Love in Flames: It All Goes Up in Smoke

Oh. I'd almost forgotten that James was a firefighter too.

James had claimed that Monica Sloan, the woman Harrison had expressed his overwhelming admiration for, was merely nothing more than his colleague.

But in the last six months, Harrison no longer clung to me or needed me. Instead, he asked to spend time at James' workplace, often saying he wanted to see Monica.

At first, I didn't think much of it. I assumed it was normal for young children to like hanging out with a pretty young woman.

Alas, it had slipped my mind that a man like James would like a pretty young woman too.

The constant messages and calls at night had James rushing out of the house even in the middle of the night. Initially, I thought it was due to emergencies at work. After all, firefighters worked to save lives, and that was of the highest priority.

Yet, after inadvertently seeing the same name flashing on his screen several times, my sixth sense kicked in belatedly. I realized something was amiss.

The caller had been given the nickname "The Clumsy Little Klutz". It was such an affectionate nickname that I couldn't even try to talk myself out of feeling suspicious.

Once, after an intimate night with James, I couldn't resist checking his phone while he was in the shower.

He barely had any calls from his workplace. An overwhelming number of them had come from that woman. She was the only contact he'd pinned to the top of his chat list. Although their chat was simple and casual, it was filled with thoughts and comments that he never felt the need to share with me.

Whenever he responded to my texts, it was always a simple message saying, "Got it."

I proceeded to check the woman's WhatsApp stories and was immediately greeted with a photo of her and James. She'd even added a blissful message that made it clear how much he adored her.

"Thanks to the world's best captain, Captain Ellis, for getting me a cake!"

I checked to see when the story had been posted—August 27th.

That was our 7th wedding anniversary. He'd come home extremely late that night. Just as I thought he'd forgotten about our wedding anniversary, he'd brought out a small cake and given it to me.

Although it had clearly looked like a half-hearted gesture, it had made me feel loved anyway.

Alas, unaware of the situation then, I'd overlooked James' unnaturally stiff expression and the buttercream on his sleeve.

The cake in Monica's photo looked a lot more presentable than the one James had given me.

He'd only gotten me a cake for our anniversary because he'd needed to get a cake for Monica anyway. In fact, it had only been an afterthought.