From off-screen, a chorus of male voices jeered.
"Yo, is the sister-in-law checking in?"
"Matthew, you've been hiding her for ages. When do we get to meet her?"
"Yeah, Matt, stop holding out on us."
Then—a hush.
"Shh, shut up. Julia is right here."
My blood froze.
On the screen, Matthew glanced nervously to his side. He lowered the phone, turning away from the camera, but the microphone caught every word.
He leaned toward someone—toward *her*—his voice dropping to a soothing murmur.
"Ignore them. They're talking nonsense. It's just the housekeeper calling about chores."
*The housekeeper.*
He pulled back. Realized the call was still connected.
Hung up.
A moment later, a message popped up.
*Friends just joking around. Don't overthink it.*
Then another.
*Stop asking so many questions when I'm out. It's annoying.*
*Annoying.*
Bitterness coated my tongue like bile, but a laugh bubbled up anyway. Cold. Hollow.
Five years. I ask where he is *twice*, and I'm "annoying."
I finally understood. His secrecy. His lack of consideration. His refusal to acknowledge me. It wasn't just his personality.
He simply didn't love me.
Now that Julia was back, I was nothing more than trash to be discarded.