His hands tugged at my pajamas, slipping inside.

Once, I'd have melted into him, our nights a blur of passion. Now, I shoved him away and gathered my clothes.

Fighting back my nausea, I said, "I'm on my period and feeling awful. Sleep in the guest room."

"It's my fault," he murmured. "I've been so busy, I've neglected you. You're mad, right?"

"You mean busy cheating?" I almost blurted out.

I bit my tongue and managed, "You're overthinking it."

But what happened in the car the other night kept flashing across my mind. Annoyed, I got out of bed and tossed every perfume bottle from my vanity into the trash.

Frank pursued me for three years, and we'd been married for two years. Our backgrounds were worlds apart, but I always stood by him as he clawed his way up, building a life from nothing.

When I accepted his proposal, everyone was against it.

"You could have anyone," said my mom. "Why him? We're moving abroad. What will you do here alone?"

"Frank values me more than life," I replied, brushing off her concern. "He'd never betray me."

Later, he won over my parents and friends with his actions. I chose to stay and build a life with him.

Now I was the fool.

I called my mom, set on divorce.

"It's not your fault," she sighed. "We all misjudged him. I'm glad you're seeing the truth. Come home. I'll make your favorite food."

The next morning, I woke up to see a cup of ginger tea on the table. It was Frank's silent apology.

At work, he sent me bouquets of roses.

A coworker swooned, "You two are still so romantic after all these years. Total couple goals!"

I forced a smile, only feeling bitter inside, because no one knew the rot beneath the petals.

I handed in my resignation and passed off my work.

As I left, a delivery guy brought lunch and wedding favors.

He announced, "Frank and Adeline's second anniversary is coming up! Lunch and candies on them!"

On my phone, Lila's new post popped up.

She and Frank were at an amusement park, sporting Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps headbands. Their poses were flirty and intimate.

Last year, I had begged Frank for those movie-themed photos, but he had laughed it off, calling them childish.

Apparently, they weren't childish with her.

I liked her post and walked out.

The janitor called after me, "You're leaving these beautiful flowers?"

"They look pretty, but rotten inside," I replied without looking back.

Not long after I arrived home, Frank rushed in with a StellaLou keychain.

"Babe, I know you love StellaLou," he wheezed, struggling to catch his breath. "Got this for you. Seeing it is like seeing me."

Years ago, when we were broke, I'd eyed that keychain at the park but passed to save money.

Now, I barely glanced at it. "Leave it on the coffee table."

From Lila's post, I knew it was a freebie for spending $999.

"Babe, don't be mad," he said. "It was Lila's birthday, and she begged to go to the park."

"Don't worry," I said, my voice flat. "Birthdays matter."

He noticed my packed desk. "You quit? No big deal. I'll take care of you. My money is yours, too."

I sidestepped him. "Go hang out with her. Lila has preferred you since middle school. No one else cuts it."

Once, I took Lila out, buying her snacks and rides, but she was not satisfied.

She sat on a bench all morning, wasting the expensive tickets.

My cramps were brutal that day, so I called Frank to take over. When he showed up, Lila lit up, dragging him around and chattering about wildflowers.

When they returned, Frank fussed over me. "Babe, you okay? Need a hospital?"

Lila pouted, dropping her toys. "Adeline's been sitting there forever, and my feet hurt. Why don't you ask about me?"

Frank chuckled, grabbing her bags. "I'll drive you back to school."

She clung to his arm, beaming.

I saw her as a kid then and let it slide. Now, she was an adult, crossing lines she should've respected.

...

"Go. If she can't find you, I'll be the one dealing with her complaints," I said.

Frank tapped my nose, grinning. "Jealous, huh? I'll tell her to cab back to school. I'm staying with you today."

Sensing my mood, he suggested dinner at Sky Garden, where we had our first date.

He ordered my favorite dishes, and during a pause in the live piano, he whispered to the waiter.

Then he took the stage, sitting at the piano. "Babe, our second anniversary's coming. You've stuck by me through everything. I won't let you down. You can always count on me."