My Fiancé Called Me Boring in Bed

"I need you to help me find out where a person actually was on a certain night."

I slid my empty coffee cup to the side. The private booth insulated us from the cafe's afternoon chatter.

Sophie Tan didn't blink. She didn't ask who, and she didn't ask why. She just picked up her phone from the table.

"Give me the date," she said.

"Friday, October 14th."

Sophie dialed a number and put it on speaker. It rang twice.

"What did you break this time, Soph?" a deep voice crackled through the audio.

"Nothing," Sophie replied, leaning back against the vinyl seat. "I need a favor, Marcus."

"I'm at work."

"So work on this. I need ride-hailing logs for a specific number. Friday, October 14th."

Marcus Tan let out a long exhale over the line. "You know that's illegal, right?"

"I know you owe me for covering your rent last December," Sophie shot back. "Are you at a computer?"

"Always. Give me the number."

Sophie looked at me. I recited Daniel's phone number without missing a single digit.

Keyboard clacking echoed through the small speaker.

"Give me an hour," Marcus said, his tone shifting to pure business. "I'll text you what I find."

"Thanks, Marky."

"Don't call me that." The line went dead.

Sophie set the device face-down on the wooden table. "Do you want to order food?"

"I'm not hungry," I said.

"You need to eat, Vera."

"I'll eat later."

We sat in silence. I traced the condensation on my water glass. Sophie didn't press. She never did. It was why I trusted her more than anyone else in this city.

Forty-five minutes later, her screen lit up. A single image file.

Sophie opened it, scanned the display, and pushed the phone across the table.

"Here," she said quietly.

I looked down.

It was a direct pull from the ride app's backend server.

*User: Daniel Chua.*

*Date: October 14.*

*Pickup Location: Apex Solutions Tower.*

*Drop-off Location: The Grand Plaza Hotel.*

*Arrival Time: 9:03 PM.*

He never went to the airport. He never boarded a flight to Chicago. He took a twenty-minute car ride from his office to a five-star hotel downtown. He never left the city limits.

"Send that to me," I instructed.

Sophie tapped the screen. My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out and saved the image. Opening my hidden photo vault, I created a new album.

I typed the word *Receipts*.

Pressing my thumb against the sensor, the padlock icon flashed green, locking the folder away behind a wall of encryption.

Next, I opened my Notes app. Right below the word *Begin*, I added a new line.

*The Grand Plaza Hotel.*

I hit save.

Sophie watched my fingers move across the screen. "Are you okay?"

I placed my phone flat on the table, right next to hers. I held both of my hands out in the empty space between us.

My fingers were perfectly still. Not a single tremor.

"I'm thinking about my next step," I said, my voice completely level.

"Do you want me to have Marcus dig deeper?" Sophie asked, lowering her voice. "Credit cards? Hotel registry?"

"No. This is enough for now." I pulled my hands back and folded them in my lap. "If Marcus pokes the hotel database, it might trigger a security alert. I don't want to spook him."

"Okay. You call the shots." Sophie grabbed her purse and slid out of the booth. "I have to get back to the gallery. Will you be alright going home alone?"

"I'm not going home yet."

"Call me if you need me. Day or night."

"I will. Thank you, Sophie."

We walked out of the cafe into the bright afternoon sun. Sophie waved down a cab, climbed in, and disappeared into the dense city traffic.

I stood on the sidewalk, letting the pedestrians stream past me.

Pulling out my phone, I opened Daniel's social media profile.

A new post sat at the top of his feed, uploaded ten minutes ago.

It was a picture of a half-eaten steak and a glass of sparkling water. The location tag read: *Osteria, Apex Solutions Building.*

His caption was one word: *Grinding.*

I stared at the image. The man who complained about a downsized corporate travel budget this morning was currently eating a sixty-dollar lunch downstairs from his office.

I scrolled down to the comments section.

There was only one.

*Tough day.*

The profile picture attached to the comment was a professional headshot. A woman with sharp cheekbones, wearing a tailored navy blazer.

I tapped her name. *Fiona Kline.*

Her page was semi-public. I didn't need to follow her to see her bio.

It sat right under her name, bold and clear.

*Director of Marketing, Apex Solutions.*

Daniel's department.

Daniel's exact title.

I tapped on her most recent photo. It was a selfie taken in an elevator mirror. She held a coffee cup in one hand, her blazer pushed up to her elbows.

My eyes drifted past her face, landing on her wrist.

She wore a silver watch. A very specific, limited-edition silver watch with a sapphire dial.

The exact same watch Daniel had purchased two months ago.

"A retirement gift for my boss," he had told me back then, slipping the velvet box into his briefcase. "Corporate expense."

"A retirement gift," I murmured to the bustling street.

I took a screenshot of Elena Kline's profile.

I took a second screenshot zooming in on the watch.

I saved both images to the *Receipts* folder.

Locking my screen, I dropped the phone back into my pocket. I turned on my heel and started walking toward the subway station.

Daniel wanted a surprise. He wanted excitement. He wanted me to stop being so boring.

Tonight, I was going to pick my husband up from work.

And I was going to meet the Director of Marketing.