Chapter 11: The Plan

The ceiling fan creaked overhead, casting slow-moving shadows across the bedspread. I remembered the early years—Sunday mornings tangled together, Netflix marathons, burnt pancakes and shared dreams. Now, we lay worlds apart, the silence between us so deep I thought it might swallow me whole.

What kind of messed up life is this? I don’t want this woman anymore.

My hand curled into a fist under the covers. The anger simmered, hard and sharp, cutting through the numbness. I didn’t want to be pitied, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be lied to.

I’m definitely getting a divorce.

The word echoed in my head. I mouthed it to the darkness, the finality of it settling in my bones. It almost felt like relief.

But first, I have to find out who the jerk is who cheated with my wife.

There had to be a face behind this betrayal. Someone she trusted enough to risk everything. The urge to know—to see—burned brighter than the pain.

Those two—neither of them will get off easy.

I made a silent promise to myself: I’d get the truth, no matter what it took. I wouldn’t let them walk away without consequences.