Chapter 3: Secrets in the Group Chat

Early the next morning, my phone rang. A stranger’s friend request popped up. As soon as I accepted, I was added to a small group chat.

The notification jolted me awake. I blinked at the screen, confusion giving way to curiosity. The group name was weird, the profile pics a mix of kids and adults. I hesitated, then tapped accept.

[Wow, girl, did you really get into a fight over this?]

The message flashed, casual and teasing. I didn’t recognize the number, but I knew the type—someone looking to stir things up. I ignored it. Not today.

I didn’t reply.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard, but I let it drop. The group chat buzzed, messages flying. I watched, silent, an outsider in my own life.

Another voice message came through. A child’s sleepy voice: "Is that Daddy? Ellie’s awake. Why isn’t Daddy sleeping with Mommy?"

I could almost hear the sheets rustling. Ellie’s voice was thick with sleep, soft and muffled. It hit me right in the chest—jealousy, exhaustion, or maybe both.

After two minutes, the message vanished—time limit.

The bubble disappeared, leaving only a timestamp. I wondered who deleted it—probably Savannah, quick to cover her tracks. The silence that followed felt loaded.

Savannah’s voice came through, testing the waters. "Ellie just grabbed my phone and started talking half-asleep. You didn’t hear that, right?"

She giggled, but it sounded fake. I pictured her, phone pressed to her ear, eyes darting around. The guilt was there, but so was the smugness.

She giggled and sent a few more messages. "Colton loves Ellie. Kids naturally get attached to him. But don’t worry, okay? I know my boundaries. As long as you’re around, I won’t let Ellie get too close to Colton either."

Her words oozed with fake reassurance, each one sharpened to sting. In the background, I could hear Ellie’s small, uncertain voice. The whole thing felt staged, like a bad sitcom.

In the background, I could faintly hear Ellie whimpering.

The sound tugged at me, no matter how much I wanted to ignore it. I wondered what she’d been told, what promises had been made. Everything felt blurry, unreal.

The group went silent.

No one replied. The air was thick with all the things left unsaid. I stared at the screen, waiting for someone to break the silence. Nothing.

Soon, Colton’s voice came through, hoarse and tired. "Savannah, enough with the nonsense. Ellie, don’t cry. You’ll always be important to Daddy."

His voice was soft, worn out. I pictured him rubbing his temples, trying to keep the peace. The words were supposed to comfort, but all they did was make it worse. I felt something twist inside.

Silence again.

The quiet stretched, heavy and awkward. I scrolled back through the messages, searching for something that wasn’t there. The ache in my chest sharpened.

Even through the screen, I could feel the shift.

I pictured the sideways glances, the whispered comments. Everyone knew, but no one would ever say it out loud. That was the rule—keep up appearances, no matter what.

I laughed. "Sorry, I wandered into your little family group by mistake."

I typed the words fast, fingers shaking. Let them wonder what I meant.

From the guest room, I heard movement. Colton suddenly burst out, looking shocked. "Who added you to that group?"

He stood in the doorway, hair a mess, eyes wide. The panic was real, his voice sharp. I shrugged, playing it cool. Truth was, I cared more than I wanted to admit.

Who else could it be? Colton knew the answer. The thought probably flashed through his mind more than once. He calmed down. "Savannah didn’t mean any harm. She’s always been carefree. She probably just wanted you to feel included."

He tried to smooth it over, his voice gentle. I could see how hard he was working to sound convincing. For a second, I almost bought it.

My fingers idly traced my phone screen. The group name was telling: [Miss Savannah and Her Puppies].

I stared at the name, a bitter laugh escaping. The irony was too much. I wondered how many other chats I wasn’t part of, how many secrets they kept just out of reach.

Colton frowned. "I have to head out today. Savannah just got divorced and hasn’t sorted out Ellie’s preschool yet. I’m just helping out. So, stop with the wild guesses."

He grabbed his keys, voice clipped. He was trying to sound in control, but I heard the edge. The excuses were piling up, thinner every time.

Colton sighed. "There’s really nothing going on between me and Savannah."

He met my eyes, pleading. I wanted to believe him, but the doubt had already settled in. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

I watched him head to the bathroom and start shaving, careful with every stroke.

The sound of water running filled the apartment, a small comfort in the quiet. I watched his reflection, the way he focused on each stroke. Was he trying to impress someone? I wondered.

A message popped up in the group. The little girl seemed to be fully awake, giggling. "Daddy, you have to shave clean, or you’ll poke Ellie!"

Her message was playful, innocent. I pictured her on tiptoe, watching him shave, giggling at his silly faces. For a moment, I wished I could find joy in something so simple.

Colton paused, phone in hand, his eyes soft. God knows what he texted back. Soon, Savannah’s breezy voice rang out in the group: "Puppies, once Ellie’s stuff is handled today, let’s go out for drinks tonight."

Her voice was bright, cheerful. She was already moving on, planning the next thing. The group chat buzzed with excitement, everyone jumping in. I felt like a ghost in my own life.

She added, "Make sure to get permission from the wives at home!"

The joke landed, laughter filling the chat. The guys replied with thumbs up, the women with eye rolls. Everyone knew their lines. I didn’t bother joining in.

The quiet group chat suddenly came alive. One by one, people I knew quickly replied, "I’m in."

The screen filled with responses, the energy infectious. For a second, I almost typed back. But then I remembered—I was on the outside looking in.

Colton left the house. Not long after, he texted me: "Hermès has a new collection out. Want anything?"

The message was casual, almost flippant. A peace offering, wrapped in luxury. I rolled my eyes, tossing the phone aside.

A roundabout peace offering. I didn’t bother replying.

I let the phone sink into the couch cushions, the gesture empty. Sometimes, a fancy bag just isn’t enough.

Right after, a familiar sales associate texted me. "Ms. Foster, your reserved bag has arrived."

Her message was polite, professional. She sent a video—white gloves, a shiny orange box, the bag gleaming under the lights. In the background, I glimpsed Ellie, bouncing with excitement.

In the video, she wore white gloves and held up the bag. Not far away, a little girl with a backpack showed it to the man beside her. "Daddy, this one’s pretty!"

The scene was almost like an ad—Ellie twirling with the bag, Colton crouched beside her, grinning. It looked like a family commercial, the kind you see on TV.

I closed the video and replied, "No need to deliver today. I’ll pick it up myself."

My fingers trembled as I typed. I needed to see for myself, to prove I still existed somewhere in this story.

I couldn’t quite describe the feeling. People like us, even when things fall apart, aren’t supposed to make a scene.