Chapter 1The Secret Mistress Behind My Eight-Year Relationship

It was almost eleven at night by the time Noah finally walked through the front door.

He kicked off his shoes, spotted me sitting quietly at the dining table, and walked over to casually brush a stray lock of hair from my forehead.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" he asked.

"Saving electricity," I replied.

He let out a soft chuckle and headed into the narrow kitchen, returning a moment later with a steaming bowl of plain oatmeal.

"Eat up. You haven't been taking care of yourself again."

I stared at the bowl. The steam curled into the cold air.

"Noah," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "What is that custom jewelry receipt all about?"

His hand froze in mid-air.

It was only for a fraction of a second. Then, his easy smile returned.

"I ordered it for a guy at the office. You went through my pockets?"

"It fell out while I was doing your laundry," I said. "Twenty-five thousand dollars. Your coworker must be incredibly generous."

He looked down, smiling as he nudged the bowl closer to me.

"Well, the guys in corporate make the big bucks. Now eat."

He sounded so relaxed. So casual.

He sounded so convincing I almost believed him.

But the twenty-thousand-dollar monthly deposits burned in my mind, searing hot and painful.

He picked up his phone to reply to a text.

The screen lit up in the dark room.

The contact name was a single red heart emoji. Followed by one word.

Wife.

* * *

I lowered my eyes and slowly forced down the bowl of bland oatmeal.

I didn't say another word.

The next morning was Saturday.

Noah left the apartment bright and early, claiming his department had an emergency data audit.

I sat on the edge of the mattress for a long time. Finally, I picked up my phone and typed the address from the jewelry receipt into the GPS.

The Azure.

It was the most exclusive luxury high-rise in the downtown district. Condos there went for two thousand dollars a square foot.

I had never even allowed myself to buy a cup of coffee in that neighborhood.

Then, I searched for the name printed on the invoice. Stella.

A perfectly curated social media profile popped up instantly.

Her feed was a flawless grid of luxury living. Pilates studios, first-class boarding passes, exclusive tasting menus, and designer hauls.

Every single photo radiated the effortless glow of a woman who was fiercely, deeply taken care of.

Her latest post was from yesterday.

The caption read, Hubby worked late but still managed to snag a reservation at my favorite Michelin Omakase. Waited two months for this table. Totally worth it!

At the edge of the frame, a man's side profile was barely visible.

Noah.

He was holding up a piece of fatty tuna with his chopsticks, offering it to the camera with the softest, most adoring smile.

Just last week, I had asked him if we could save up to try a nice sushi place for our anniversary.

He told me it was a waste of money and that we could make rice bowls at home for a fraction of the cost.

I kept scrolling.

A month ago, she posted another update.

Woke up to a new car! Hubby was worried about me taking Ubers late at night, so he paid cash for this gorgeous baby. How did I get so lucky?

A pristine white Mercedes convertible sat in a brightly lit underground garage. A massive bouquet of red roses rested on the passenger seat.

I drove a rusted ten-year-old Honda Civic. The transmission had slipped twice last winter, and he told me to just take the bus because repairs were too expensive.

I scrolled further down.

Three months ago.

Happy three-year anniversary! Woke up to a total smart-home appliance upgrade. Hubby says our sanctuary deserves only the best.

Three-year anniversary.

Noah and I had been together for eight years. We had lived together for five.

That meant right around the time we signed our first lease together, he had started an entirely different life with her.

For three whole years.

He would lie in bed next to me in our cramped apartment, whispering, "Just hold on a little longer, Anna."

And all the while, he was living the exact life he promised me with someone else.

I locked my phone, leaned back against the cheap headboard, and stared at the peeling paint on the ceiling.

The roof had leaked last summer. Noah said hiring a contractor was a waste of money, promising he would patch it himself over the weekend.

A whole year had passed. The water stain was still there.

By four in the afternoon, I drove my beat-up Civic down to The Azure.

I parked across the street, watching the massive glass building through my scratched windshield.

Warm ambient lighting bathed the luxurious lobby. Security guards in tailored suits stood at attention by the revolving doors.

I looked down at my pilled sweater and faded jeans. I couldn't even muster the courage to walk into the lobby.

I sat there all afternoon.

Just as the sun began to set, Noah's car pulled out of the underground garage.

A young, beautiful woman was in the passenger seat.

She rested her head affectionately on his shoulder. Noah steered with one hand, his other hand gently holding her fingers.

He was wearing a smile I hadn't seen in years.

It was a relaxed, genuinely happy smile. The smile of a man without a single care in the world.

Whenever he was with me, his brow was always furrowed.

He was always exhausted, always annoyed, always stressed about our budget.

Their car turned the corner and merged into the city traffic, vanishing from sight.

I turned the key in the ignition and slowly drove away.

At nine o'clock that night, my phone buzzed.

It was an unknown number.

Hey. You sat outside The Azure for three hours this afternoon. The concierge showed me the security footage.

You're Anna, right? The one Noah told me about.

My fingertips turned ice cold.

A second message followed immediately.

Don't panic, I'm not looking for a fight. But I think it's time we had a real conversation.

I typed back, I'm not his ex. I'm his girlfriend. We never broke up.

The typing bubble on her end paused for a long time.

Anna, you really don't get it, do you?

In Noah's mind, you two have been over for years.