5
The photos were unsurprisingly all related to Ethan and Jessica – some private, some not.
The private investigator I hired to follow them had told me more than once;
“Your husband and that mistress sure know how to have fun. They spent an hour just taking selfies in there. And that mistress, shamelessly flirting with your husband in broad daylight. Tsk tsk…”
Hearing those words, I could only feel bitter irony.
Ethan and I had met in college through a mutual friend. In my memory, he had always been a reserved, almost shy man. He blushed many times while pursuing me, stumbling over his words when confessing.
I have a calm, cool personality. Friends say I’m unsentimental and only care about benefits. Ethan’s personality complemented mine we were a perfect match.
With everyone’s encouragement, Ethan and I officially got together. Our relationship progressed smoothly, almost boringly so. I would occasionally ask Ethan if he found being with me boring. He would always reply tenderly:
“How could it be boring? A peaceful life is true happiness. I think things are great as they are.”
I never imagined his gentle demeanor was just a facade. Only Jessica could tear off that mask, revealing the raw, ugly Ethan underneath.
That night I felt melancholy, swirling a glass of champagne as I sat on the couch. Jason seized the opportunity to comfort me, kneeling by my feet.
“I’ll do anything to make you happy.”
Half–jokingly, I said: “Alright then, go kill Jessica and Ethan. If they died, I’d be happy for half my life.”
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