Winifred stood rooted to the spot, still processing.
I was already on the phone with the cleaning service.
"Sanchez Group, executive office. Clear out everything inside."
Asher knew better than anyone that I couldn't stand anything unclean. The moment something was soiled, I threw it away.
Then I turned and walked out.
I'd barely gotten back in the car when his call came through.
The name on the screen read "My Husband Who Loves Me Most." The irony sat like acid on my tongue.
The moment I picked up, his voice came through, cool and smooth, not a single note out of place.
"Babe, what made you send a cleaning crew to the office? Did the janitors not do a good enough job? Was something bothering you?"
His little secretary sure didn't waste any time running to him.
I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and kept my voice perfectly even.
"I just felt like the things I'd left there had gotten old. Dirty. It was time to throw them out."
Asher swallowed audibly. His laugh came out stiff.
"Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets. I'm heading home soon. Love you."
Something deep in my chest clenched so tight I couldn't breathe.
Men really were born actors.
Love was just another thing they knew how to split between too many people.
Back home, I opened the social media account Mia had sent me. Winifred Taylor's account.
It was filled with snapshots of her daily life.
Two months ago, she'd posted:
My amazing boss brought me my favorite boba tea. So warm and thoughtful!
In the photo, she was holding up her half-finished boba tea to Asher's lips, and he was smiling, leaning in to drink from the straw.
Asher hated anything sweet. He'd never once gone with me for dessert.
Yet here he was, sipping Winifred's boba tea like it was the most natural thing in the world.
It wasn't that he didn't have it in him. He just didn't have it in him for me.
I laughed bitterly and kept scrolling.
One month ago, she'd posted:
He made me a homemade meal with his own hands. The best man in the whole world!
Elegant sushi rolls, neatly sliced fruit, imported wagyu beef, all arranged with care.
My fingertips went cold.
Those were the homemade meals I'd prepared for Asher. He always had stomach problems, and I worried about his health, so I'd taught myself to cook. Every single day I came up with something new for him.
I never imagined it all ended up in someone else's stomach.