I don’t think I’m doing this to be a good person. I know I’m not a good person. I slept with a married man. I sat at his wife’s table. I acted like a friend when I was actually a predator.

There is no moral high ground left for me to stand on. If I tell Carol, she might hate me. She should hate me. But she also deserves to know that her marriage is a hollow shell, and that the man who is going to be the father to her son is a ghost.

I look at the picture of the receipt one more time. The name on the account is David’s. The location is the airport Marriott. I can see the total amount. It’s enough to make me sick. I think about sending it with a note. “I am sorry for everything. But you have to see this.” It’s so simple. It’s so destructive. It’s the only way to burn this house down so nothing else can live there.

My thumb is hovering over the screen. The air in my kitchen is still. I keep thinking that if I hit send, I will never have to carry this secret again. I will be the one who finally told the truth, even if it destroys the last shred of my own dignity in the process. David doesn’t know I have this. He doesn’t know I’ve figured out the third person. He doesn’t know that his game is finally over.

I wonder what his face will look like when she finally confronts him. I wonder if he’ll try to lie his way out of this one, too. I suspect he will. He’s that kind of man. He will try to make her doubt her own eyes.

He will try to make her think that I’m just a jilted woman who is trying to ruin his life because I’m crazy. But he won’t be able to talk his way out of the Marriott receipts.

I am so tired. I am tired of the lies. I am tired of the coffee dates and the secret texts and the way I have to check my phone to see if I’m allowed to talk to him. I want it to end. I want to be someone who doesn’t have to live in the shadows.

I press my thumb down. The screen flickers as the image attaches to the message. I don’t type a long explanation. I don’t give him the satisfaction of a fight. I just type two words. “Look at this.”