I host a relationship advice stream. That night, I connected with a female caller. She said she’d fallen for someone, but he was married. It wasn't until I clicked on her profile page, checking out her videos, that I realized the guy she was talking about looked disturbingly familiar. Wasn't this mystery man my own picture-perfect, couldn't-do-enough-for-me husband? 1 I’m a relationship advice streamer. Every night, I slap on a silly face filter and use a voice modulator to chat live with followers, helping them figure out their problems. Tonight's caller was a regular, one of my long-time fans. But what she said blew up the chat and knocked me completely off balance. “I don’t believe in limiting myself. If I like someone, that’s all that matters.” “So, okay, I’m not technically the other woman yet, but I might be soon, and honestly? I don’t care. As long as I’m happy.” The chat immediately filled with question marks. People were seriously questioning her sanity. I couldn’t help but push back a little, pointing out that knowingly becoming the other woman hurts people. But instead of reflecting, she doubled down. “You can’t force feelings. It’s not like I’m demanding he marry me. Is it wrong to chase your own happiness?” What kind of twisted logic was this? “So, what if another woman came along and stole your husband? You’d be okay with that?” She paused for maybe two seconds before firing back, all self-righteous, “Yeah, as long as we split the assets fairly.” Of course. So, it really was about the guy’s money. Trying to sound romantic while being completely mercenary. She kept spewing her justifications in the stream, and meanwhile, the viewer count was skyrocketing. I quickly grabbed my phone and used my burner account to check out her profile. I had to see who this woman was. How could anyone be so shameless? Her profile pics showed her smiling sweetly, looking blissfully happy. The man next to her always had his back to the camera, never showing his face. The only identifying feature visible was on the back of his neck – four moles, forming a perfect little square. That pattern sparked a flicker of recognition, making my heart pound erratically. I scrolled through more of her posts. Always selfies of her, followed by shots of a man’s arm, his leg, other body parts. Never his face. Coincidentally, her IP address showed she was in the same city as me. After quickly hitting ‘follow’ from my burner account, I forced myself back to the stream, trying to pull myself together. The chat was a waterfall of comments. The woman was still talking nonstop, clearly pleased with herself, thinking she’d won me over with her “logic.” I looked at her profile picture and let out a cold, genuine laugh. “You know people are going to drag you for this. You know your morals are messed up. You’re blowing up a family and calling it love? Knowingly being the other woman? What kind of person are you?” Even then, she argued back, accusing me of using my platform to cyberbully her. I wasn’t having it. I laid into her with righteous anger, then decisively cut her connection. Virtual gifts flooded the screen. The chat was full of applause. I’ve been streaming for three or four years, and this was the first time I’d encountered someone so brazen about being the third party. After she was gone, I took a few more calls, but my heart wasn’t in it. All evening, I kept seeing flashes of them together, kept picturing those four damn moles. As soon as I could reasonably end the stream, I logged into my burner account and messaged her. I pretended to be a fellow mistress, complaining about how nobody understood our situation, telling her I felt a connection, like we were kindred spirits. It only took a couple of hours for her to start trusting me. She even started spilling details about the guy’s family situation, his age, his job. Married three years, no kids, a dynamic where the wife was the main breadwinner… Every little clue seemed to point in one direction. The man she was talking about was my own doting, perfect husband. Mark. 2: The Confirmation After chatting for a bit, I told her I needed to sign off and get some rest. Not long after, Mark came home. He immediately started giving me a shoulder rub, sweet as ever, even running water for me to soak my feet. He always said I worked too hard, that this helped me relax. Honestly, the idea of him cheating seemed impossible. Two years ago, when my grandpa was hospitalized, Mark was a rockstar. He was there constantly, helping out so much that even the doctors commented on what a devoted grandson-in-law he was. Every holiday, every birthday, he’d be at my parents’ place days early, planning meals, bringing thoughtful gifts for them. We never even fought. How could he be cheating? I stared at him, lost in thought. Mark seemed to notice my gaze and offered a small smile. His hand, still damp, lightly tapped my nose. “Looks like my wife is exhausted. You’re totally zoned out.” He sat beside me, pulling me into a hug. He reminded me our anniversary was the day after tomorrow, whispering he had a surprise planned. The next day, he took me to a high-end jewelry store bright and early. A salesperson approached us eagerly, a dazzling smile on her face. That face… It was the woman from my stream last night! Jessica! Her eyes flickered past me, landing on Mark beside me. I caught it out of the corner of my eye. Mark’s expression didn’t change, but the tiny muscle twitching under his eye gave him away. So, they definitely knew each other. Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I followed her into the main showroom. I kept my head down, pretending to browse the display cases, but I was watching them both like a hawk. They were chatting and laughing easily, completely ignoring me. I looked up. “Your name’s Jessica, right? You’ve been really helpful. Can I get your contact info? I’ll definitely come back to you next time I’m looking for jewelry.” She hesitated for a split second, then agreed. Later, I casually scrolled through her professional Instagram – clearly a work account. The latest post: Pushing for my sales target! Free stainless steel tumbler with purchase! Plus, you get me as your bonus. Attached was a cute, flirty selfie. So, Mark’s idea of an anniversary gift was actually just helping Jessica hit her sales quota! Fury turned into retail therapy. I pointed at several expensive pieces, racking up a hefty bill. Right there, in front of both of us, Mark had to play the big shot, emptying out his personal savings account to cover it. 3: The Alliance That night, I hopped back onto my burner account and messaged Jessica. She was practically gloating, bragging about how clueless his wife (me!) was, totally oblivious that she’d just helped Jessica hit her sales target. Called me an idiot. Playing the part of the envious fellow mistress, I asked what her next move was. Surely, she didn’t want to stay hidden forever? I fanned the flames: “I’m so jealous you actually get to see his wife! I keep pushing my guy to divorce her, but he just avoids the topic. I don’t even know if I should keep waiting.” Sure enough, less than two minutes later, Jessica sent a barrage of voice messages. She urged me to fight for “true love,” not to be scared off by society’s judgment. Back and forth we went, becoming “besties” who shared everything. Our little "True Love Alliance." And Jessica got bolder. She started posting pictures of herself with Mark on her work Instagram more often. Still careful never to show his face, though. I silently ‘liked’ every single one. 4: The Confrontation Today was our wedding anniversary. Mark had ordered a cake first thing in the morning, promising to cook me a special dinner when he got home from work. But by evening, he still wasn’t back. Then came the phone call. A sudden work emergency, he claimed. He had to work late, couldn’t make it home. He promised to make it up to me another day. I asked calmly, “Mark, are you absolutely sure you’re not coming home tonight?” I could hear frantic typing on his end. He was too “busy” to even really answer, just mumbled a few excuses and hung up quickly. My phone pinged with a notification. It was Jessica, messaging my burner account. Bragging. Saying her boyfriend ditched his boring wife to be with her, how incredibly romantic and sweet it all was. I knew how vile she was, but I played along, praising her boldness. Ever since that jewelry store incident, it was like Mark had gotten a taste of freedom and couldn't get enough. He was becoming reckless. He came home less and less. Our arguments became more frequent. Jessica grew even more daring, sneakily snapping pictures of his back, posting them to her stories, then deleting them five minutes later. Completely disregarding me. Fine. If that’s how they wanted to play it, I’d just add fuel to the fire. I kept up the charade with Jessica on my burner account, feeding her fake updates about my own "affair." I told her I'd confronted the wife, caused a huge scene, and that they were definitely getting divorced now. I filled my messages with fake joy about finally "making it official." Predictably, Jessica couldn't stand it. The next day, I was in the kitchen making lunch when I heard a sharp knock at the door. There she stood, flawlessly made-up, poured into a tight, dark gray dress that showed off every curve. Before I could react, she swept past me like she owned the place, plopped down on my sofa in her high heels. One shoe dangled precariously off her toes. “Hi. I’m Jessica. Mark’s partner. I believe we’ve met.” Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, a sneer playing on her lips. “Honestly, I don’t see what he ever saw in you. You’re nothing special.” “He doesn’t love you anymore. There’s no point in dragging this out. Just be smart, sign the divorce papers, and let yourselves move on with some dignity.” Seeing my silence, she grew bolder, launching into a speech about her deep, unbreakable bond with Mark. Anyone listening would think I was the homewrecker. “You’re just a housewife. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll hurry up and—” SMACK! I didn’t let her finish. I swung my hand with everything I had. My palm stung. A bright red handprint blossomed on her right cheek. Damn, that felt good. “You hit me!” Her eyes widened in fury, and she lunged at me, teeth bared. I’m taller, and her heels made her clumsy. I easily shoved her back onto the sofa and started letting her have it. Jessica shrieked that she was calling the cops. I stayed calm. “Go ahead. Call them. Let’s see who they arrest – me, or the woman breaking into someone’s home to harass them.” “If he really loved you, would he let you be the dirty little secret? You think you found true love, but you’re just a fling to him.” “A plaything. Something to use and throw away when he’s bored.” That hit a nerve. Jessica completely lost it. She swiped everything off the coffee table – ceramic vases shattered on the floor. I quickly pulled out my phone, recorded her meltdown, sent the video to our family group chat, and specifically tagged Mark. Less than twenty minutes later, he burst through the door, looking frantic. Jessica saw him like a lifeline, sobbing and throwing herself into his arms. I leaned against the wall, watching the drama unfold with a strange sense of detachment. Two whole years. Now, the mask was finally slipping. I was almost excited to see how he’d try to spin this. Mark shoved Jessica away. Sweat beaded on his forehead, darkening his shirt, even though the room wasn't particularly warm. He scrambled over to me, hands raised in surrender, begging me to listen. “Chloe, it’s all a misunderstanding! There’s nothing going on between us, I swear!” Jessica screeched, “Didn’t you tell me you two had no feelings left?! That she’s just some online personality with a bit of money?! Look at her! How can she possibly compare to me?” “Jessica, shut up!” Mark yelled back. I stared at them, a dawning realization hitting me. So, in Mark’s world, our love had died long ago. It was true, my online career had taken off in the last couple of years. I’d even bought myself a new car. If Jessica hadn’t blurted it out today, I might never have known he was resentful, that he was after my money. Suddenly, the disgust washed over me. These two were repulsive. I started pushing them both towards the door. Suddenly, Jessica clutched her stomach, her eyes wide with alarm as she looked at me. The words she spoke next hit me like a physical blow. “Don’t touch me! I’m pregnant!”
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