I’m five years older than Liam. So, when he turned twenty-eight, I was already thirty-three. He was the one who once swore to me that age would never be a barrier between us. But later, he told his best friend, “I don’t know why, but once Clara hit thirty, she just started to seem… a little unclean to me.” After that, he found a lover—a girl who looked a little like me. He gave me his heart, and he gave her his body. He thought he had crafted the perfect, compartmentalized life. Until I handed him the divorce papers. I smiled as I told him, “You know, there’s one huge advantage to loving and marrying an older woman, darling. We know how to play the game, and we know how to take a loss.” 1 Sometimes, a woman’s intuition is just that sharp. While Liam was in the shower, his phone buzzed. A local number, no caller ID. I answered it. I said “Hello?” twice, then asked, “Who is this?” The line was silent. Then, they hung up. In those few seconds of dead air, an unspoken understanding passed between us. The person on the other end knew exactly who I was. And I knew, with a sinking certainty, that something was deeply wrong. I unlocked Liam’s phone. I used the number to find the person on his social media. It was a girl. Her avatar was a soft, cutesy anime character, her screen name was “Peaches.” There was no contact name saved for her, and he had her notifications silenced. Their chat history was pristine. Only a single unread message remained: 【I miss you.】 Just those three words, and my heart seized in my chest. My mind went cold with the single, stark realization: Liam was cheating on me. The phone felt weightless in my suddenly nerveless grip. I clicked on the girl’s profile. Her cover photo was likely a selfie—hair in a messy bun, lips in a playful pout. It screamed youth, and I had to admit, she was pretty. I didn’t linger on it. Instead, I took out my own phone and snapped a picture of her profile. Her feed was full of posts. I scrolled quickly, my thumb a blur, until one post made me freeze. She’d written: 【I only want 199 from him, not a penny more!】 Beneath the text was a screenshot of her conversation with Liam. She had him saved under the contact name: My Princess’s Provider. She’d asked him: 【Where’s the 199 you promised me?】 Liam had sent her twenty thousand dollars. She hadn’t accepted it. She’d sent it right back. 【I only want 199!】 Liam replied with a string of ellipses but complied, sending her the exact amount. She followed up with: 【Do you know what 199 means? It’s a pun. It means I want to be with you for a long, long time! Forever and ever!】 My face remained a mask of calm as I took another picture. I backed out of her profile and went straight to his transaction history, filtering for all their transfers. One after another, they scrolled down the screen, a river of payments with no end in sight. The most consistent were the large deposits: fifty thousand dollars at the beginning of each of the last three months. Beyond that, the smaller amounts were countless—a thousand here, two hundred there. Sprinkled among them were numbers thick with meaning: 199, 520 for I love you, 1314 for forever. I photographed every single transaction, my movements methodical and precise. Throughout the entire process, I was eerily calm. I even remembered to mark their chat as unread before I closed the app. 2 “What’s up? Lost in thought?” Liam emerged from the bathroom, rubbing a towel through his wet hair, his voice laced with casual curiosity. I snapped back to reality. I looked up at him. He was wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a chiseled eight-pack. Liam had always kept himself in impeccable shape. I remembered a friend once envying me. “Just look at him,” she’d said. “As long as he’s not a murderer, what’s there not to forgive? Especially when he’s so devoted to you!” I had believed it, too. I had believed Liam was devoted to me. But now, it seemed that was just a story I’d been telling myself. “Oh, someone called for you just now,” I said, my voice even. “Didn’t say a word and then hung up. You might want to check it.” “Probably a spam call. Don’t worry about it.” He took the phone from me, his expression unruffled. He tossed the damp towel into the laundry hamper and picked up his pack of cigarettes from the table. “I’m gonna have a smoke on the balcony.” He always smoked on the balcony because he knew I hated the smell. Only now did I realize it wasn't just about the smoke. A few minutes later, Liam came back inside, pulling on a fresh shirt. “Honey, I have to run out,” he said, all business. “Something urgent came up. Don’t wait up for me tonight.” “What’s wrong?” “The system at the Harrison Group is acting up. I don’t know what their deal is. It was working perfectly during the tests, but now they’re saying it’s all glitches and crashes. I’ve gotta head over there. If it’s late, I’ll just crash at a hotel nearby.” “Is Ethan going with you?” “Yep!” It sounded so convincing. Facts, details, even a witness. I simply nodded. “Drive safe.” 3 Liam left in a hurry. I stood there for a long time, my gaze fixed on the wedding photo hanging on our wall. I just couldn’t understand. Why? Why would Liam cheat? And that girl… Who was she? Her face, the money Liam sent her, those posts on her feed… The images flashed through my mind, a chaotic slideshow of betrayal. Suddenly, a memory sparked. I grabbed my phone, my hands trembling. That girl. I’d seen her before. 4 It was about six months ago. Liam had been taken to the local precinct after a street fight. I went to bail him out. He wasn’t badly hurt, just a scrape on his cheekbone, but his mood was black. His eyes were feral, his whole body radiating a dangerous energy I hadn’t seen since he was a teenager. He had beaten the other guy to a pulp; it was clear he’d intended to do serious damage. The man was screaming about pressing charges, demanding an apology and compensation. Liam just sneered. If I hadn’t been holding him back, he would have gone for him again. After everything was sorted, I was leading him out of the station when a young woman in a work uniform rushed up to us. She gushed at Liam, her words tumbling out in a grateful torrent. “Sir, if it weren’t for you today, I don’t know what would have happened. Thank you, really, thank you so much!” I blinked, looking from her to Liam. He was the picture of impatience. “You should find a new line of work,” he said, his voice rough. A shadow crossed the girl’s face. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I had any other choice…” Liam’s expression soured even more, and he cut her off harshly. “Not my problem. Do whatever you want.” My friend Chloe had come with me that day. As Liam shook the girl off and strode away, Chloe grabbed my arm. “Don’t you think she looks a bit like you?” she’d whispered. “Like, a younger version of you?” I’d laughed it off, thinking she was imagining things. But I couldn’t help turning back to look at the girl one last time. Now, the memory of her face merged perfectly with the photo on my phone. It was her. 5 Liam didn’t come home that night. He returned the next evening, carrying a takeout container. “It’s from that spicy noodle spot you love,” he said, a placating smile on his face. “The line was insane. You go ahead and eat, I’m gonna hop in the shower.” “Okay.” As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, I grabbed my spare key, took the bag of food, and went straight down to the underground garage. The car had been washed; it was spotless. The passenger seat was adjusted to my preferred position. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But I wasn't looking for the obvious. I was there for the dashcam. I went through all the footage from yesterday until today. Liam had driven to the university campus on the south side of town. He’d called the girl. Just two words, sharp and commanding: “Come down.” She’d bounced into the passenger seat, a picture of youthful energy. Then came the sounds. Kissing. Heavy breathing. “Did you touch that old hag?” the girl’s voice, sharp and possessive. “Shut up,” Liam’s voice, low and strained. “Did you or didn’t you?” His reply was a husky growl, thick with desire. “What do you think?” She giggled, triumphant. “You’re all mine.” “Just don’t beg me to stop later.” The car sped up, the velocity a clear indicator of the driver’s urgency. He pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex near the campus and parked. The footage went dark. The next clip started at ten the following morning. Only Liam was in the car. The video played on in silence. I sat frozen in the driver’s seat, my entire body rigid, muscles coiled so tight they ached. I raised a hand to turn it off, but just then, the car’s Bluetooth rang. It was Ethan, Liam’s best friend. “Dude, where are you? You’re not here yet.” “On my way.” “Tsk, this is late, even for you. Not your style. Don’t tell me you were with your little Peaches again.” Liam grunted an affirmative. “Mm.” Ethan sounded exasperated. “Seriously? You’re seeing her way too often. Are you actually falling for her?” Liam let out a short, hollow laugh. “What’s real? What’s fake?” “Don’t play dumb with me. I thought this was just a fling. How did it turn into a long-term thing? Weren’t you head-over-heels in love with Clara? What happened?” The question seemed to stump Liam. A long pause hung in the air. Finally, he spoke, his voice flat. “Clara’s thirty-three.” “And?” “I don’t know why, but once she hit thirty… she just started to seem… unclean to me.” 6 How long had it been since Liam had touched me? I lit a cigarette, the unfamiliar gesture feeling both foreign and deeply necessary, and tried to trace it back. It started about six months ago. Work had become all-consuming. I was pushing for a promotion, pulling late nights, running on fumes and caffeine. Most days, I’d stumble home with just enough energy to fall into bed. Liam would wrap his arms around me, try to kiss me. I’d push him away. “Don’t, I’m exhausted. Next time, okay?” The first time, he was understanding, even sympathetic. The second time, he was clearly annoyed but held his tongue. The third time, he exploded, slamming the door on his way out. I found him at a bar later that night. I knew I’d been unfair, so I wrapped my arms around his neck and met his fierce, punishing kiss with one of my own. It wasn’t good. It was rough, and it hurt. He must have sensed it too, because he finished quickly. That night, he slept with his back to me, the first time he’d ever done that. I felt helpless, unsure how to fix it, how to soothe his bruised ego. But before I could, he seemed to fix himself. He apologized, saying it was his fault, that he’d been too aggressive. “Don’t overthink it,” he’d said. “Don’t let it get to you. We’ll go on a trip as soon as you’re not so busy.” I thought the issue was resolved. He was still good to me. He still treated me well. Even if he no longer held me when we slept, even if we hadn’t made love in half a year. He was good to me. But now he was saying he found me… unclean. That single word. From the moment I heard it, it had sunk its icy claws into me. Every time I thought of it, a chill spread through my entire body. The hand holding the cigarette trembled violently. Ash fell onto my skin, a hot, sharp sting. But it was nothing compared to the wound that word had carved into me. 7 Liam called, his voice a familiar balm over the phone. He asked where I was, why I hadn’t come back upstairs yet. I told him I was just taking out the trash and would be up in a minute. He grunted an “Okay.” “I’m heading to bed, then.” When I finally went back up, Liam was fast asleep, turned on his side, hugging the edge of the bed and leaving a vast, empty space for me. I didn’t get in. I just sat on the edge of the mattress. I stared at his back all night. I met him the year he turned eighteen, a new student in a new city. He was a rebellious kid who’d defied his parents to enroll here, running away from home with nothing but a backpack. His older brother, Mark, had been worried about him and asked me to pick him up from the station. “He has no money, and the dorms aren’t open yet. Can he crash with you for a bit? The kid’s stubborn as a mule. If he says or does anything to tick you off, just give him a good smack.” I thought Mark was out of his mind. A teenage boy? Living with me? Not a chance. I was already planning to rent a separate apartment for him. But when I saw him, he looked so small, so lost. He was crouched under a large tree at the station, hugging his backpack like an abandoned puppy. He came home with me, quiet and obedient. Before I could even bring up the topic of him finding his own place, he was already tugging on my sleeve, his eyes wide and pleading. “Please, I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll cook for you, I’ll clean the house. Just please don’t make me leave.” I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking he was full of it. But he wasn't. He really did cook for me every day. He even rode his little electric scooter to my office to pick me up after work. His presence filled my quiet, sterile apartment with life. My daily commute suddenly felt less like a chore. We lived under the same roof for a month. In the end, it was me who bought him his school supplies and took him to campus. I thought it was just a fleeting chapter in my life. But later, he confessed he had chosen this university just for me. He told me he’d seen me once when he was sixteen, and from that moment on, I had become the sole focus of all his hopes and dreams. This man, when he was still just a boy, had laid his whole, earnest heart at my feet. And I had fallen completely. But now, he was taking it all back. And I had to drag myself out of the wreckage, fast.
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