Close enough to watch him fall

CHAPTER ONE

RAVEN’S POV

I sat on the cold bathroom floor with my phone clutched in both hands that wouldn't stop shaking. I pressed Jessica's number and waited through two rings that felt like forever.

"I need to leave him," I said the moment she answered, my voice coming out flat. "I need a divorce."

"What? Raven, what happened?"

The words stuck in my throat, but I forced them out. "He's married. He's already married to someone else."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not his wife," I said, staring at the tile grout between my feet. "I never was. I'm just…nothing."

"Where are you? I'm coming right now."

"No, not yet." I pressed my forehead against my knees. "I need to think. I need to figure out what to do."

"Raven..."

"I'll call you later. I promise." I hung up before she could argue.

I pulled myself up using the sink and looked in the mirror. My eyes were swollen and red, and my face looked drained of color. The woman staring back at me was a stranger, and I couldn't understand how I'd missed this for so long.

It started yesterday at the grocery store when I ran into Claire; sweet, bubbly Claire from the community center. We'd become friends over the past few months through coffee dates and long conversations about our lives, our husbands, our dreams for the future. She'd mentioned her husband Jason before, talking about how he traveled constantly for work and how she wished he'd come home more, how they'd been married for five years but she still felt lonely.

Yesterday, she pulled out her phone to show me a photo from their anniversary dinner last week, smiling in that proud way new wives do. And there he was: Conrad, my Conrad, with his arm wrapped around Claire's shoulders, grinning at the camera like he had every right to be there.

The store tilted sideways. Claire asked if I was okay. I mumbled something about feeling dizzy, left my cart in the middle of the aisle, and drove home with my hands locked on the steering wheel.

I thought about every conversation I'd had with her. All those times Claire talked about Jason, how he was never home, how she wished he'd make more time for her. I'd comforted her through all of it, given her marriage advice about my own husband without even knowing it.

When I got home, I tore through everything: his office drawers, his closet, the pockets of jackets he never wore. I found the second phone hidden in his gym bag, tucked inside a pocket I'd never noticed before. My hands shook as I turned it on, and the messages loaded slowly, each one another knife to my chest.

Messages from Claire filled the screen. "Miss you." "Can't wait until you're home." "I love you." And his responses, all signed with that other name. Jason.

I scrolled back further, and wedding photos appeared one after another. Claire in a white dress, laughing. Conrad—Jason—kissing her under an arch of flowers. A marriage certificate dated five years ago, five whole years before I'd even met him.

My stomach turned as the pieces fell into place. His business trips that lasted for days, his late nights at the office, the weekends he said he had to work. He wasn't working at all. He was with her, with his real wife.

I thought about our wedding, how there hadn't been a church or a venue because Conrad said he wanted something private, something that was just ours. He said big weddings were a waste of money, that what mattered was our commitment to each other. I'd thought it was romantic, thought he just wanted to focus on us.

But there was no marriage license because he'd said there were paperwork delays, that we'd handle it later. I'd trusted him completely, never checked, never questioned, just believed every word that came out of his mouth. He'd made me feel special, different from other women, said he'd never felt this way before. Every single word was a lie.

I splashed cold water on my face, dried it, and took a slow breath. I could confront him right now, throw everything in his face, but something stopped me. Some instinct told me to wait, to watch, to see what else he would do. My phone buzzed with a text from Conrad.

"Heading home now. Can't wait to see you. Love you."

I stared at those words. Then I typed back. "Love you too. I'll start dinner."

I went downstairs and moved through the kitchen on autopilot, making pasta because it was his favorite. I boiled water, chopped vegetables, stirred sauce while my hands knew what to do even though my mind was somewhere else entirely.

The sound of his car in the driveway made my heart pound, but I wiped my hands on a towel and forced my face into something calm. The front door opened, and his voice echoed through the house. "Raven? Something smells amazing."

I turned from the stove as he walked into the kitchen, still in his work suit with his tie loosened. He looked tired but happy, looked exactly like the man I thought I'd known.

"Hey," I said, my voice coming out steadier than I expected. "How was work?"

"Long day," he said, setting his briefcase on the counter before coming over to kiss me. I let him, even though his lips felt wrong against mine. "But I'm home now."

"Dinner's almost ready."

"Perfect. I'm starving." He smiled and loosened his tie. "Let me change first."

He went upstairs, and I gripped the edge of the counter, counting to ten. I could do this, I just had to make it through dinner.

When he came back down, he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, looking relaxed and comfortable as he sat at the table. I brought over two plates of pasta, and he dug in immediately, telling me how great it looked.

I sat across from him and picked up my fork, forcing myself to eat even though the food tasted like nothing in my mouth. My phone buzzed on the table, just a spam email, but when I looked up, Conrad was staring at his own phone with an expression that had changed, softer and almost tender. He was smiling at the screen.

Then he noticed me watching, and the smile disappeared as he put his phone face-down on the table. "Sorry. Work email."

But I'd seen it, just for a second before he flipped it over, the name at the top of his screen. Claire. Not a work email at all, but a message from his wife.

My chest tightened, but I kept my face neutral. "No problem."

We ate in silence for a moment before his phone buzzed again, and again, three times in quick succession. He glanced at it, then at me. "I should probably take this. Client emergency."

"Of course."

He stood up and walked toward his office, but he didn't take his briefcase or his laptop, just his phone. I sat at the table alone, staring at my half-eaten pasta, knowing he was texting her right now while I sat here pretending everything was fine.

When he came back fifteen minutes later, he was smiling again with that same soft expression he'd had before. "Sorry about that. All handled now."

"Good."

He sat back down and reached across the table for my hand. "You okay? You seem quiet tonight."

"Just tired."

"We should go to bed early then," he said, squeezing my hand while his wedding ring pressed against my fingers. "Maybe watch a movie first?"

I looked at him, at this man who held my hand and smiled at me while texting his wife in the other room, this man who played the devoted husband while living a completely different life. "Sure," I said. "A movie sounds nice."

And I meant it, because while we sat on that couch pretending to be a couple, I would be planning exactly how to destroy him.