Living with Jake was like being stuck in a comfy routine. Our modest apartment, with its comfortable wraps and mismatched cushions, seemed like a safe haven—or so I thought. My name is Emily, and for the past three years, Jake and I have established a habit of enjoying simple pleasures.
The most common was ordering pizza from the same local restaurant on leisurely evenings. It was a ritual. Jake would look through movie listings while I called our favorite restaurant.
Tom, the delivery person, recognized us by name. His visits were as consistent as clockwork, and his joyful “How’s it going?” rang through our modest doorway. Tonight, though, it was only me. Jake was out of town on business, so the silence was louder than normal…Click Here To Continue Reading>> …Click Here To Continue Reading>>
I ordered a single pizza, my regular pepperoni and extra cheese. When the doorbell rang, it was Tom, as expected, but something about him seemed strange tonight. His smile did not reach his eyes, and his hands appeared to shake slightly as he handed me the pizza box.
“Evening, Emily. Jake’s not around tonight?” Tom asked, a slight quiver in his voice.
“No, just me tonight,” I responded, trying to sound cheerful. Tom nodded, quickly turning on his heel to leave—too quickly, it seemed.
As I shut the door, his behavior nagged at me. Was he okay? Shaking off the concern, I carried the warm box to the kitchen. The aroma of garlic and tomato sauce filled the air, a comfort that usually felt like a hug.
But as I opened the box, my heart skipped a beat. There, scrawled across the inside lid of the box with a black Sharpie, was a message that read, “He is not who you think. Check your door camera.”
A chilly sense of dread swept over me, and the pizza suddenly appeared unappealing. My hands trembled as I set the box down, the apartment’s cheery hum replaced by a foreboding silence. What was I going to find on the camera?
My fingers trembled as I fidgeted with the tablet that operated our door camera. The note on the pizza box sent shivers down my spine, and the seconds before I opened the app felt like a lifetime. I tapped into the camera’s history, my breath catching as I swiped back over the days.
Then, I saw it.
Jake, my Jake, met a woman at the entrance. This woman was laughing as she handed him a bottle of wine. My heart fell. I scrolled further. Another day, another woman, this time with a stack of movies.
Jake always appeared to have company while I was away. Different women, each visit meticulously filmed by the camera he had installed, ironically for our safety.
I sat paralyzed, the iPad falling onto my lap. My thoughts raced. How could he? When did our lives together become this charade? Tears obscured my vision, and each clip on the camera was a stab to my heart. Was the faith I had placed in him, the affection I had nurtured, all one-sided? Was I the only one inside?
With each woman’s laugh, each shared bottle of wine, it felt as though the apartment shrank, the walls closing in on me. I’d loved this space, our shared life, but now each room screamed of betrayal.
I felt nauseous, a lump forming in my throat as the reality settled like lead in my stomach. This wasn’t just a simple mistake or a misunderstanding. It was a deliberate, repeated betrayal. My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms.
Rage mingled with my sorrow, heating my tears as they streamed down my face. I had to confront him, to demand answers. But first, I needed to compose myself, to gather the shattered pieces of my dignity. I couldn’t let him see me broken.
I needed to be strong for my own sake. The love I believed we shared was gone, replaced by a cold, harsh anger. Jake had some serious explaining to do, and I was determined to make sure I understood everything.
Jake returned to find the flat silent and the tension thick as fog. I sat at the kitchen table, the images from the door camera running through my thoughts. He greeted me with his customary careless smile, oblivious to the turmoil within me.
“Hey, Em. Missed you,” he said, hanging up his coat.
I didn’t return the smile. “We need to talk.”
Jake’s smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”
I held out the iPad, displaying a pause on a picture of him with one of the women. “Care to explain this?” READ FULL STORY HERE>>>CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING>>>
Jake looked at the television and shrugged, his stance relaxed. Emily, you are making a big issue out of nothing. “They are just friends.”
“Friends?” I snapped. “Different women every time I’m away? “Really, Jake?”
He sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “Look, Em, you are being paranoid. “These women have no significance.”
“Nothing?” My voice increased, rage piercing through my placid demeanor. “How can you say that?”
Jake’s tone hardened. “I bring a lot to this relationship. You really want to throw this away over some insecurity?”
That was it. His dismissal, his arrogance—it crystallized everything I felt. “It’s not insecurity when I have evidence, Jake. I can’t do this. I won’t marry someone who thinks so little of me.”
Jake’s face tightened, the arrogance slipping into shock. “You’re serious? Over some nonsense?”
“Yes,” I said, firm and clear. “I’m done. We’re done.”
He stared at me, then without another word, grabbed his coat and left. The door slammed shut behind him, and just like that, it was over.
After a few moments alone, gathering my thoughts, I picked up my phone and dialed the pizza place. Tom answered.
“Tom, it’s Emily. I… I wanted to say thank you. You were right about Jake.”
There was a pause on the line. “I’m really sorry, Emily. I thought you should know.”
“I appreciate it,” I said, sincerity heavy in my voice. “Could I… maybe buy you a coffee sometime? To talk?”
“I’d like that,” Tom replied, a warmth in his voice that comforted my bruised heart.
The next day, as I met Tom at the local café, the anxiety of confronting Jake felt like a distant memory. Tom’s genuine concern was evident in his eyes, making me feel seen for the first time in a long while.
“Thank you for being honest with me, Tom. It must have been hard to decide to tell me,” I said as we sat down with our coffees.
He nodded. “It was Emily. But it didn’t feel right to conceal it from you. “Everyone deserves the truth.”
As we talked, I realized how much of my identity was based on my relationship with Jake. As I sat across from Tom, I felt a surge of freedom and promise. Here was someone who prioritized honesty over convenience. It felt invigorating and, somehow, hopeful.
Sitting there with Tom, laughing erupting between us, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. It felt like breathing fresh air after being cooped up indoors for too long.
“I never thought a pizza delivery could change my life,” I joked, glancing at Tom. His smile told me he understood.
“Life is strange, Emily. Sometimes help comes from where you least expect it,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with kindness.
As we left the café, a new sense of hope filled me. I was ready to move forward, to embrace whatever came next. I wasn’t sure what the future held, but I was certain of one thing: I was on my way to finding happiness again, one slice at a time.
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