Archer Edwards and I were childhood sweethearts.

We were together for six years, from high school all the way through college.

On graduation day, in front of our teachers and classmates, Archer proposed.

He knelt in a heart shape made of candles, down on one knee.

My best friend stood closest, smiling as she watched us.

Our college friends, all four years of them, were cheering, urging me to say yes.

Archer held out a bouquet, his eyes locked on mine, and said, "Marry me, Penelope. I'll make you happy."

I believed him.

I was so moved, tears welling up as I let him slip the engagement ring onto my finger.

My best friend, Lilith Bishop, was right there, snapping a pic of our happy moment.

That photo? We framed it.

After we got married, it sat on our nightstand.

That evening, Archer’s car pulled up downstairs.

I heard it but pretended to be asleep.

Ever since I found out about his affair, I didn't want to, and didn't know how to, face the man who'd been by my side for eight years.

Archer came upstairs. Seeing I was asleep, he didn't disturb me.

He headed straight for the bathroom to shower, grabbing his phone as he went.

It reminded me of the night I discovered Archer's cheating.

He’d gone into the bathroom, but his phone, left on the bedside table, lit up.

I usually didn't snoop, but the notification came late.

Worried it was something urgent from his firm, I unlocked it without thinking.

Then, staring at Archer’s screen, a chill ran through me.

The chat window showed a familiar profile pic, but the words were increasingly alien.

“I’ve been married to her for two years. I’m so over her always being so agreeable.”

“…I love you. If my mother hadn’t insisted on interfering back then, I would never have ended up with her.”

“Darling, you have to believe me. Once she has the baby, I’ll divorce her…”

I scrolled through his conversation with her, a blur of words that seemed to go on forever.

When Archer and I were picking out my wedding dress, he'd glance at me in the gown, say it looked nice, then text her asking if she was awake.

When I sat across from him at dinner, after serving me, he'd secretly order food for her, reminding her to eat.

On Valentine’s Day, after the fireworks, he’d text her while washing his hands, asking if she liked his gift.

In countless moments when we were together, her shadow was always there.

I heard Archer finish drying his hair, step out of the bathroom, and pause by my side of the bed.

I didn't know if he knew I was faking sleep.

The next second, Archer’s phone rang.

Hearing that familiar ringtone, I dug my nails hard into my palm.

Whether he was trying not to wake me or was just eager to answer, I couldn't tell.

Archer walked quickly toward the balcony, pulling the door partly shut.

I slowly opened my eyes, looking towards the balcony.

I got out of bed, not bothering with slippers.

My bare feet sank into the soft wool carpet as I crept closer.

Through the glass, I watched Archer’s back.

His voice was muffled.