Kyson said he loved me, but then he disappeared for 12 hours on my birthday. He was busy taking his assistant, who had attempted suicide, to the hospital. I pleaded with him to stay, to not leave for another woman. He said he couldn’t make that promise. Later, when I was about to leave him for Bjorn, Kyson’s eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t hold his hand. That will drive me insane.” I smirked and shook my head, “I can’t make that promise.”

---

It was my birthday, and a light rain was falling outside the window. I cleaned the room, changed the flowers in the vase, put on a new dress, prepared an extravagant dinner, set the music, and looked toward the door, waiting for my husband, Kyson, to come home. For ten years, ever since I was eighteen, Kyson had celebrated my birthday with me without fail. Even during important negotiations, he’d have his assistant reschedule to be with me.

But tonight, he didn’t come home. I couldn't even reach him by phone. I started to feel anxious. Kyson had always assured me that celebrating my birthday together was a promise he'd never break. By eight in the evening, there was still no sign of him. Nervously, I decided to call him. Until this year, I could call him anytime. But as his business boomed, he got busier and asked me not to call before nine. “In case I’m at a dinner meeting,” he'd say, after pulling me close, fingers entwined in my hair. I’d agreed.

My friends said Kyson’s behavior felt off and urged me to check on him, but I trusted him completely. I kept calling, but Kyson wouldn’t answer. I reheated the food, waited another thirty minutes, and called again. Still no answer. An hour later, I tried once more. Nothing.

Feeling increasingly anxious, I messaged him on WhatsApp, “What’s going on? Are you okay? Should I call the police...” His response came instantly, “Don’t worry, I’m dealing with something. Don’t call the police.” It felt strange to me. He could answer a message right away but not take my call? I asked, “When will you be home? I’m waiting to have cake with you.” He didn’t reply.

My friends’ cautionary words echoed in my mind, “A man can always find time to answer his wife’s call unless he chooses not to.” I bit my lip. I’d always believed that whatever happened, Kyson wouldn’t deceive me. He knew he was the only family I had. I couldn’t bear a betrayal from him. I waited in the living room all night. He returned in the morning, after twelve hours.

He looked exhausted, didn’t offer an explanation, and just fell into bed. His clothes had a faint scent of blood and hospital disinfectant. I felt scared. He’d been so busy this past year that he no longer shared every detail with me. I worried he might be sick and hiding it. I wanted to ask him, but he was fast asleep. I decided to wash his clothes first.

As I emptied his pockets, a hospital admission slip fell out. It was for Jolie Montgomery, dated yesterday evening, from the trauma department. My heart sank. Jolie was Kyson’s assistant. This year, even meeting him at his company required going through her. I recalled an occasion when Kyson and I had dinner plans, but a call from Jolie reminded him of a meeting, and he rushed back to the office. I didn’t feel strongly about Jolie, just that she seemed like a recent college graduate. I couldn’t imagine what kind of injury required him to stay at the hospital all night.

I sat in the living room, biting my lip, my mind blank. I tried to think rationally, hoping for the best, but unease gnawed at me. I remembered a past Thanksgiving; Kyson and I had planned to see a movie, and Jolie had accidentally bought tickets for the same showing. As the movie ended, Jolie looked at me and said, “Kalani, I envy your spot.”

Feeling restless, I scrolled through my phone aimlessly until a short video caught my eye. It showed a tall, handsome man rushing around an emergency room, paying bills, holding the hand of a girl being wheeled into the emergency room. His eyes were red, “Nina, you’ll be okay, I’m here.” The person who filmed it added in the comments, “Saw this at the ER. Couple had a fight, the girl got hurt, and the guy was crying. Seems they’re deeply in love, hope they make up soon...”

Kyson was all too aware of the impact his betrayal had on me. He knew the sting of being let down by those you trust the most.

My dad claimed he loved me, but then he remarried and had another daughter, leaving me behind as if I didn't exist. My mom was no different, professing love while now only remembering she has a son. When I turned eighteen, their marriage completely unraveled. Suddenly, I was left to navigate life alone as their divorce and new marriages unfolded. Overnight, I lost my family, and it felt like I had been orphaned.

That same year, Kyson made a promise, simple yet kind. On my eighteenth birthday, I sat on the edge of the sports field with a small honey cake, candles flickering, as tears rolled down my face. I wished silently, and Kyson, just finishing his basketball game, walked by. He couldn’t bear to see me crying, so he said casually, "Kalani, I'll spend every birthday with you from now on."

Back then, he was full of youthful energy, a bright spot in my otherwise dim life, stopping more than once to look at me, like a sympathetic passerby rescuing a stray cat. He took me under his wing and stayed with me for a decade.

During those ten years, we graduated from college. I became an illustrator, while Kyson launched his own business. When his company became successful, he asked me to quit my job and stay at home. He said, "Kalani, I want us to get married. I want you to focus on our home."

With my strong desire for a family, much greater than most, I married Kyson. We bought a house in the suburbs, and I settled into the role of homemaker. More than one person warned me that success could change a man. But I always trusted Kyson. I believed he understood that he was my only connection, the sole anchor in my solitary world. If he ever betrayed me, it would destroy me.

A sudden heaviness settled over me as I watched Kyson's tired face in sleep, his long lashes casting shadows, his lips drawn tight as if something troubled him even in dreams. What was he mourning? Was it the girl from the emergency room, or was it missing my birthday? I assumed it was the former.

I don’t smoke.

Kyson does.

I used to think about getting him to quit, but that morning, I found myself in the living room at dawn, glaring at the ridiculous spiced honey cake on the table, topped with two adorable little figures. I picked up a cigarette from the coffee table and lit it.

Smoking is awful. I barely took a puff before I was coughing my lungs out, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face.

The sound of my coughing woke Kyson. He came out looking pale, his eyes narrowing at the cigarette butt on the coffee table. "Kalani, are you smoking?"

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Hair a mess, face ghostly—a picture of a woman on the edge. Maybe that's what I was becoming.

Turning to Kyson, I asked, "Where were you last night?"

"One of my colleagues fell ill, and I took them to the hospital," he said, his voice flat.

"Did it take all night? Don’t they have family or friends?"

Kyson was silent. His classic move when he didn’t want to lie but didn’t want to tell the truth either.

I pulled out my phone and opened a video. "This colleague?"

He glanced at the screen, his body visibly tense. After a moment, he nodded. "Yes."

My mind went blank, a dull hum filling my head. Unsteady, I stumbled backward, hitting the wall.

Kyson reached out to steady me, but I pulled away. I looked at his long fingers—the same ones that once led me down the aisle, but last night, they held on tight to someone else.

Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, landing on his hand.

"Kyson," I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, "when did it start?"

He stayed silent. Once again, that silence.

I looked up, searching his face, but he avoided my gaze. We stood there, frozen in the harsh bathroom light.

It wasn't until I swayed again, nearly losing my balance, that Kyson moved to support me. "Nothing happened; you’re reading too much into it," he tried to assure me.

Kyson had never lied to me before, so his attempt was awkward and unconvincing.

I closed my eyes briefly. "Kyson, from day one, I told you I couldn't handle being deceived. You can hurt me, but don’t lie to me."

The tears wouldn’t stop falling as Kyson reached out to wipe them away, his fingers cold against my skin.

After a while, he nodded. "A year ago," he admitted, voice raspy. "A year ago, I felt something."

"I'm sorry, Kalani. I couldn’t control it."