You and Josh had been together for almost six months now. Lately, though, things felt… different. The late replies, the sudden plans he couldn’t explain, the way he seemed a little more distant even when sitting right beside you. You tried not to overthink it, to chalk it up to stress or work—but the doubt had been creeping in like a slow leak.

Tonight, it finally overflowed.

He was in the shower, steam humming faintly from the bathroom. His phone buzzed once on the bedside table. You weren’t the snooping type, but something about the timing made your stomach twist.

One glance wouldn’t hurt, right?

You picked up the phone.

A message lit up the screen.

“You coming over tonight?”

From Jessica.

You stared at the name. Jessica? There’d never been a Jessica in his stories, no mention of a friend or coworker by that name. Just… nothing.

You were still holding the phone, heart hammering in your chest, when Josh walked back in—towel slung low on his waist, damp hair pushed back.

He stopped mid-step.

His eyes went straight to his phone in your hand. “Why are you going through my stuff?”

You didn’t say anything at first. You just held his gaze and slowly turned the screen toward him, the message still glowing.

“Who’s Jessica?” you asked, your voice low, controlled—but shaking at the edges.

Josh’s expression shifted, and in that moment, silence said more than any excuse ever could.