That day, Sofia had taken Calvin to our house. She had called me in advance, asking when I'd be home.
I had bought her favorite necklace, hoping to surprise her, and lied, saying I was working late.
But when I opened the door, I saw them in the living room, locked in a passionate kiss.
Their clothes were half-off, their hands exploring each other.
Furious, I grabbed a broom and swung it at Calvin.
But before I could reach him, he collapsed to the ground.
Ignoring my questions, Sofia immediately called an ambulance and accompanied him to the hospital, where he was diagnosed with heart disease.
That night, she ran home angrily to blame me, saying that if I hadn't frightened him, Calvin wouldn't have had a heart attack and almost died.
But she was blind and I didn't see her lover at all. Calvin's heart had failed because of their intense encounter, not because of me.
In a fit of rage, I left home, never to return.
Sofia's fingers hovered over my name in her contacts before she unexpectedly tapped it.
I held my breath. Before I died, I had set up an automatic voicemail message on my phone, then flung it into the woods.