“Hey, honey, don’t worry. I’m here at Westfield Mall talking about a project. I’ll be back later.”
But over the phone, I heard a dog barking.
Daniel was terrified of dogs. None of our friends kept dogs—except one person. His first love, Isabella Reed. After being abused and divorced by her foreign husband, she had returned to live alone in the States, and out of loneliness, she kept a husky.
From then on, whenever I called to check in, Daniel would either say he was at Riverside Apartments or at Central Park. But the GPS always exposed him—it was Westfield Mall.
The contradictory locations revealed his impatience. Sometimes, even after spending the night with me, he would still rush to Westfield Mall in the middle of the night. I had to admit, he worked hard for that affair.
The influence of a first love, a so-called “white moonlight,” truly is powerful.
The next morning, when Daniel got up with dark circles under his eyes, I had already called my mother-in-law Margaret Carter and the rest of the family. I laid out the divorce papers and the GPS tracker on the table.
“Daniel Carter, sign the divorce papers. Otherwise, don’t blame me for exposing your GPS history to everyone.”