The moment I walked through the front door that evening, I noticed a familiar pair of sneakers in the entryway. They were limited edition. I had given them to Matthew for his birthday last month.

Something rustled in the living room. I pushed the door open and found him standing in front of Deborah's wardrobe, holding one of her silk nightgowns against himself as if checking the fit.

"Leo, you're home." Matthew saw me and did not flinch. He walked over as if nothing was wrong, easy and relaxed. "Debbie's heading to Sanyara this weekend, and you're always swamped, so I figured I'd swing by and help her pack. Women have so much stuff. I didn't want her to forget anything."

He smiled with an open, guileless look, the kind that belonged to a man with a clean conscience.

I stared at him. My gaze settled on the red mark on his neck. "Very considerate of you. Finished all your own work already?"

Matthew touched his neck instinctively. His eyes shifted for a brief moment.

"Come on, my work is nothing compared to her project. She's meeting major clients. She can't afford to slip up." He turned back to the wardrobe and pulled a sapphire-blue silk scarf from the back. "Leo, this goes perfectly with that white blazer set of hers. Don't you think?"

I had brought that scarf back from overseas last month, sourced through a contact specifically for Deborah. She had taken one look at it and said the color was too loud. She had never worn it.

Now Matthew had pulled it out without hesitation, as if he were thoroughly familiar with her wardrobe.

I forced the anger down and walked over to the sofa. "You seem to know her tastes pretty well."

His hands paused for a beat. Then that easy, brotherly expression slipped back into place. "Come on, Leo. How would I know her better than you? I'm just offering an outside perspective."

The front door opened, and Deborah walked in. She saw Matthew and stopped. Something flickered across her face, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

"Matt, what are you doing here?" she asked.

He went to meet her, warm and familiar. "Debbie, your man is always buried in work. I didn't want you forgetting anything for the trip, so I came to give you a hand."

Deborah glanced at me. I gave her nothing.

She took it as her cue. "You really didn't have to. Leonard, look at Matt. Now that's what a real friend looks like."

I watched them play off each other and felt my eyes grow cold.

"He's something, all right." I stood and walked toward them. "Since you two work so well together, maybe I should hand over the rest of her domestic needs to you."

Deborah's expression changed, and she grabbed my arm. "What is wrong with you? Matt is being kind. Stop making a scene."

"Making a scene?" I pulled my arm free and pointed at the scarf. "You told me that color was too loud. You never wore it once. Now Matthew pulls it out, and suddenly it's perfect?"

She faltered. Her eyes slid away. "I… I used to think that. I just see it differently now. It's actually not bad."

Matthew stepped in without missing a beat. "Leo, you're too sensitive. She works herself to the bone every day. She shouldn't have to come home and deal with your moods on top of everything else."

Listen to that. Righteous, measured, generous. And somehow I was the villain.

I looked at his self-satisfied face and laughed. "Fine. I'll drop it. You two take your time. I'm tired. I'll be in the study."

I walked in, closed the door, and locked it behind me.

Through the door, I heard Matthew lower his voice. "Debbie, his temper just keeps getting worse. Not like me. I actually care about how you feel."

Deborah murmured something soft to calm him. "Okay, okay, don't bother with him. After Sanyara, I'll find the right moment and have it out with him properly."

I pulled out my phone and typed every word into my notes app, exactly as she had said it: [Have it out with him.]

"Have it out with me, huh? I will make sure you never forget it," I muttered viciously.

On Saturday morning, Deborah stood in the doorway with her suitcase, lingering over the goodbye.

"Honey, I'll text you as soon as I land. Make sure you eat properly while I'm gone," she said.

She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. If I had not already known the truth, I might have believed it.

"Safe travels."

I watched her step into the elevator. The moment the doors closed, the smile dropped from my face.

Half an hour later, I opened the vehicle tracking app on my phone. Deborah's car wasn't headed to the airport. It had stopped outside a residential complex I knew well: Matthew's apartment building.

I stared at the red dot on the screen. It remained parked downstairs for ten minutes, then started moving again, this time straight toward the airport.

…

At 2:00 p.m., Deborah's message arrived right on schedule.

Deborah: [Honey, made it to the hotel. The view here is gorgeous. Wish you were with me so we could watch the ocean together.]

She sent a photo with the view from the hotel balcony. I zoomed in on the reflection in the sliding glass door. It was blurry, but clear enough. A man lay stretched out on a lounge chair on the balcony, shirtless, wearing board shorts.

I would recognize that build anywhere.

I did not call her out. I kept my reply short.

[Beautiful view. Get some rest. Call me tonight if you're free.]

…

At 8:00 p.m., I video called Deborah. She took a long time to answer. When she finally did, she wore a hotel bathrobe, her hair half-dry, a plain white wall behind her.

"Leonard, I just got out of the shower. Have you eaten?" Her eyes did not quite settle on the camera. They kept drifting slightly to the side.

"I have." I held her gaze. "Debbie, turn the camera around. Let me see the room. I've been thinking about booking the same place next time I'm in Sanyara."

Deborah's face stiffened. "The room's a mess. There's nothing worth seeing. I'll pull up some photos online for you when I'm back."

I gave her no room to deflect. "No. I want to see the actual room."

Then it came through the speaker. A clear, bright clink of glass from somewhere off camera. Then Matthew's low laugh. His voice barely rose above a murmur, but the quiet room made it carry.

"Quit it." Deborah slapped her hand over the microphone. Her face turned pale. "Leonard, something just came up. A client is calling me. I have to go."

She hung up before I could respond. I stared at the black screen and let out a slow, quiet laugh.

This was the woman I had loved for five years. This was the man I had called my friend. I opened the booking app and bought a late-night flight to Sanyara, departing in two hours.

Since they wanted excitement, I would give them some.

While I packed, I made sure to include two things in my bag: the engagement watch Deborah had given me, and the car key I had given Matthew for his birthday.

…

At 2:00 a.m., the plane touched down at Sanyara Phoenix International Airport.

The sea wind hit me as I stepped outside, damp and salty, and did nothing to ease the anger in my chest.

I took a cab straight to the five-star hotel where they were staying.

The front desk attendant looked up with faint surprise. After all, a man was checking in alone in the middle of the night.

"Sir, do you have a reservation?"

I gave her Deborah's ID number and full name. "I'm her fiancé. I'm here to surprise her. Could you look up her room number for me?"

The attendant checked her screen, and her expression changed.

"I'm sorry, sir. Miss Jones is indeed a guest here, but her reservation was made for two. And she left specific instructions that she..." She paused, choosing her words. "She asked not to be disturbed."

I let out a short, cold laugh.

I reached into my bag, pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills, and set them on the counter. "I understand how this works. All I need is the room number. Whatever happens after that is my responsibility."