Andrew sat at the kitchen table, thoughtfully rubbing his chin with his knuckles. For the fifth time, he was staring at the photos of his fiancée. In them, she appeared joyful and in love. Just not with him.
Next to her in the photos was a man, about Andrew’s age. He discovered they met at work. No, they didn’t work together; the man was a client of the company his girlfriend worked for. She was responsible for securing contracts with various companies and, for some particularly important clients, delivered documents in person. Evidently, this man was important enough for Sarah to become close to him.
Andrew began suspecting his fiancée of infidelity about two months ago. He noticed she spent long periods on her phone, texting someone. When asked who was messaging her so late, she always claimed it was work-related.
Later, she started coming home late, often explaining she had a pile of work to attend to. Yet she’d return not exhausted but rather happy and content.
One day, Andrew stumbled across a receipt from a lingerie store, seemingly having fallen from her pocket. Oddly enough, he never saw any of the new lingerie on her. Contrary to the belief that men overlook new purchases, Andrew noticed everything. He loved to admire Sarah’s beauty when she emerged from the shower, taking note of what she wore. She had bought something new and hadn’t shared it with him, knowing how much he enjoyed seeing her in lace. Her silence was unusual.
Two weeks ago, he saw someone give her a lift home from work. Andrew was never the jealous type and had no problem with a colleague giving her a ride. But this time, completely by accident, he glanced out the window and saw a car stop in the yard. It was as if his sixth sense kicked in, and he waited to see who would emerge. Sarah stepped out, but she remained in the silenced car for over five minutes. Surely, thirty seconds were enough to say thank you.
Feeling like a paranoid man, Andrew decided to avoid undue accusations and hired a private investigator. He was confident the investigator would report back in a few days, affirming Sarah wasn’t seeing anyone else.
But Andrew’s world crumbled today when the investigator handed him the photos. Most could be reasonably explained, except for the one showing her kissing this man. There was no explaining that.
Many would have raised an uproar, perhaps even confronting the man or kicking out the fiancée in disgrace. But Andrew wasn’t one to act impulsively. He wanted Sarah to feel the anxiety he had been enduring. He formulated an excellent plan.
The following day, he bought a spare SIM card and inserted it into an old phone. From that number, he sent Sarah a photo—the one where she was kissing her lover. No message, just the picture.
She read it quickly and immediately tried calling the number, but Andrew declined the call and turned off the phone.
That evening, he awaited her return. She had called him earlier, seemingly to check if all was well, but he didn’t answer, texting her that he was busy.
“Hi, darling,” she chirped as she entered, studying him.
“Hi,” he replied with a smile, helping her with her coat. “How was your day?”
“Good,” she cautiously answered. “And yours?”
“Not bad at all. Come on, let’s eat; I’ve ordered us some dinner.”
Sarah visibly relaxed, but Andrew wasn’t going to let her be at ease for long.
When they sat down to eat, he opened a bottle of wine, pouring them both a glass.
“Have you picked a wedding date?” he asked. Sarah was always debating whether to have it in summer or autumn.
“Yeah, thinking late August. How about that?”
“Great. We should start planning,” Andrew noted, watching her closely. She visibly relaxed. If Andrew was talking about the wedding, then everything must be alright.
“You know,” he mentioned, “I got a strange text today.”
Sarah tensed instantly.
“What text?” she asked, turning pale.
“No idea,” he shrugged. “Someone from an unknown number said they knew a secret. If I paid them, they’d spill the beans. Quite cheeky, don’t you think?”
“Definitely a scam!” Sarah exclaimed. “Block it, and that’s the end of it.”
“I thought about that, but I’m curious what they might scheme up next,” Andrew said with a smirk.
“No need to wait,” Sarah urged. “I’ve heard these scammers hack phones if you continue engaging, and then they steal your card info.”
Holding her breath, Sarah awaited her fiancé’s response. Her main concern was to ensure he blocked that number because she understood perfectly well the secret that devious person referred to. What she didn’t know was that it was Andrew orchestrating this.
“How could they hack the phone?” Andrew laughed. “I won’t click any links or give personal info. Besides,” he paused, “what if this person really knows something important? Might be about business.”
“I wouldn’t take the risk,” Sarah said, breathing heavily. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Don’t think so,” Andrew smiled as he cleaned up.
The entire evening, Sarah hovered around him. Andrew knew she wanted to check the phone to put that number on the blacklist. He had indeed sent himself that message in case she decided to verify, intending to have a bit more fun.
Excusing himself for a shower, he left his phone on the nightstand, confident that Sarah would use the chance to block the number. She did just that.
Later, as she watched TV, thinking the threat had passed, Andrew quietly removed the number from the blacklist and sent himself another message from the kitchen.
“Look, that number’s messaged me again,” he said innocently.
“What?!”
Sarah surely wanted to argue it was impossible since she had fixed it, but she didn’t dare to admit she’d blocked the number.
“Can’t believe it,” he went on, “says someone close is deceiving me and has proof. Isn’t that hilarious?”
“Uh-huh,” Sarah muttered, paling once more. “I need to make a work call; can I use the kitchen?”
“Of course,” Andrew replied with a smile.
Predictably, Sarah tried calling the number again, but Andrew, having sent the message, had already turned off the old phone.
“Did you get through?” he asked when she returned.
“No,” she grumbled, settling into bed.
The next day, she was a bundle of nerves. By lunchtime, she received another text from that number. She attempted to call again, but it went straight to voicemail.
“Soon your fiancé will know everything,” the message declared.
Unable to call, Sarah sent a reply.
“What do you want?”
An answer came before the end of the workday.
“Confess yourself, or I will.”
Walking home felt like a death march. Sarah prepared herself for a confrontation with Andrew, but he was as calm as always. Eventually, she started the conversation.
“Did you get any more messages from that number today?”
“Which number? Oh, that one. No, nothing at all. Why?”
“Oh, just curious.”
As Sarah was drifting to sleep, Andrew sent her another message.
“You have twenty-four hours. Tick-tock. I even have video.”
Though he had no video, Andrew didn’t need one.
Awoken by the sound of her phone, Sarah read the new message and hastily tucked her phone under her pillow.
“Who’s texting you this late?” Andrew asked, climbing into bed.
“Oh, just… spam.”
“These advertisers have no sense of timing,” he sighed. “Messaging practically in the middle of the night.”
The whole next day, Sarah pondered her actions. Yes, she had cheated on Andrew. But was she to blame for being swept away by passion? Max was so different, and things with Andrew had become rather mundane. Yet, there was no future with Max, who was married. But Andrew was her fiancé, and they were planning a wedding. If she confessed, he’d surely cancel everything. If she didn’t, that mysterious person might tell Andrew.
She even considered whether it was Max’s wife who had uncovered the affair. When she confronted Max, he emphatically denied any possibility of his wife knowing and insisted they stop meeting to avoid trouble. Then he left.
As Sarah arrived home from work, she remained indecisive. She hoped maybe the mysterious person was bluffing and wouldn’t tell her fiancé anything. But as they were heading to bed, Andrew received another message.
“Weird,” he commented, “it says there’s one hour left. What could that mean?”
Closing her eyes, Sarah sighed before sitting upright to begin speaking.
“Andrew, I have to confess something to you…”
“What is it, my dear?” he asked with a smile.
“I’ve been unfaithful,” Sarah’s eyes welled with tears. “Forgive me! I have no idea how it happened! I love only you! Keeping it in was suffocating me! I feel so ashamed…”
“I see,” Andrew replied with surprising composure. “But you confessed because you were forced. Or rather, because I forced you.”
“What?” she asked, bewildered.
“I was the one pushing you to confess. I was the one sending those texts to you and myself. Though I’ve never been sadistic, I relished watching you squirm all these days. You can’t imagine how I felt discovering your betrayal.”
“How could you?” she whispered. “We could have just talked it through…”
“We could have. But I thought this way would be the better revenge. Unfortunately, it hasn’t made me feel any better. But at least it’s made things heavier on you. Now…”
Andrew looked at her, smiling triumphantly.
“I think you realize it’s time to go. Also, you’ll inform your parents and friends about the wedding cancellation, and I’ll ensure you’re truthful about the reason without badmouthing me.”
Sarah gazed at Andrew, barely recognizing him. She’d never imagined he was capable of something like this.
Silent, she got up to pack her things. Andrew immersed himself in his favorite movie, striving to numb the ache in his chest. But he knew, in time, it would fade. Just like Sarah would fade from his life.
