I saw it—the way her eyes lingered on him, the way she laughed just a little too much at his jokes, the way Jason suddenly had so much to say to her. But I told myself it was nothing. Lily was my sister. Jason was my husband.
Then one night, I walked into our master bedroom and saw them—curled up in bed together.
My heart stopped.
“Jason?” My voice barely came out.
Lily sat up immediately, pulling the blanket around her. Jason, on the other hand, didn’t even look guilty.
“Relax, Emma,” he had said, rubbing his temples like I was the one being unreasonable. “Lily fainted. I was just helping her.”
And I—like a fool—had let it slide.
Because Noah was in the room. Because I didn’t want to believe it. Because I was a goddamn idiot.
But now?
Now I knew the truth.
They had been screwing behind my back for who knows how long.
I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head. The worst part? I still loved him. Even after all this, my stupid heart still ached for him. I wanted to scream. To throw something. To hurt the way I was hurting.
And as if the universe wasn’t done tormenting me, my phone rang.