I logged into my girlfriend's account to sell her DSLR camera on a secondhand marketplace. The transaction went through fine. The next morning, the messages started showing up, and they were nothing I was ever meant to see.

"Great shots this time. What's the rate for the outfit in the middle?"

That’s when it hit me–the camera's memory card had not been wiped.

However, the photos inside… were nothing I had ever seen before.

Revealing shots. Intimate poses.

Not meant for me.

I forced myself to stay calm and tried to explain the situation to the buyer.

His reply stopped me cold.

"Drop the act. It’s not like this is the first time I've bought from you."

My hands froze over the keyboard.

It was just a secondhand marketplace. The message on the screen was from the buyer. He had already paid, and I had already shipped the item. The deal was done.

What I sold was my girlfriend's DSLR camera.

However, it seemed like what he wanted… was not just the camera.

Messages kept popping up.

"Hey, Chloe Hastings, what's wrong? Mad at me?"

"Don't tell me you're getting too into the roleplay again. This cold attitude suits you. Still not replying?"

"I picked the first outfit. Same pose as before. How much? Name your price."

"If you don't reply, I'll just go with the usual–five hundred."

A few more photos came through.

Suggestive poses. Flirtatious expressions. It was exaggerated, but still familiar.

My girlfriend–the one I lived with.

The name matched. The face matched.

My blood ran hot.

I'm just a delivery driver. Nothing special.

The one thing I have ever been proud of… is having a beautiful girlfriend.

We went to the same high school. She was the kind everyone noticed–pretty, soft-spoken, with a great figure.

It took me three years to stop being the backup and become her actual boyfriend.

She spent a lot–food, shopping, makeup, designer bags. And then there was photography.

So I worked. From morning until night.

Bad weather, holidays–it did not matter. I took every order I could.

I made enough to get by. Barely enough to support both of us.

Lately, work had slowed. Money was tight.

That's why she gave me her DSLR, said it was outdated, told me to sell it for extra cash.

When I held that camera, I actually felt lucky. I thought I had a girlfriend who cared.

I did not expect this.

I had been cheated on.

The anger rose fast. I decided to play along, lure the guy out… and deal with him.

So I sent back a simple 'OK.'

The reply came instantly.

"Tomorrow night, 10 p.m. Triumph Hotel, Room 701."

That time…

Just yesterday, I told her about a new food street nearby. Discounts started at ten. Business would be good.

They picked that exact time.

If I had not seen the messages… I would have been out working, completely unaware.

I shut the laptop. My stomach turned.

Footsteps came from the door. She was back.

She leaned into me, soft and sweet.

"Jake Reynolds, do you like my new nails?"

Her voice was sweet enough to melt anything. Normally, I would not have been able to resist pulling her into the bedroom.

However, now, looking at her manicure, my anger only grew.

I was out there working myself to the bone–supporting everything, paying for everything, including all her expensive habits.

Photography alone burned through money. That DSLR had cost a fortune.

And she was cheating on me. Using that same camera to take those kinds of photos.

I could not hold it in anymore.

I shoved her away. She fell to the floor.

"Say it. Who's the guy waiting for you at Triumph Hotel?"

She froze. Then, unbelievably, she got angry.

"Jake, are you crazy? What Triumph Hotel? I've never even heard of it!"

Some people don't admit anything until they're cornered.

I opened the laptop, logged into her account, pulled up the latest transaction, and dragged her over.

"The guy is already setting it up. Look at it yourself."

I expected tears. Apologies.

Instead, she slammed her hands on the table, her voice sharp.

"Jake, I think you've been getting too comfortable. Your brain's not working. What are you even talking about?"

I looked closer.

My heart dropped.

All those messages… All those photos…

Gone.

Completely wiped.

Impossible. I had just seen everything clearly a moment ago.

The man hadn ot just arranged a meeting–he had sent revealing photos of my girlfriend and even told her exactly what to wear.

"Did you stay up all night doing deliveries? You're imagining things.

"I asked you to sell the camera to help with expenses, and this is what I get? You're accusing me of what, exactly?"

I ignored her. I kept clicking, scrolling up and down. But like it had never existed, every message was gone.

Chloe snapped and slapped me across the back.

"I can't live like this anymore. Let's break up!"

That slap snapped me back to reality.

How could I bear to lose her? A girlfriend like her–if we broke up, I would probably stay single forever.

I quickly pulled her into my arms, apologizing again and again.

She would not let it go. I almost dropped to my knees.

We argued until midnight. She maxed out my last credit card, and I swore I would never doubt her again. Only then did her anger ease slightly.

"But there's one more thing."

She grabbed the mouse and turned off the 'Remember Password' option on her account.

"You're not allowed to use my account. That's private."

She was the one who asked me to sell the DSLR. Normally, I would have listed it on my own account. But the computer had auto-logged into hers–that was how all of this started.

I did not dare argue. I just nodded.

"Alright. Whatever you say."

After calming her down–and since I happened to be home that night–we ended up in bed.

By the time we were done, she was exhausted, falling asleep without even removing her makeup.

In the dark, I carefully got out of bed and went to the computer.

She had turned off auto-login and cleared the browsing history. But after living together this long, I had seen her enter her password enough times to remember it.

Those messages were not my imagination.

I had to find out the truth.

I logged in, opened the transaction, and checked the messages.

Empty.

Aside from the system notice confirming the deal, there was nothing.

I paused, then clicked into the buyer's profile.

That was when I noticed something wrong.

His profile picture was greyed out. The account had been deleted.

If there was nothing to hide, why delete the account so quickly?

Those suggestive photos kept replaying in my mind.

The more I thought about it, the more unsettled I felt. I took the entire next day off.

Triumph Hotel. I had to see for myself.

…

The next morning, Chloe acted like nothing had happened, casually handling one of her other cameras.

I tested her.

"The camera I sold–did you clear the memory card?"

"Of course," she replied. "You always check before selling something."

The answer sounded fine.

However, her eyes were blinking too quickly.

She was lying.

I did not expose her.

By nine-thirty that night, she was getting restless.

"Jake, aren't you going out to work?"

I sneered inwardly.

"Of course. Big night–I can't miss it."

I left the house and rode straight to Triumph Hotel.

I booked a room directly across from 701.

We had plenty of cameras at home. I brought a small one with me.

I was going to catch them together.

Ten o'clock. No one.

Eleven. Midnight.

Nothing was going the way I expected.

I stayed up until dawn, my eyes burning.

The door across the hall never opened.

Chloe never showed up.

Had I been wrong?

Did she really not betray me?

Were those messages and photos all in my head?

I wasn't even thirty yet. There was no way I could be this confused.

I was still trying to make sense of everything when my phone suddenly rang, making me jump.

It was Chloe. Her voice was soft as ever.

"Jake, you worked all night, right? You must be exhausted. I made your favorite soup. I'm almost at your dispatch hub–come pick me up."

That snapped me fully awake.

She was heading straight to the dispatch hub–where I was supposed to have been working last night.

If she asked any of my coworkers, she would find out immediately that I had not shown up. And she would lose it.

I rushed back to the hub, slipped one of the guys some cash to cover for me, then hurried out to meet her.

Just made it in time.

She held up the soup, smiling.

"Jake, you've worked so hard! Look at those dark circles–must've been a busy night, huh?"

One lie leads to another.

I had no choice but to agree. Said I made a lot.

She held out her hand.

I clenched my jaw and transferred her another few hundred–money I did not even have.

So in the end, I caught nothing… and only sank deeper into debt.

I felt suffocated. She clung to me, acting cute as always–but it did nothing for me now.

I made an excuse and left. Went home alone.

I logged into her account again, checking everything over and over.

Nothing. Just a greyed-out profile. No clues at all.

My phone kept buzzing–repayment notices, overdue alerts, debt reminders.

My head throbbed. I was about to block all of them–when one message caught my attention.

[Want to know what your girlfriend's been doing behind your back? Being kept in the dark doesn't feel good, does it? Poor guy.[]

Every hair on my body stood on end.

It felt like someone had been watching me.

Chloe… was definitely hiding something.

I replied.

[Who are you? What do you know?]

They sent back only a phone number.

It looked familiar. I stared at it for a long time–then it clicked.

It was the buyer's number. The one who bought the camera.

Right. I could follow this lead and find out exactly who had been arranging to meet my girlfriend.

I called several times.

No answer.

The only lead I had… went nowhere.

I sat there, lost. I could not even bring myself to work.

Chloe came home before evening, which was unusual. Normally, she would be out all day spending money.

She said she had gotten up early to bring me the soup and wanted to take a nap.

Her phone was on the table.

Something crossed my mind.

I knew her passcode.

I unlocked it, opened Contacts, and entered the number.

Nothing.

The number was not saved.

What the hell…

I was about to give up when the phone suddenly vibrated in my hand.

Three messages popped up in quick succession.

[That was close, Chloe. Your idiot boyfriend almost found out.]

[Whole night wasted. I miss you. You promised to make it up to me.]

[Next time, let's go to your place. No outfit needed–it'll be even more exciting.]

My hands started shaking.

The phone slipped from my grip and hit the table with a loud crack.

A voice came from the bedroom.

"What are you doing out there? I just fell asleep."

Normally, I would have gone in right away to comfort her. But not this time.

Three phrases kept echoing in my head–

Idiot boyfriend.

Your place.

More exciting.