Andrew was sitting in the kitchen, thoughtfully rubbing his chin with his knuckles. He had looked at the pictures of his fiancée for the fifth time. In them, she appeared happy and in love. But not with him.
The man next to her in the photos was about Andrew’s age. He found out that they met at work. No, they didn’t work together; this man was a client of the company where his fiancée was employed. She handled contracts with various companies and personally delivered documents to some particularly important clients. Apparently, this man was important enough for Emma to get close to him.
Andrew began to suspect his fiancée of infidelity roughly two months ago. He noticed she was frequently absorbed in her phone, texting someone. When he asked who it was so late, she always replied it was work-related.
Then she started coming home late, explaining that work had piled up. Yet, she returned not looking exhausted, but pleased and cheerful.
Andrew accidentally found a receipt from a lingerie store. It must have fallen out of her pocket. It seemed insignificant, except he hadn’t seen any new lingerie. There’s a notion that men don’t notice new things, but Andrew wasn’t one of them. He adored looking at Emma, admired her when she would elegantly step out of the shower, and noticed what she wore. She bought new lingerie and didn’t flaunt it. She knew he loved seeing her in lace. But now, silence.
Two weeks ago, he saw someone drop Emma home. Andrew was never the jealous type and didn’t mind if a colleague gave her a lift. But this time, he peered out and saw a car stop in the driveway. A sixth sense kept him watching. Eventually, Emma emerged, but only after sitting in the parked car for more than five minutes. A simple thank you wouldn’t have taken that long.
Feeling he was becoming paranoid, Andrew hired a private investigator so he wouldn’t hurl baseless accusations. He was certain the detective would come back in a few days, assuring him all was well with Emma, that she wasn’t seeing someone or cheating.
But today, his world crumbled when the detective handed him photos. While most could be explained away, one, where she kissed the man, was unmistakable evidence of betrayal.
Many would make a scene, give the man a beating, and throw the fiancée out in disgrace. But Andrew wasn’t like that. He wanted Emma to feel the anxiety and worry he felt. He came up with a cunning plan.
The next day, he bought a SIM card second-hand and inserted it into his old mobile. From this number, he sent Emma the photograph. The very one where she kissed her lover. There was no message, just the photo.
Emma quickly read the message. She immediately tried to call the number, but Andrew declined the call and switched off the phone.
That evening, he awaited her return eagerly. She called him during the day, likely to check if everything was okay, but he ignored it, replying that he was busy.
“Hi, darling,” she entered the apartment, studying him intently.
“Hi,” he smiled, helping her with her coat. “How was your day?”
“Oh, it was fine,” she replied cautiously. “And yours?”
“Normal, all good. Let’s have dinner, I ordered us some food.”
Emma sighed with relief. But Andrew planned not to let her relax.
When they sat to eat, he opened a bottle of wine and poured it into their glasses.
“Have you decided on the wedding date?” he asked. Emma wavered between a summer or autumn ceremony.
“Yes. I think late August. How does that sound?”
“Great. We should start planning,” he said, watching her intently. Emma completely relaxed, thinking if he was talking about the wedding, everything must be fine.
“You know,” he began, “I got a strange message today.”
He watched with amusement as Emma tensed.
“What message?” she asked, her face turning pale.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “someone from an unknown number said they have a secret. And if I pay, they’ll reveal it. Can you imagine the scam?”
“Of course, it’s a scam!” Emma immediately exclaimed. “Block it, and it’s over.”
“I thought to do that, but I’m curious what they’ll come up with next,” Andrew said with a grin.
“Don’t wait,” she leaned forward, urging him. “I’ve heard it’s some scam; they hack into your phone if you keep texting and then steal money from your account.”
Emma held her breath, waiting for his response. She needed him to block that number. She had a good idea which secret the messenger referred to. She just didn’t know it was Andrew all along.
“How would they hack a phone,” Andrew laughed. “I’m not clicking on any links, nor sharing personal info. Besides,” he paused, “what if they really do have important information? Maybe something about business.”
“I wouldn’t risk it,” Emma said, her breathing uneven.
“I doubt it,” he chuckled, clearing the table.
The whole evening his fiancée hovered around him. Andrew knew she wanted to get his phone to block that number. For good measure, he texted himself the message in case she wanted to check, and decided to entertain himself further.
Announcing a shower, he left his mobile on the table. Confident, Emma seized the opportunity to block the number. So it happened.
While she relaxed in front of the TV, thinking the threat had passed, Andrew removed the number from the block list and, retreating to the kitchen, sent another message to himself.
“Look, this number messaged again,” he said innocently.
“What?!”
Dasha clearly wanted to say it couldn’t be, admitting she blocked the number, but couldn’t bring herself to own up.
“Guess what,” he continued, “it says someone close is deceiving me. And they have proof. Funny, right?”
“Yeah,” Emma replied, her face turning pale again. “I need to call someone for work, can I use the kitchen?”
“Of course,” Andrew smiled at her.
Naturally, Emma tried again to call the number. But Andrew had switched off the phone after sending the message.
“Did you connect?” he asked when Emma returned.
“No,” she muttered, lying down to sleep.
The next day, Emma was on edge. By midday, another message came from the same number. She immediately tried calling, but again, the phone was off.
“Soon your fiancé will know everything,” the message taunted.
Unable to connect, she sent a reply.
“What do you want?”
By day’s end, she received an answer.
“Confess, or I will.”
Emma walked home feeling doomed. She anticipated a confrontation with Andrew, but he remained calm as ever. So she broached the topic herself.
“You didn’t get any messages from that number today, did you?”
“Which number? Oh, that one. No, nothing. Why?”
“No reason. Just curious.”
As Emma drifted to sleep, Andrew sent another message.
“You have twenty-four hours. Time is ticking. I have videos too.”
Andrew didn’t actually have any videos, but he didn’t need them.
Awoken by the chime of her phone, Emma read the message and quickly hid her mobile under her pillow.
“Who messages you so late?” Andrew asked, lying back.
“Oh, just some… advertising,” she stumbled.
“These marketers have no tact,” he sighed, “sending out messages nearly midnight.”
All the next day, Emma wrestled with her options. Yes, she cheated on Andrew. But was she at fault for succumbing to passion? Max was so different, while her relationship with Andrew had grown too simple. However, with Max, a future wasn’t possible as he was married. Meanwhile, she was set to marry Andrew. Admitting the affair might break everything, but staying silent held its own risks if Andrew learned from someone else.
She even entertained the idea that Max’s wife found out and told him in a fit. But Max dismissed the idea, certain his spouse knew nothing and wishing to avoid trouble. So he suggested they stop seeing each other.
Emma returned home from work still uncertain. She relied on hope: maybe the mysterious messenger was bluffing. However, when bedtime came, another message reached Andrew.
“Strange,” he mused, “it says there’s one hour left. I wonder what that means?”
Emma closed her eyes, exhaled, and settling comfortably on the bed, began to speak.
“Andrew, I need to confess something…”
“What is it, darling?” he asked with a smile.
“I cheated on you,” tears welled up in Emma’s eyes. “Forgive me! I don’t know how it happened! I only love you! I just couldn’t keep quiet. It’s eating me from within! I’m so sorry…”
“I see,” Andrew said surprisingly calmly. “But you’re confessing because someone made you. Rather, I made you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, bewildered.
“I made you confess. I sent those messages. I was never a sadist, but I’ve relished these days watching you squirm. Because you can’t imagine how I felt discovering your betrayal.”
“How could you?” she whispered. “We could have just talked…”
“We could’ve. But I chose revenge. It didn’t ease my pain, unfortunately. But it troubled you. Well, now…”
Andrew glanced at her victoriously.
“You know it’s time to leave. Oh, and you’ll handle informing our families and friends about the wedding cancellation. I’ll ensure you give them the true reason, not portray me as the villain.”
Emma looked at Andrew, unable to reconcile this side of him.
Silently, she rose and started packing. Andrew turned on his favorite movie, trying to distract himself from the heartache that lingered. But he knew that in time, it would fade. Just as Emma would from his life.
