The Pink Car of Betrayal

Gretchen Rivas POV:

I stood up, and Donovan's eyes immediately fell on the gift box I'd placed on the coffee table. His face lit up. "What's this? Another surprise?" He walked towards it, a boyish excitement in his voice.

"It's for you," I said, my voice flat. "Your birthday present."

He chuckled, picking it up. "My birthday isn't for another week! You're always so thoughtful, my love." His eyes twinkled. He was so oblivious. He'll find out soon enough, I thought, a cold satisfaction spreading through me.

"Open it on your birthday," I told him, a hint of steel in my voice.

He carefully placed the box on the mantelpiece, next to a framed photo of us from our wedding. "I will," he promised, his eyes full of affection. "You make me the happiest man alive."

He took my hand, pulling me towards the door. "Come on. Dinner awaits."

We went down to the underground garage. There it was. The "Soulmate" car, gleaming in the fluorescent lights, its pink paint almost blinding. His ultimate betrayal, now parked in our home.

"Want to take her for a spin?" he asked, his eyes practically bugging out of his head with pride.

I walked slowly around the car, my breath catching in my throat. The custom license plate: "GRETCHEN." My name. Stamped on the vehicle of his infidelity. My body started to tremble, a cold dread seeping into my bones. I saw Keri's face, her mocking smile, her hand on Donovan's thigh in the video. All inside my car.

Donovan saw my hesitation. "What is it, baby? Don't you like it?" He sounded genuinely worried.

I shook my head. "No, it's beautiful," I lied. "It's just… I'm not used to driving such a big car. I haven't driven in the city in a while." My excuse was weak, but he bought it.

He took the keys from my trembling hand. "No problem! I'll drive. I'll even teach you. Think of all the places we'll go." He opened the passenger door with a flourish.

I pulled out a sanitizing wipe, scrubbing the sumptuous leather of the passenger seat before I sat down. I scrubbed and scrubbed, as if I could erase Keri's presence, her scent, her touch. It was pointless.

Donovan laughed again. "It's a brand new car, honey. Why are you wiping it down?"

"I don't like other people touching my things," I said, my voice clipped. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning.

His smile faltered. A flicker of something—embarrassment? fear?—crossed his face. He quickly cleared his throat. "Right. Well, let's go. That truffle pasta won't eat itself."

He prattled on about the Michelin-starred restaurant, the exquisite menu, the perfect wine pairing. I barely heard him. My hand brushed against something hard under the seat. A lipstick. Fuchsia.

I picked it up. He saw it. His eyes darted nervously. His face flushed a deep crimson. "Oh, that! It's… a new marketing gimmick. A popular shade. Keri must have left it." He stumbled over his words.

I held it up, a faint, chilling smile on my lips. "Is this also a gift, Donovan?"

He stammered, "No, no! Just a sample. Sales team probably put it there by mistake."

I scoffed internally. I twisted the cap. The lipstick tip was worn down, clearly used. I looked at him, my gaze piercing. "I hate secondhand things, Donovan," I said softly. "Men, too."

He flinched, as if struck. His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. "Gretchen, please! I'm so sorry. I..." His voice was thick with panic.

I didn't respond. I simply raised my hand and tossed the lipstick into the passing trash can on the street corner as we idled.

My phone buzzed. Keri. 'Oops, left my lipstick in the Soulmate again! Didn't want to mess up my new purse, hehe. Tell Donovan I'll pick it up tomorrow morning, will you?'

I looked at Donovan, his face a mask of pleading regret. It was all a performance. It was all so utterly meaningless.

I turned my head, watching the city lights blur past. I just wanted this day to be over. I wanted to celebrate my last birthday with him, then get out.

We pulled up to the restaurant. He opened my door, a charming, devoted husband. Bystanders cooed. "What a gentleman!" "He's so in love!" "She's so lucky!"

Donovan preened, soaking in the admiration. He ushered me inside. A table laden with my favorite dishes awaited us. Cooked by someone else. Paid for by him. The ultimate illusion.