The First Photograph

I burned the eggs on purpose.

Not badly.

Just enough.

Ethan took one bite of breakfast and frowned.

“You burned these.”

I lowered my eyes.

“Sorry, love. I had a nightmare and didn’t sleep well.”

He sighed as if my poor sleep were a personal inconvenience.

Then he grabbed a protein drink and instant noodles from the pantry.

“I’ll eat at the office.”

Before leaving, he stood in front of me with his arms slightly lifted.

A habit.

I straightened his tie.

Smoothed his collar.

Adjusted the watch on his wrist.

Rolex.

Another line I had forgotten to add.

He kissed my forehead.

“Be good today.”

I smiled.

“I always am.”

The moment the door closed, I changed.

Black cap.

Black sun jacket.

Flat shoes.

No jewelry.

No perfume.

I followed him to work.

Ethan stood outside the glass entrance of his office building, checking his watch every few seconds.

When Jenna appeared, his whole face changed.

I had seen that smile before.

I used to think it belonged to me.

Jenna wore a white dress that fell to her ankles, though the look did not suit her. Her features were sharp, glamorous, a little too hungry for innocence.

But I once told her Ethan liked soft, pure, white-dress women.

Apparently, she had taken notes.

Ethan reached for her.

She slid her arm through his.

They walked into the building like a couple who had forgotten to hide.

I lifted my phone.

Click.

The picture was clear.

His hand on her waist.

Her head tilted toward him.

His smile.

Her necklace.

I zoomed in.

My stomach twisted.

The diamond pendant on Jenna’s throat was familiar.

A few months ago, Ethan left a luxury jewelry page open on his laptop. I saw the pendant in his cart and, foolishly, thought he planned to surprise me.

Later, he told me the piece was too expensive.

Instead, he gave me a cheap necklace that turned my skin green by the end of the week.

I had laughed it off.

He was being practical, I told myself.

No.

He had simply bought the diamond for someone else.

That night, Ethan texted me around closing time.

Working late. Boss is killing us. Don’t wait up.

I was parked outside his company with binoculars on the passenger seat.

At 7:14 p.m., he came out holding Jenna’s hand.

At 7:19, they got into the Porsche I bought him.

At 7:47, they arrived at Jenna’s apartment building.

They forgot to close the bedroom curtains properly.

Amateurs.

I attached a pinhole camera to a thin wire and lowered it from the fire escape opposite her window.

The angle caught enough.

Not everything.

Enough.

I retrieved the camera after thirty minutes.

Evidence did not need to be vulgar.

Only undeniable.

When I got home, I sat on the sofa scrolling through videos I did not watch.

At 9:03, Ethan texted.

Finally done. Bringing your favorite spicy lobster.

I stared at the message until the screen dimmed.

Once, that would have melted me.

He remembered what I liked. He worked so hard. He still thought of me.

How easy I had been.

Twenty minutes later, Ethan walked in carrying takeout.

He smelled faintly of Jenna’s perfume beneath the lobster spice.

He sat beside me, opened the box, and began peeling shells with practiced tenderness.

“Boss was unbearable today,” he said. “Meeting after meeting.”

I let him place lobster meat near my lips.

I ate it.

It tasted like ash.

“You work so hard,” I said.

He smiled.

“All for our future.”

That night, after his shower, he leaned over me.

I saw the reddish mark on his neck under poorly blended concealer.

“I’m tired,” I said, turning away. “Maybe in a few days.”

His expression soured.

“You seeing someone else?”

I almost laughed.

Instead, I closed my eyes.

“Good night, Ethan.”