Your Fake Affair My Real Divorce

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I was driving when the radio host casually dropped the bombshell about the rumored romance between Craig Ellsworth and Daphne.

He frantically reached over to kill the volume, tripping over his own words as he rushed to explain.

I just gave a careless shrug, telling him I knew it was all tabloid trash.

When he kept rambling, practically begging for absolution, I laughed and teased that Id even help him cover it up in front of his parents.

The words had barely left my mouth when he slammed his foot on the brake. All the color drained from his face.

It reminded me of that night not so long ago, when he had grabbed his ex-girlfriend by the arm and dragged her into a hotel room right in front of me.

He had sneered at me then, his voice dripping with venom, saying that since I was so paranoid, he might as well give me a show.

The breathless, muffled moans that had filtered through the phone receiver later that night shattered the very last remnant of whatever we used to be.

From that moment on, I never shed another tear of jealousy. I never picked another fight.

1.

The moment Craig Ellsworth took Daphne to that hotel room, our marriage effectively flatlined.

So, when I heard their names strung together once again, praised by internet strangers as a match made in heaven, the breakdown I expected never came.

Daphne was a prominent influencer. She had built a massive following on TikTok and Instagram by romanticizing her life as a Stanford graduate living her best life.

A month ago, Craig made a cameo on her feed.

It was an Instagram Storyjust a two-second live photo. You could catch a fleeting blur of Craigs distinct profile in the background. But more glaringly, sitting right there on the nightstand, was a box of Trojan condoms.

The internet works fast. Within hours, sleuths had identified the mystery man as the elusive CEO of Vanguard Holdings.

The screenshot went viral, climbing the trending charts on Twitter and TikTok.

Her comment section was flooded:

[Daphne!! Give us the tea, are you in a relationship?!]

[Wait, isn't that the CEO of Vanguard?]

[Omg, the guy in the back is insanely hot. They look so good together.]

Reading those comments, I had stood frozen in the middle of our living room. That unmistakable little gold-foil box practically screamed what was happening between them. A bone-deep chill washed over me.

When Craig came home that night, I had waited for an explanation.

He brushed it off with a handful of dismissive words.

"It's just a misunderstanding."

When I didn't react, he added, "Ive already had my PR team kill the story."

But after that, Daphnes name became an inescapable phantom in my life.

I heard the nurses gossiping about it during my shifts at the hospital. The algorithm, cruel and precise, constantly pushed her latest posts to my feed.

The rumors of her and Craig only grew louder. The whole world, it seemed, was heavily invested in guessing the nature of their relationship.

2.

The following weekend, Craig went on a "business trip."

I had made plans with a girlfriend for a spa weekend in the Hamptons.

And there, lounging at the luxury resort, I saw them. Craig and Daphne.

She was wearing a string bikini, her flawless figure on full display, with an oversized, expensive men's suit jacket draped over her shoulders.

Craig was right beside her. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to the forearms, tailored trousers hugging his long legs. He looked utterly relaxed, completely in his element.

Walking side-by-side, they were the picture-perfect couple.

Craig leaned in slightly, tilting his head to catch whatever she was saying. I couldn't hear the words, but they both broke into a synchronized, intimate smile.

Later, Daphne went into the cabana to change. She emerged in a sheer white slip dress, but she kept his jacket firmly draped around her.

I watched them disappear into the same private suite.

Without thinking, I followed. Driven by some masochistic ghost, I pushed the heavy oak door open.

My mouth moved faster than my brain. The accusation tore out of me:

"Craig, you're sleeping with Daphne, aren't you?"

Then, I froze.

The suite wasn't empty. A room full of executives and associates turned in unison to stare at me.

Craig looked at me. His eyes were perfectly hollow. Glacial.

He looked away, his jaw tight, and spoke barely above a whisper.

"Get the door, please."

I forgot how to breathe.

His utter dismissal was a public execution. The sheer humiliation radiated through my bones.

The spa weekend was ruined. I made a hollow excuse to my friend and fled the resort.

Craig didnt come home until late that evening.

Part of me felt awful for crashing his meeting, but beneath the guilt was a violent, uncontrollable swell of hurt. The bitterness rose in my throat, choking me.

I couldn't hold it back.

"Craig, are you cheating on me?" I demanded. "What exactly is your relationship with her?"

He gave me a sideways glance, his demeanor entirely detached.

"Jodie. What exactly do you want our relationship to be?" he asked, his voice dripping with condescension. "Barging in like that in front of a dozen peopledid you even for a second consider how you were affecting her reputation?"

My mind went entirely blank. My stomach dropped through the floor.

His coldness was a surgical blade, slipping perfectly between my ribs.

Craig cast one last disgusted look at me, then turned his back and vanished into the darkness of the house.

3.

The cold war began. Craig started taking back-to-back business trips.

The final, fatal blow happened at a boutique hotel in Manhattan, a property owned by Vanguard.

I saw them in the lobby. Daphne and Craig.

I watched them step into the private elevator reserved for the penthouse suites.

I followed them up.

"Craig."

They both stopped in the dimly lit corridor and turned to face me.

I looked at my husband. "Is this your 'business trip'? Booking a suite with your ex-girlfriend?"

Craig let out a dark, breathless laugh.

"Fine," he said. "You're so convinced I'm cheating on you?"

He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing mine. "Do you want me to give you a show?"

Before I could process the threat, his hand wrapped tightly around Daphnes arm, pulling her toward the door of the suite.

His eyes, pitch-black and fathomless, locked onto mine.

"What? Aren't you going to follow us in and see exactly what we do?"

The door slammed shut in my face. The sound echoed down the empty hallway like a gunshot.

My eyes burned. My throat constricted so tightly I couldn't draw air, let alone speak.

By the time I stumbled back into the elevator, my phone buzzed in my hand. An unknown number.

I answered. No one spoke.

There was only the quiet, rhythmic sound of a woman panting. Breathless. Ecstatic.

I stood in the descending elevator for a long, long time.

That unmistakable sound of intimacy confirmed everything. Craig and Daphne were crossing every line.

A sharp ache pierced the bridge of my nose. Craig and I were finished. It was over.

I hailed a cab outside the hotel.

Sitting in the back seat, watching the city lights blur, I found myself scrolling through Daphnes old digital footprint.

The internet had dug up her old VSCO and Finsta accounts from high school and college. They had mapped out her entire romantic timeline with Craig.

They were high school sweethearts. They went to Columbia University together, studying in different departments.

Looking at her old posts, I saw a version of Craig I had never met.

The Craig on her feed remembered her menstrual cycle and packed Advil for her. He patiently followed her to every trendy pop-up cafe in the city, holding her bags. He bought a professional camera and learned photography just so he could take the perfect candid shots of her. He took her to Disneyland. To the Hamptons.

Her old feed was saturated in the blinding, sickeningly sweet pink of young love.

Every word she wrote dripped with the security of a girl who knew she was adored.

[He literally spent a month learning how to edit photos just for me.]

[He tracks my period better than I do. I swear he loves me more than I love myself.]

Under that post, an old comment read: [Omg Daphne, I'm a freshman from your high school! Everyone at Columbia still talks about you and Craig. You guys are literal goals. Forever endgame!]

And Craig, using his own account, had replied to that freshman: [Thank you. I'm going to hold onto her for a long time.]

Now, the old Columbia University Reddit threads were ablaze again, brought back to life by the recent rumors.

[Craig and Daphne were the golden couple on campus. They only broke up because she left for Stanford, right?]

[So this is the ultimate reunion? The one that got away?]

[I have a wild theory. Daphnes family isn't exactly loaded. Stanford out-of-state tuition is insane. What if Craig footed the bill? That makes it even more romanticthe billionaire CEO grinding in NY to support his girl on the West Coast.]

Craig flew out to California religiously every year. Daphnes alma mater was in California.

My hands shook violently against the illuminated screen. I didn't dare think about it any deeper.

4.

Ten minutes after I got home, the front door unlocked. Craig walked in.

His suit was immaculate. Not a single hair out of place. He looked entirely undisturbed.

My eyes were still red and swollen. I refused to look at him.

He walked over and grabbed my wrist.

"Nothing happened between us," he said, his voice an attempt at soothing. "Earlier tonight... I was just angry. I was trying to provoke you."

He was explaining. But it was too late. The damage was in my marrow now.

I gave a small, hollow nod.

"Okay. I understand."

I didn't speak another word to him for the rest of the night.

The next morning, I felt entirely hollowed out, so I took a cab to the hospital.

When my shift ended, the thought of going back to that house felt suffocating. Diane, an attending physician on my floor, had a night shift but desperately needed to attend her daughter's parent-teacher conference. I offered to cover for her.

The ER was a war zone that night.

We had multiple trauma arrivals. By the time I finally scrubbed out of surgery, my phone screen was lit up with over a dozen missed calls.

Diane rushed back into the breakroom, out of breath.

"Jo, thank you so much," she sighed, dumping her bag on the chair. "I heard you guys got slammed and you had to scrub in. I am so sorry. I brought you an iced matcha."

I didn't bother being polite. I took the drink gratefully.

"Thanks, Diane. I'm gonna head out now."

She smiled warmly. "I owe you one."

It was almost midnight when I walked out of the hospital sliding doors.

Since I had cabbed to work, I ordered an Uber home.

Only after I settled into the back seat did I actually check my phone. Every single missed call was from Craig.

He had texted too: [Where are you?]

[I'm in the hospital parking garage. I'm waiting for you.]

I stared at the screen as the car merged onto the avenue.

[Don't bother.]

[I'm already on my way home.]

Shortly after I unlocked the front door, I heard his car pull into the driveway.

Something fundamental had shifted inside me since that night at the hotel. Seeing him suddenly walk through the door left me feeling nothing but awkwardness.

We stood in the foyer, staring at each other. The air was thick and strange.

His dark eyes were fixed heavily on me.

I looked away.

Every time I looked at him now, I saw Daphne. I saw him dragging her into that room. I heard the breathless panting vibrating against my ear. I saw the ghost of their decade-long romance filling every corner of my house.

I used to carry the weight of this marriage entirely on my own. I would come home and tell him about the weird patients in the ER, what I ate for lunch, desperately trying to spark a conversation.

But now? Now I realized we had absolutely nothing to say to each other. The silence in the room was deafening.

It reminded me of another one of Daphnes old diary entries:

[God, he talks so much. I'm literally falling asleep and hes still dragging me into a conversation about his finance models.]

My chest seized up tight.

Craigs deep voice shattered the quiet.

"Weren't you on the day shift? Why are you back so late?"

I could feel the weight of his gaze tracking my every movement.

I kept my back to him, walking over to the kitchen island to pour a glass of water.

"Yeah."

I didn't explain. I didn't have the energy to. He didn't deserve the details of my life anymore.

When I turned around, he was standing right behind me.

His lips parted, like he was trying to find the right words.

I beat him to it, and he swallowed whatever he was about to say.

"I'm going to take a shower."

When I stepped out of the bathroom, he was standing right outside the door. I jumped, startled.

Catching his eye unexpectedly, I just gave a stiff nod and walked past him.

Lying in the dark, my mind raced. Just sharing a mattress with him made my skin crawl.

5.

Craig was an early riser.

By the time I dragged myself out of bed, he had already showered and dressed in a crisp suit.

Breakfast was laid out on the dining table.

Craig sat there, his expression unreadable, reading the news on his tablet.

Looking at the spread, my mind drifted again.

I thought of Daphnes tweet:

[Told him I was craving a breakfast sandwich last night. Woke up to him in the kitchen making me the perfect BLT.]

[His cooking is actually getting scary good.]

A comment underneath: [You're so lucky, girl.]

Daphnes reply: [Haha, hoping you find your own happily ever after!]

"Jodie."

His voice snapped me back to the present.

"Eat."

I blinked, checking the time on the microwave clock.

"You go ahead. I'm running late."

A heavy hand clamped down on my forearm.

Craig looked up at me through his lashes, his dark eyes intense and unyielding.

"You have time. I'll drive you."

I sat down, forcing myself to swallow a few bites of toast.

"My grandmother wants us at the estate for dinner tonight," he said smoothly. "I'll pick you up from the hospital when you get off."

I nodded mechanically.

"Fine."

When I stood up to leave, Craig rose with me.

His tone left no room for argument. "I'm driving you."

I rejected him without a second thought.

"No need."

I saw his brow twitch, a minute furrow of irritation, but I didn't care. I grabbed my bag and walked out the door.

6.

I grabbed lunch with Diane in the hospital cafeteria.

Between bites of a terrible salad, she brought up the upcoming medical exchange program in Asheville, North Carolina.

She let out a heavy sigh. "Man, my kid is applying to college this year. There is no way I can disappear for three months."

"Honestly, anyone with a family here is gonna pass on it," she continued. "And the newlyweds? No chance they're packing up for the South."

I looked up at her.

"Diane, if you're not taking it... I will."

She paused, fork halfway to her mouth.

"Jo, are you serious?"

I nodded firmly. "Yeah. I really want to use this opportunity to learn."

As soon as my tray was clear, I marched straight to the department head's office and put my name on the list.

Right as my shift was ending, my phone rang. Craig.

I picked up, putting it on speaker as I organized my desk. His deep, velvet voice filled the small room.

Diane and a few other nurses happened to be walking by. They stopped, leaning against the doorframe with knowing, teasing smiles.

"Ooh, Jo. Is that the boyfriend?"

I forced a laugh and shook my head. "No."

Through the speaker, Craig said, "I'm down in your parking garage."

"Okay, I'll be right there."

The underground garage was dimly lit. He was leaning against his black G-Wagon, a tall, imposing silhouette.

I walked toward him.

To my horror, Diane was also heading to her car in the same aisle. She spotted us and walked over, her eyebrows raised in absolute delight.

"Jo! Is this the boyfriend?" she beamed. "Not bad to look at, I gotta say."

My brain short-circuited. I spun a lie out of thin air.

"No, no. He's my cousin."

Craig slowly turned his head to look at me. His eyes darkened dangerously.

Diane bought it immediately, her scandalous interest fading into polite nods. "Ah, gotcha. See you tomorrow!"

I slid into the passenger seat. The leather felt suffocating. Craig got in, his jaw clenched tight. He turned to me, the engine idling.

"Why did you say that?"

I looked straight ahead, my voice completely devoid of emotion.

"I don't want my coworkers getting the wrong idea."

Craig flinched slightly. A deep frown etched into his forehead.

"The wrong idea?"

He put the car in drive and pulled out of the garage.

The radio was on, tuned to a pop-culture SiriusXM channel. A bubbly host was mid-sentence.

"...Vanguard CEO Craig Ellsworth and influencer Daphne were spotted at a luxury Hamptons resort recently. Daphne was wearing a tiny bikini, draped in Craig's suit jacket. Let me tell you, the sexual tension in those photos is off the charts..."

Craig slammed his hand against the console, killing the radio instantly.

He exhaled sharply. "You were there that day. You know there were other investors present."

I stared out the window at the passing traffic.

"I know," I said lightly.

Craig tried again. "Nothing happened between us."

A small, cynical smile touched my lips. I assumed he was just doing damage control so I wouldn't rat him out to his family tonight.

"Relax," I said. "Your secret is safe with me. I won't say a word to your grandmother."

Craig slammed his foot on the brake.

The SUV lurched forward violently before skidding to a halt. The blood drained completely from his face.

He stared at me, a violent storm of emotions swirling in his eyes.