Chapter 3: The Dress and the Truth

3

It was Hannah.

She was wearing the dress I’d given her just two days ago.

I’d missed our anniversary, so I blew a month’s pay on the one dress she’d always wanted.

I remembered her video, holding the dress to herself, laughing when I teased her.

"No way! I want to wait for Dave to come home and put it on me—then help me take it off, piece by piece."

Was she really that desperate now? Needing someone else to undress her?

Anger flared in my chest. By the time I snapped out of it, she’d already slipped into the elevator.

I bolted for the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time, sweat prickling down my back.

Second floor—nothing.

Third—still nothing.

Finally, the elevator stopped at four—my floor.

But the hallway was empty.

I wasn’t sure if I felt relief or dread.

Then, I heard knocking from the next corridor over.

I swallowed, forced myself to look.

There was Hannah, knocking. The door swung open—my coworker, Mike Callahan, stood there.

I wanted to charge over, but just then my phone buzzed with a Messenger notification.

"Hey babe, sorry, no signal in the elevator just now. Not tonight, I already have an appointment. And today’s client doesn’t accept threesomes, but tomorrow I’m all yours."

My head throbbed. It was impossible. The woman I’d loved so fiercely—how could she be like this?

I watched as Mike wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her inside.

I stumbled back to my own room, feet dragging, the hotel hallway’s generic art swimming in my vision.

The muffled sounds from next door—the headboard hitting the wall, voices—I dug my nails into my palms, my appetite gone. Tears stung my eyes, but I let them fall.

I called my boss.

"Boss, I’ve decided. I’ll go abroad."

The room felt like it was closing in, the TV’s static filling the silence. I pressed my ear to the wall, praying it was all in my head—but the truth was louder than I could bear.