Chapter 2The Careless Heart

Eric stayed over at my place that night. After we made love, he fell into a deep, soundless sleep. Everything felt the same as always; even the scent on his skin had mingled with mine, becoming familiar again.

But I couldn't sleep.

I stared at his phone, face down on the nightstand. It felt like an eternity before I summoned the courage to pick it up. The passcode was still our anniversary.

I swiped it open. His call log was filled with work numbers. His most recent texts were in a group chat with colleagues, discussing a project. His photo album, aside from pictures of meeting slides, was full of the cherry blossom photos we’d taken in the park a few weeks ago.

I checked his purchase history, his food delivery apps, his travel logs. I scoured every corner of his digital life and found nothing. Not a single crack in his story.

I started to wonder if I was just overthinking things, my anxiety amplified by the stress of wedding planning.

Then, my heart pounding, I took his car keys and crept downstairs.

The car was spotless, the air inside clean and fresh. But the GPS history showed two frequently visited locations: Westwood Medical Center and an unfamiliar residential address.

And then I saw it. On the passenger’s side, a faint, smudged footprint was pressed against the inside of the windshield.

My mind exploded with fragmented images. They would have pushed the passenger seat all the way back. Maybe he would lean in to bite her earlobe while they were tangled together, just like he’d done with me moments ago…

My nails dug into the leather of the driver's seat, leaving shallow crescents behind—marks as invisible and damning as the footprint on the glass, a silent taunt.

My knuckles were white. The scenes playing out in my head made me want to vomit.

I had always thought my life was on a perfect, smooth track. For the first time, I understood what it felt like for your heart to turn to ash.