Chapter 15

THEN:

Angela perched on the edge of the couch, her fingers entwined in a tight weave. The silence of the room pressed against her like an unwelcome guest, amplifying the drumbeat of her heart. She eyed her phone, its black screen a gateway to potential solace or further doubt.

A deep breath. She reached out, the device cold and slick in her clammy grip. Her thumb hovered, then descended with purpose, pressing the familiar number. The dial tone hummed.

"Sam," she whispered when the line clicked alive.

"Angela?" The name came sharp, tinged with concern. Hearing her best friend's voice made it hard for Angela not to burst into tears. She and Samantha had known each other since elementary school.

"What's wrong? You sound troubled?"

"It's Will." Her voice quivered, betraying the fa?ade of calm she was trying so desperately to uphold. "Something's… off. I can't shake this feeling. I might be going crazy, but I just think that something is going on with him. Tell me I'm not crazy."

"Talk to me." Sam's command cut through the static. "Explain it all to me. What's going on?"

"He stays at work late at nightandcomes up with strange excuses when I ask about receipts I find in his pants pockets when doing laundry that are from restaurants or coffee houses. It's nothing, he says. Just work dinners and meetings. He's a pediatrician. Who is he meeting with? He won't tell. I hear him whisper on the phone or hang up suddenly when I enter a room. He's hiding something; I know it. I can't stand it anymore."

Angela's words tumbled out, a cascade of fear and uncertainty.

"That doesn't sound good, Angela." Sam's tone sharpened, focused as a laser. "And you're sure you're not just in your head, seeing things?"

"No, he's always heading to meetings or going on trips out of town, and he suddenly changed his password for his computer. I guessed the new one, though, as it was our daughter's birthday, but still. Who does that? If they have nothing to hide?" Angela's breaths came rapid, punctuating each revelation. "I'm not imagining things. That's what Will says every time I try to bring it up. Stop saying that. It makes me feel like there's something wrong with me."

"Okay, okay, I hear you. Now, I want you to remain calm for now, and we'll figure this out. You're not alone in this," Sam assured, her voice a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of Angela's worries.

"Thanks, Sam." Angela's grip on the phone loosened, a fragile relief blooming within her chest.

"But Angie, sweetie, you can't let this eat at you. You deserve to know the truth." Sam's voice resonated with an unwavering certainty that seemed to pierce the fog of Angela's trepidation. "To know you're not being crazy, seeing things that aren't there. You need to do something."

"Action, huh?" Angela's words were half-question, half-whisper, as if speaking them louder might make them too real.

"Remember when we were kids? We never let anyone push us around. Not then, not now," Sam recalled, a touch of nostalgia lending warmth to her steady cadence.

A smile tugged at the corner of Angela's mouth. Childhood memories flickered—a shared resilience, a bond unbroken through decades. "You're right," she affirmed, strength creeping into her voice.

"Good. Now, go find out what he's hiding. Do whatever it takes. Go on his computer and go through all his social media accounts. Check for dating sites or other sites where he might be talking to other women. And then, at some point, you have to go on his phone and check that. When he is sleeping, perhaps. You gotta do some work here. Everyone leaves traces in the digital world of cheating. That's where you need to look. No one can hide their affairs online. And keep me updated."

"Okay."

With a click, the line went dead. Silence enveloped the room once more, but Angela no longer felt its oppressive weight. She rose, a sentinel in her own life, eyes narrowing with purpose. The living room stretched before her, each step deliberate as she crossed the expanse of soft carpet.

Angela's shadow stretched before her as she approached the study, a silent harbinger of the storm brewing within. She paused at the threshold, hand on the cold doorknob, gathering the shards of her resolve. With a soft click, the door yielded to her touch and swung open.

The room was still, dust motes dancing in the slanting light through half-drawn blinds. She stepped inside, every sense heightened, scanning for disruptions in the familiar landscape of Will's private sanctum. There it was—the desk, a tableau of chaos amidst the order, strewn with papers, pens, and the silver gleam of his computer.

She approached, a quiet gasp escaping her lips as her fingertips grazed the leather-bound surface of his chair—his throne of secrets. Her heart thrummed against her ribs, urging her on. Angela leaned forward, her breath catching in her throat as she sifted through the topmost papers.

"Receipts, bills… nothing," she whispered, each word punctuated by the rustle of paper.

Her hands, though trembling, were methodical in their quest, betraying none of the gentleness that usually graced her touch. Each document told a story, but not the one she needed to hear. She rifled through them faster now, searching for a telltale sign—a name, a number, anything.

"Come on, Will, where is it?" The words were a hiss of frustration, her patience waning with each fruitless turn of the page. Her fingers found an envelope, unmarked and sealed. A flicker of hope surged, her pulse quickening as she carefully opened the flap, revealing…

"Utilities," she muttered, discarding it with a flutter of disappointment.

Angela pressed on, driven by the gnawing uncertainty that had lodged itself in her mind. She could feel Sam's encouragement like a distant echo, spurring her onward. The last of the pile offered no revelation, just the mundane detritus of daily life.

"Nothing," she breathed, a tremor in her voice belying her outward composure. But she wasn't done—not yet. The computer sat there, a silent witness, waiting to yield its digital secrets. She had been on it many times now, but she had never looked at his social media. Now, it was time. Angela's hand hovered above it, a momentary hesitation before her resolve crystallized into action.

"Time to dig deeper," she affirmed, a newfound edge to her tone, ready to peel back the layers of Will's virtual world.

Angela hunched over the computer, a glint of determination in her bright blue eyes. She clicked it open, its screen illuminating the dim room with a pale glow. Her fingers hovered, then dove to the keys, typing with an urgency that betrayed her composed exterior. The familiar hum of the machine came alive as she navigated past the desktop, straight to the core of Will's online footsteps—the internet browser.

"History," she whispered, her voice steady but laced with a hint of desperation. She found the tab and clicked it.

Nothing.

A blank slate stared back at her; the history had been cleared once again—a digital void where secrets should have been. Angela's heart sank, then pounded with renewed vigor against her ribcage.

"Okay, what are you hiding?" Her tone was sharp, slicing through the silence of the study.

She moved on to social media, clicking through accounts with swift precision. Photos, messages, timelines—all mundane, all painfully ordinary. She found no secret accounts under different names, nor any strange messages in his DMs. He didn't have a dating profile on Facebook, so it wasn't there either. Emails next; her fingers danced across the keys, summoning his inbox to her scrutiny. Promotions, newsletters, work correspondence—every subject line a dead end.

"Damn it, Will." The words were a mere breath, frustration seeping into her resolve like a cold draft.

Angela sat back, the laptop's soft glow casting shadows across her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself, before leaning in once more. A deep breath, and she returned to the hunt, unwilling to let the trail go cold.

Angela's jaw clenched, a physical manifestation of the frustration boiling within her. She refused to succumb to defeat. Inhaling deeply, she steadied her trembling hands and focused on the task at hand. With a click, she summoned the file explorer, its window opening like the entrance to a labyrinth.

"Come on," she muttered under her breath.

Her gaze was sharp, dissecting the screen for any anomaly, any clue that might pierce the shroud of secrecy. Folders named with meticulous banality flashed before her: "Work Documents," "Tax Returns," "Family Photos." Nothing screamed deception; nothing whispered betrayal.

"Nothing," she exhaled, each click a step further into the abyss of the ordinary.

"Hidden files…." The words were a lifeline, an idea to grasp in a sea of digital normalcy. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, commands flowing from her mind to reveal what might lie beneath the surface. Settings adjusted, options changed—she peeled back the layers of the digital facade.

"Where are you?" The intensity of her scrutiny did not waver as folder after folder opened to reveal their contents. "Vacation Plans" held itineraries and hotel bookings, "Recipes" a collection of culinary aspirations never realized.

"Insurance Policies," "Car Maintenance" —each label a beacon of mundane responsibility. Her anticipation, once a flame, flickered in the draught of disappointment. She dove deeper, hoping for a spark, a sign.

"Nothing," she repeated, the word a bitter taste in her mouth. She sank back and returned to the physical world, desperate to find something… anything. She opened the drawers one after the other, frantically searching for a clue, when her hand felt something. A secret compartment? She pulled it open and looked inside. She felt her blood freeze.

What the heck is this, Will?

That's when she heard the front door slam shut and Will's footsteps enter. She stared at what she had found, then heard him call her name.

"Angela? Where are you?"

Quickly, she put the object in her pocket, then snuck out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"Angela?" she heard him call again. "Where are you, honey?"

She pressed away her tears with all the power she had, then forced a smile.

"Up here, Will. Be right down."