Eight Packs of Lies

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It was April Fools' Day when a delivery guy knocked on my door asking me to sign for a package.

I waved him off. I didn't order any pads. My period just ended two days ago. Is this some kind of April Fools' joke, or did you get the wrong address?

The guy kept his head down, checking his phone.

No mistake. This address is correct. The recipient is listed as Mrs. Archer --- left by a Mr. Damien Archer.

A few minutes later, my husband's assistant came rushing over, drenched in sweat, bowing over and over.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am! These were meant for my girlfriend. I accidentally put down your address instead of hers. That's totally on me!"

Before he even finished talking, our front door swung open.

My husband, Damien, walked out and draped his arm around my shoulders. He turned to look at his assistant, his expression darkening.

"How do you handle anything? Didn't I tell you to have it delivered tonight? You can't even get something this simple right."

Then he pinched my cheek, his tone instantly softening.

"Don't listen to him, babe. These are actually for you. I was going to wrap them up as part of a little surprise, but he ruined it."

I smiled and waved everyone off.

Once they were gone, the smile dropped from my face.

I'd always bought pads in bulk --- always the overnight kind, because I needed the extra coverage.

But out of those nine packs of expensive, brand-name pads, eight of them were regular daytime ones.

When we got inside, Damien said he was tired and wanted to shower.

The moment he stepped into the bathroom, I walked straight to the living room and picked up his phone. The passcode was still my birthday.

I went through all his messages.

Aside from work stuff, his conversations with other women --- coworkers, employees --- were all short and cold. Just "yeah" and "okay" type replies.

His social media was the same --- nothing but work updates. Not a single trace of anything suspicious.

I sat on the couch, staring into space. Was I just being paranoid? I was thirty now --- maybe I was reading too much into things.

The shower turned off.

I quickly cleared his search history and put the phone back exactly where I'd found it.

Damien came out toweling his hair, steam still rising off his skin.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing his damp head against my neck.

"Did you miss me?"

My body stiffened. I pushed him away half-heartedly.

"You're still wet. You're getting me all damp."

"So what?"

He leaned in more, hands starting to wander, his lips brushing my ear, my neck.

"Let's go to bed early tonight..."

Damien had never been one to hold back in that department. When the mood struck him, he went for it --- I'd known that since day one. Even when I was on my period and feeling off, he'd sweet-talk and tease until I found another way to help him.

But just as his lips were about to reach mine, something snapped me back to reality.

Those nine packs of pads felt like a needle lodged in my brain.

It was around last month that things had changed.

Whenever I was on my period, he'd completely stopped pushing.

Every evening when he got home, it was the same line:

"Long day. You must be tired too. Get some rest."

I'd actually thought he was getting more thoughtful. Now, looking back, every single thing felt wrong.

I shoved him away and asked, keeping my voice casual:

"Damien, what made you suddenly think to buy pads for me? You've never bothered with that before."

He paused for just a second, then reached over and flicked my nose.

"You're so silly. It's a holiday, babe."

His voice was warm and indulgent.

"I wanted to stock up on essentials for my girl. Is that a crime? It's not like I haven't bought them for you before."

He stretched out on his side of the bed, lazily twirling a strand of my hair around his fingers.

"Besides, I've noticed you always buy them on sale around this time of year and stockpile them. This year, you don't have to worry about it. I took care of it."

I kept my eyes on him.

"Then why this brand? And why did you get so many daytime ones?"

"Everyone online says this brand is good. Light and breathable."

He answered immediately, his eyes never flickering.

"I've seen you buy the thick cotton ones. Thought you might want to try something different. And the daytime kind works on regular days too, not just during your period. More convenient."

As he spoke, he reached over to his nightstand and pulled out a small blue velvet box.

"And of course, that's not all."

He handed it to me, looking a little pleased with himself.

"You didn't think I'd only get you pads for the holiday, did you? Open it."

Inside was a pearl necklace. The pearls were large and perfectly round, with a warm, lustrous glow. One look and you could tell it wasn't cheap.

"South Sea pearls. They'll look beautiful on you."

He lifted the necklace out and moved to clasp it around my neck.

"Do you like it?"

I stared at those cold, round beads and didn't move.

"What's wrong?"

He looked at me.

"Nothing."

I closed the lid and set the box aside.

"It's expensive, I'm sure. It's just... I think I mentioned before that I don't really like pearls."

"Did you?"

Damien blinked, thinking for a moment.

"I don't remember that. But women can never have too much jewelry. Every piece counts. Look at any woman worth her salt --- they all have pearls."

My heart sank, piece by piece. He didn't remember.

When he was pursuing me hardest, I'd told him about my past.

After my mom died, my dad moved on fast --- with a woman he'd been seeing on the side.

She drained most of what was left of our family's money, then showed up at our house wearing a thick strand of round pearl bracelets, like she owned the place. She drove me out, and I ended up growing up in a group home.

That year, in the middle of a snowstorm, I'd cried and told him:

"I hate pearls. Every time I see them, I think of that woman. And of my dad, who threw me away."

He'd held me so tight it hurt, and swore:

"I will never let you see a single pearl for the rest of your life. I'll make sure you never have to think about any of that again."

And now, he was holding out a pearl necklace and saying:

"I don't remember that."

"Thank you, honey."

I forced a smile and took the box.

"My stomach's acting up a little. You go to sleep first."

I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door.

The pads weren't for me. He'd given me jewelry I'd specifically told him I hated. Damien was lying.

I'd already checked his phone and found nothing.

But wait --- there was one more thing.

There was a name in his contacts that stood out from all the rest.

Jade. A college student he sponsored --- a girl who'd grown up in poverty and earned her way into a top university in the city. I had been the one who'd agreed to support her.

I remembered her --- small and thin, a little timid when she'd come to dinner at our place once. Quiet about most things, but her eyes lit up when she talked about school.

Damien had said at the time:

"That girl's got a real fire in her. Reminds me of you back in the day."

So why did he have at least some kind of message history with every other woman in his contacts ---

But with Jade, nothing? Not a single message?

Her chat log was completely blank. Clean as glass after a rainstorm. You could see straight through it.

Too clean.

The next day, I found Jade's contact in my own phone.

Her profile photo was a silhouette of a girl reading, just the side of her face. Her social media was mostly library corners, open books, a cup of tea.

I scrolled down slowly.

Then my finger stopped.

The most recent post. Uploaded yesterday afternoon.

Period cramps are the worst. Can't focus on anything. Good thing my man is taking care of me~

The photo showed a steaming mug of hot milk on a natural wood desk.

I stared at it for a few seconds, then zoomed in.

In the corner of the desk, partially cut off by the frame, was a cardboard box.

On the corner of the box, clearly visible, was the logo of the same expensive pad brand. I counted --- at least eight packs visible.

And beside them, one opened pack that looked like it had just been used.

So that was it.

The desire he'd been holding back during my period had been redirected --- toward another woman entirely.

That afternoon, I did something I never did. I showed up at Damien's office.

What I walked in on made my vision go red.

Jade was sitting on Damien's lap, wearing a school uniform, arms wrapped around his neck.

They were kissing like they had all the time in the world. His hand rested on her waist. The air in the room was thick.

I crossed the room in seconds, grabbed Jade by the hair, and yanked her off his lap.

She stumbled and nearly fell. I raised my hand and slapped her. The sound cracked through the office.

Then I turned to Damien. He'd gotten to his feet, his expression dark.

I raised my hand to slap him too --- but he grabbed my wrist.

"Rachel, what is wrong with you? Why aren't you home? You're supposed to pick up our son from school. What are you doing storming into my office?"

Not a shred of guilt. Like he wasn't the one who'd done anything wrong.

I wrenched my hand free, my voice breaking.

"Damien, you remember we have a son? You could do this here and not think about your wife and kid for even one second?"

Jade pressed her hand to her cheek and shuffled to Damien's side. She tugged lightly at his sleeve, then turned to me and bowed her head.

"Ma'am, I'm so sorry. Please don't be angry with him. It's my fault. I'm the one who fell for him. It's nothing to do with him --- if you're going to blame someone, blame me."

I pointed right at her.

"Jade, I chose to help you because you'd worked so hard to get here from nothing. I wanted to give you a real chance to build your own life. And this is what you do with it?"

"You used your position as someone he sponsors to go after a married man. Do you have any conscience at all?"

Jade suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, wrapping her arms around my legs.

Her tears were falling fast, the red mark from my slap still vivid on her cheek --- but her eyes were defiant.

"Ma'am, I know this is wrong. But what Damien and I have is real. Loving someone isn't a crime. And if we're really in love --- doesn't that mean you're the one who doesn't belong anymore? The one who isn't loved is always the outsider."

My stomach lurched. I stepped back, trying to shake her off.

"Let go of me. Don't touch me."

But then Jade let out a sharp cry and clutched her stomach.

Her knees buckled. She crumpled to the floor.

"Jade!"

Damien's face went pale.

He'd turned away a moment earlier to close the office door --- he hadn't seen me push her, but he'd heard me tell her not to touch me. When he spun back around, Jade was on the ground.

"Jade? What happened? Are you okay?"

She curled against his chest, tears sliding into her hair.

"I'm okay... my stomach... it hurts a little. Don't blame her. I lost my balance..."

Damien looked up at me. The warmth in his eyes had been replaced by something cold and sharp.

"She's like this and you still pushed her? What happened to you, Rachel? When did you become like this?"

He lifted Jade carefully and laid her on the couch.

"You saw her fall on her own!"

Damien ignored me completely, calling out toward the door:

"Marcus, get in here!"

His assistant Marcus pushed the door open, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Hold her."

Marcus flinched, then walked over to me and said quietly, not meeting my eyes:

"I'm sorry, ma'am..."

Then he took hold of my arm.

Damien stood beside the couch, his expression empty of anything warm.

"Kneel down and apologize to Jade. Do that, and we'll call this even."

I stood frozen, staring at him.

"What... what did you just say?"

"She already deals with cramps. She's not strong. And you hit her and shoved her."

Damien said it slowly, each word deliberate.

"I'm telling you to kneel down and apologize to her."

"Damien!"

My voice was shaking so badly I barely recognized it.

"You want me to... kneel down? For her?"

In that moment, the man standing in front of me felt like a complete stranger.

It was like something cracked open in my chest, and cold air was rushing in through the hole.

He scowled, impatient.

"Are you deaf?"

"Do you remember what you said when you were chasing me?"

My tears finally broke through. I couldn't hold them back anymore.

"You said you couldn't stand to see me upset even a little. At our wedding, you carried me the whole way down the aisle because you were afraid my feet would hurt in my heels."

From the couch, Jade let out a sharp, perfectly timed gasp of pain.

I looked at her.

"Drop the act. Have some self-respect."

"Rachel!"

Damien snapped.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved down hard.

My knees hit the marble floor. The pain shot straight through me.

I cried out.

He wasn't done. He seized my jaw, forcing my face up toward his. His grip was crushing.

"Say one more word about her. I dare you."

He leaned in close, his voice cold and cutting.

"You keep throwing around words like sponsored student. You keep calling her shameless. Rachel --- who do you think you are? Don't forget: you were a charity case too. I'm the one who paid for your education."

My breath stopped.

"You got where you are by getting into my bed."

He stared into my eyes, the corner of his mouth curling into something ugly.

"What, now that you've got the ring and the title, you've forgotten how you got here? You actually think you're somebody?"

"Damien..."

My voice came out ragged. Hollow.

"You were the one who waited outside my school for three months. You said you admired me. You said you loved my spirit and felt for everything I'd been through. You said you loved me. You said you wanted to marry me and give me a home."

"You were the one who begged me to say yes. I gave up a graduate school scholarship abroad because of you. I stayed home and built a life around you."

I was nearly screaming, my vision blurred with tears.

"And now you're telling me I slept my way up?"

Damien's grip on my jaw loosened slightly, but the contempt in his eyes only deepened.

"What else would you call it? Look at yourself right now, Rachel. You're no different from a woman throwing a fit in the street. You got married, had a kid, and figured that meant you had a meal ticket for life."

"I want a divorce."

I shoved his hand away with everything I had and tried to push myself to my feet.

"I can't do this anymore. Not one more day."

Damien looked down at me, and let out a short, derisive laugh.

"You think I care that much? Fine. Get divorced. But don't come crying to me after."

He leaned down until his mouth was at my ear, his voice quiet and vicious.

"Rachel, without the title, without my name behind you --- you look around this city and tell me which company would hire you. Without me, you are nothing."

The hole in my chest kept filling with cold air. At some point, the pain went so deep it turned numb.

I reached up and wiped my face hard.

"Damien. I want a divorce. Right now. Today."

He went still for a moment --- probably hadn't expected me to mean it.

"Alright. If that's what you want."

He straightened up, smoothed out his sleeve where it had wrinkled, and put back on that cool, distant expression he wore so well.

"You'll learn soon enough."

He said nothing more to me. He turned and walked back to the couch, gently lifting Jade into his arms.

"Come on. We're going to the hospital."

Jade nestled into him, calm and content. As they passed me, she turned her head just slightly and, looking down at me still on the floor, gave me a small, silent smile.

Then she tilted her head up and kissed him on the cheek, loud enough for me to hear.

"You're so good to me."

The door shut behind them.

I pulled myself up slowly.

I looked around the wrecked office, and somehow --- I started to laugh. And then, in the middle of laughing, the tears came back.

So the thing I thought had saved me --- had been a joke all along.

I held onto the couch and got to my feet. Dried my eyes.

But there was one thing he'd forgotten.

He hadn't been the only one willing to help me back then.