The photo on her desk was one I had taken during our trip to Maui. I remembered that day perfectly. The sunlight, the water, the way Michael had laughed right before I pressed the camera button.
He had taken a photo from our marriage and given it to her as proof of theirs.
“That’s wonderful,” I said.
Somehow my voice sounded normal.
Maya had no idea. She looked happy, open, and completely unaware.
In less than a minute, I understood one thing clearly: she was not my enemy.
She had believed the same man I had.
I went to my desk, opened my laptop, and stared at the login screen until I remembered my password.
For the rest of the day, I performed being normal.
Maya brought me coffee and told me about wedding venues. She said Michael wanted a hotel with skyline views because a woman should always remember the room where her life changes.
I wrote notes for a campaign meeting and nodded like my life had not just split in half.
At lunch, she talked about the expensive restaurant Michael had taken her to the week before.
That night, I found the receipt in his suit pocket.
Dinner for two.
Five hundred and fifty dollars.
He had told me he was taking investors out.
I photographed the receipt and created a folder on my phone.
Then I opened my laptop and made a spreadsheet.
Date.
His excuse.
What really happened.
Amount.
Evidence.
Notes.
By the time Michael came home, I had ten entries.
