I think she’s new. Came from the city. What’s going on, Ellie?”
Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“I think they’re having an affair. I’m almost certain.”
There was a pause on the line, then Susan swore, quietly but distinctly.
“Are you sure? Maybe it’s just a business lunch.”
“Ninety percent sure. He bought a sapphire necklace yesterday. He hasn’t bought me anything like that in years. And today they left for lunch together. You do the math.”
“Oh, God, Ellie! What are you going to do? Are you going to confront him?”
Eleanor looked at the glass and concrete building. She vividly remembered the day she signed the papers to sell her grandmother’s condo. Andrew had been glowing. “We’re going to make it, we’re a team.” Her inheritance, her faith in his dream, her unwavering support.
“Nothing yet,” she replied, surprised by her own calm. “I want to know everything, down to the last detail, before I make a decision.”
That evening, Andrew came home earlier than usual with a bouquet of her favorite orchids—rare, expensive, almost translucent. A few years ago, this would have melted her heart.
“Ellie,” he smiled that familiar, guilty smile, tilting his head slightly.
His tie was off, the top button of his shirt undone. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck—a gesture he only made when he was lying or uncomfortable.
“Let’s go out to dinner Saturday.” His eyes wouldn’t meet hers. They darted around the room, landing on the clock, the wallpaper—anywhere but on her. “That Italian place, Mario’s, where we celebrated your birthday last year. Remember?” he continued, shifting his weight from foot to foot like a teenager on a first date.
Eleanor took the flowers, feeling their unexpected weight. Andrew smelled of that same sweet, feminine perfume. He hadn’t even bothered to shower before coming home to his wife.
“Of course,” she smiled, clinically noting the rapid pulse in his neck. A doctor’s habit, now second nature.
Andrew’s hand rested awkwardly on her shoulder. A brief, hesitant touch.
“I made a reservation for seven,” he said, pulling away too quickly. “It’s been a while since we had a proper date.”
“It’s been a while since we had a proper marriage,” Eleanor thought, picturing the sapphire necklace on his mistress’s neck.
“I’d love that,” she said aloud, surprising even herself with how sincere it sounded.
Three days passed after the dinner at Mario’s. The meal had been an agonizing performance. Forced smiles. Pointless reminiscences. Glasses of red wine that Eleanor barely touched. Expensive dishes that stuck in her throat. Watching Andrew play the part of a caring husband was unbearable. Yet she smiled, kept up the conversation, and didn’t even flinch when he took her hand. All that remained in her memory was the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint, lingering aroma of another woman’s perfume. And the constant thought: he touches her the same way.
Monday morning greeted her with a headache. It was so familiar that Eleanor didn’t even reach for the aspirin. A throbbing pain in her temples and at the base of her skull, like a tight band squeezing her head. She slowly opened her eyes, her mouth dry. Waves of nausea rolled over her, but Eleanor recognized it: this pain wasn’t just physical. It was her body screaming from an emotional wound. The splitting headache was a reminder: she had to decide what to do next.
The sound of running water from the bathroom. Her husband’s footsteps in the hall.
“Breakfast is on the table,” Andrew called out as he passed the bathroom door. “Scrambled eggs with tomatoes, your favorite.”
His voice was so casual. As if there were no perfume on his shirt, no sapphire necklace on a tall brunette. Eleanor peered out of the bathroom, drying her face with a towel. The rough fabric scraped her skin.
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry. It’s going to be a long day, early rounds.”
“Suit yourself,” Andrew shrugged.
She noted it: no disappointment, only relief in his eyes. He didn’t even try to insist. In the past, he wouldn’t have let her leave without breakfast. He would have lingered. Asked how she was feeling.
When the front door closed behind him, Eleanor slowly sank to the cool tile of the bathroom floor, her back against the wall. The tears she’d been holding back finally came. They were quiet, bitter tears, nothing like the dramatic hysterics of a movie. She was mourning not just his affair, but fifteen years of her life, wasted on a man who could so easily discard everything they had built. Somewhere, a faucet dripped. A steady, methodical rhythm, drop by drop, like time slipping away.
A phone call brought her back to reality. Susan.
“Ellie, are you okay? This is the third time I’ve called,” the sounds of a busy hospital corridor echoed through the line.
“Yeah, sorry,” Eleanor said, hastily wiping her face, though her friend couldn’t see her. “I was just thinking. How’s your shift?”
“To hell with my shift!” Susan’s voice was impatient. “I did some digging. This Victoria has only been at Andrew’s company for four months. Got a management position right away, with barely any experience. Can you guess why she was hired?”
“I can guess,” Eleanor replied quietly, the admission making the ache in her chest even worse.
“Okay, that’s it,” Susan said decisively. “Either you talk to him, or I’m coming over there to smash some plates. I don’t like how calm you’re being about this.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“I’m not being calm, Susan. I’m thinking. I need to know more. His company is my business, too. My grandmother’s inheritance is its foundation.”
“Know what?” Susan was practically shouting. “That he’s sleeping with this woman? That he’s planning to divorce you? Or that he’s embezzling money from the company?”
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