The Truth Hidden In A Folder

BROOKLYN POV:

His familiar scent, a mix of his cologne and our laundry detergent, filled my nostrils as he held me. It used to be comforting, a scent of home and safety. Now, it was a sharp, biting pain, a constant reminder of the betrayal that had just ripped through my life.

I pulled back slightly, my voice thin, almost a whisper. "Grant," I began, my throat tight. "Do you… do you love me?"

He looked at me, his eyes wide and innocent. "Of course, I love you, Brooklyn. What kind of question is that?"

I pressed on, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "Do you love me, and only me? Could you ever love someone else while you' re with me?"

His body stiffened, just for a second, a micro-expression of discomfort that I wouldn't have noticed before. But now, it screamed at me. He leaned in, kissing my forehead, then my lips. "Don' t be silly, baby. Of course not. You' re my wife. We' ve been married for three years. Why are you asking such foolish questions?"

He held my face in his hands, gazing at me with a practiced intensity. "Our marriage, Brooklyn. That' s proof enough, isn' t it?"

My mind flickered back to early in our relationship. The rumors had started then, whispers about Grant' s wandering eye, his reputation for being a ladies' man. I' d ignored them, convinced they were just jealous gossip.

Then, one night, I' d gotten a frantic call from Chelsey. "Brooklyn, I just saw Grant with another woman! At the Blue Orchid hotel, room 302! You have to go, now!"

Panic had seized me. I' d called her back, tears streaming down my face, barely able to breathe. "He' s cheating! Chelsey, he' s cheating on me!"

I' d rushed to the hotel, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. But when I burst into room 302, I hadn' t found Grant with another woman. I' d found Chelsey, her hand raised, slapping Grant across the face.

"You bastard!" she' d screamed at him. "How dare you try to bribe me to keep quiet! Brooklyn deserves to know what kind of man you are!"

Grant had looked humiliated, holding his reddened cheek. Chelsey had turned to me, her eyes full of righteous fury. "He tried to pay me off, Brooklyn. Said he' d pay me to keep his dirty little secrets. He thought I' d betray you."

"I was… I was just going to tell you myself," Grant had stammered, avoiding my gaze. "It was a mistake. A moment of weakness. I promise, it won' t happen again."

Chelsey had scoffed. "A mistake? You call trying to sleep with your girlfriend' s best friend a 'mistake' ?" She' d glared at him. "And Brooklyn, do you really think I, your best friend, would ever try to steal your boyfriend? You know me better than that."

I' d felt a surge of shame, an overwhelming guilt. I' d doubted them, doubted my best friend and my boyfriend. I' d apologized profusely to both of them. From then on, I' d been extra-vigilant in showing them how much I trusted them, how much I needed them both in my life.

Grant often teased me about it afterward, calling me his "little drama queen," his "jealous pipsqueak." He would say, "Honestly, if it wasn' t for you, I wouldn' t even give Chelsey a second glance. She' s too much trouble." And I, feeling foolish for my earlier suspicions, would always rush to his side, soothing him, and defending Chelsey. "She just cares about me, Grant. That' s all."

My thoughts were ripped back to the present video. Grant was pushing Chelsey away, his face grim. "No, Chelsey. We can' t keep doing this. I can' t. I' m getting married in three days. This has to stop. We can' t see each other anymore."

Chelsey' s face crumpled. She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him, desperate. "No! Please, Grant. Just one last time. Please."

A cold shiver ran down my spine. Three days before our wedding. I remembered that week. I' d been so stressed, so overwhelmed with last-minute details, that I' d developed a raging fever. I was confined to bed, barely able to lift my head, unable to reach either Grant or Chelsey. They had both been unreachable, their phones off or going straight to voicemail.

My colleague at work had seen me struggling and, with a knowing wink, said, "Careful, Brooklyn. That' s why they say to guard your husband, guard your home, and guard against your best friend."

I' d been so weak, so feverish, but I' d still managed a weak laugh. "Don' t be ridiculous, Sarah. Chelsey would never betray me. She practically saved my life once."

But now, the image on the screen, the desperate plea of Chelsey, the grim acceptance in Grant' s eyes… It all made a horrifying, sickening kind of sense.