I am sitting on my kitchen floor because the chair feels too steady. The linoleum is cold against my thighs, but I need that. I need something real to ground me while the walls start closing in.

My phone is lying in front of me like a live grenade. It is unlocked. The screen is glowing. There is a photo attached to the message, an image of a Marriott hotel receipt, and my thumb is hovering right over the blue arrow.

Carol is expecting me to send a follow up text about the nursery. She thinks I am a friend. She thinks I am a woman who bought her a soft yellow blanket and genuinely wants to see her succeed as a mother. She has no idea that I spent the last three hours of that party watching her husband’s every muscle. I wasn’t there for the cake. I wasn’t there for the games. I was there because I needed to know if David was capable of looking his wife in the eye while he was busy lying to both of us.

David and I met at a regional sales conference fourteen months ago. I remember the smell of the hotel lobby coffee and the way he leaned into my personal space. He was charming in a way that felt dangerous even then. I knew he was married. I am not going to sit here and pretend I was some naive girl who didn’t understand the rules of the game. I played. I enjoyed it. But I always thought we were a closed loop. A secret kept behind closed doors.

The first time I saw Carol, it was a work dinner. She was radiant. She was six months along, wearing a floral dress that made her look like she was glowing from the inside out.

David introduced us, his hand resting on the small of her back in a way that made my stomach turn. She reached out and grabbed my hand. “David talks about you all the time,” she said. Her smile was so genuine it felt like a slap. I had to force my face into a mask of polite interest. “I’m sure he does,” I said. My voice didn’t even shake. That was the first moment I realized I was better at lying than he was.