𝙉𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣

My name is Y/N. I’m 25, a calm, observant graphic designer who always trusted patterns until one broke. My husband, Nathan, 28,is a sharp-tongued defense attorney, always composed, always convincing. He is your husband and always calls you love. People saw us as perfect. But perfect is quiet, and sometimes too quiet hides something loud. I found out when his phone lit up while he was in the shower. A message from someone named Camille said, “Last night was perfect. I miss you already.” My stomach turned. He told me he was working late. I stayed silent, let the truth unfold. Days passed. Patterns shifted. Excuses grew thinner. When I had enough, tears were dropping from my face. I waited until dinner. I cooked. I smiled. I let him speak first. Then, I dropped the message in front of him. He reached for it with that same fake calm. I slapped him across the face before he could lie. “Don’t insult me,” I said. “Not tonight.” . Think about it before there might be a possibility that someone is obsessed and is framing him. ₊˚⊹♡ ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎