Dates.
Which nights.
Which “work dinners.”
Which weekends he’d supposedly been helping with a project.
I didn’t need many answers.
After a while, Hannah leaned back and whispered, “He made me think you were the problem.”
I looked at her.
“He made me think I was the problem too.”
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then her expression sharpened.
“What are you going to do?”
I looked down at my coffee.
An idea was already forming.
We properly exchanged numbers before leaving.
Two days later, I found Ryan in the living room scrolling through his phone.
“I booked us a night away,” I said.
He looked up.
“Where?”
I smiled.
“The hotel where we spent our wedding night.”
Ryan loved the idea.
For the next three days, he behaved like a man who had already won.
He bought a new dark blue fitted shirt, the kind he knew looked good on him.
