Falling at Her Feet

I slept until 8:00 pm. The apartment was dead silent—Zachary hadn't come home.

I played his voice message.

"Darling, I might not be back tonight. I have to entertain a client. I ordered your favorite steak—it's at the door. When you wake up… mm, make sure to heat it up before you eat."

He remembered that I loved steak; remembered that my stomach was sensitive, and that I couldn't eat cold food. He even remembered to remind me.

He knew and remembered everything.

And yet, he still cheated.

His voice was hoarse while his breathing was ragged—like a dying fish gulping for air.

A cold, sinking feeling spread through my body, like I'd fallen into an icy river. My limbs felt weak, and even my head felt unbearably heavy.

Why would he send me a voice message while they were in bed? Did they get off on this?

Without thinking, I called him.

"Is there something wrong with the project?" I asked. "Or do your clients just not have wives and kids to go home to this late at night?"

A soft, breathy moan slipped through the speaker.

For a second, there was silence. Then, maybe out of guilt, his clumsy and unconvincing words tumbled out. "Darling, I think I had too much to drink. Let's talk when I sober up tomorrow."

With that, Zachary hung up, leaving nothing but a deadline.

Drunk? Please. I had just interrupted him having the time of his life.

The takeout sitting outside had long gone cold. I tossed it into a plate and stuck it in the microwave, watching the numbers count down.

My mind was blank, and the only thing I could feel was the dull, hollow beating of my own heart.

I pulled up a number in my contacts. The call barely rang once before it connected.

"Ethan. Is Zachary with you? He's not picking up. Tell him to come home right away. I need to talk to him."

There was a pause before Ethan Cole chuckled. "Sienna? Yeah, Zachary's here. He was exhausted and got knocked out early. It's late, and driving back wouldn't be safe. If it's important, I'll have him explain everything to you tomorrow."

In an instant, the air between us turned still.

I'd known Ethan and Zachary for almost ten years. I thought I knew them inside and out and had treated them well. But tonight, they stood on the same side, finding a way to deceive me.

One cheated while the other covered for him. They had a rapport like clockwork. Such a seamless execution, huh?

I must have gone quiet for too long because Ethan's laughter had faded. "If it's urgent, I can tell him to head back now."

A single tear slid down my cheek. I had never felt so pathetic.

So I laughed lightly and said, half-jokingly, "So you're the important client Zachary's been entertaining? I had no idea you were in that kind of business."

There was a beat of silence. Just two seconds.

Then Ethan laughed again. "Come on, I was just trying my luck in different fields. What kind of 'important client' am I?"

Such a loyal and dedicated best friend through and through. But I was done playing along.

I was tired—tired of holding the right answer in my hands while they played dumb, pretending I didn't know.

"Ethan. Has anyone ever told you you're a terrible liar? Zachary cheated. I know. And now, I also know you've been covering for him."

He didn't give up easily. "That's ridiculous! You know how much Zachary loves you. You don't trust me? If Zachary ever cheated, I'd break his legs myself."

He added, "Sienna, are you sure you're not just exhausted? Maybe you need rest—you've been so paranoid lately."

Of course.

To everyone else, Zachary would always be the perfect husband—the devoted, considerate man who adored me.

Without saying anything else, I sent Ethan a screenshot of Tiffany's post.

We'd been best friends for ten years. I refused to believe he didn't recognize the man in that picture.