The Knot Inside
"Just an ordinary friend, occasional chats." James’s casual dismissal was a slender, unyielding thorn piercing my heart’s softest spot.He had mentioned "Ms. Vivian" before—admiring her discerning eye, crediting her with crucial guidance during his early, uncertain days. Back then, I’d been genuinely happy he’d found such a mentor. But somewhere along the line, "occasional" became glaring: late-night murmurs in his study, weekend calls he took away from me, that familiar name flashing briefly on his screen…
More unsettling was James’s state after these calls. His eyes held remnants—not just relief, but a complex weariness, burdens shed yet replaced by a hidden exhaustion he didn't want me to see. I leaned back against the sofa, staring at the movie’s flickering images, my mind adrift. Amy, don’t be petty, I scolded myself. Don't let your own family baggage poison your trust in James. He’s good to me, good to Lily, a responsible husband.
The Suspicious Transfers
Another month end meant reviewing the household accounts. My finger scrolled swiftly: utilities, Lily’s preschool, groceries… familiar entries flew by. Suddenly, I stopped.A fixed expense leaped out. Every month end, without fail, a significant transfer—ten thousand yuan. The recipient’s name was deliberately vague: "V.Gallery Services."
The memo read just three words: "Gallery Maintenance."A gallery? We had zero connection to the art world. James was an architect, immersed in concrete and blueprints; I did illustrations, almost exclusively online—no dealings with physical galleries.Instinctively, I scrolled back. One transfer, two… Nearly a year! Every single month, ten thousand yuan vanished like clockwork.My heart plummeted. Where was this money really going? What lay beneath "gallery maintenance"? I looked up at his study’s closed door. Inside, James was, as usual, "working late."
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"Just an ordinary friend, occasional chats." James’s casual dismissal was a slender, unyielding thorn piercing my heart’s softest spot.He had mentioned "Ms. Vivian" before—admiring her discerning eye, crediting her with crucial guidance during his early, uncertain days. Back then, I’d been genuinely happy he’d found such a mentor. But somewhere along the line, "occasional" became glaring: late-night murmurs in his study, weekend calls he took away from me, that familiar name flashing briefly on his screen…
More unsettling was James’s state after these calls. His eyes held remnants—not just relief, but a complex weariness, burdens shed yet replaced by a hidden exhaustion he didn't want me to see. I leaned back against the sofa, staring at the movie’s flickering images, my mind adrift. Amy, don’t be petty, I scolded myself. Don't let your own family baggage poison your trust in James. He’s good to me, good to Lily, a responsible husband.
The Suspicious Transfers
Another month end meant reviewing the household accounts. My finger scrolled swiftly: utilities, Lily’s preschool, groceries… familiar entries flew by. Suddenly, I stopped.A fixed expense leaped out. Every month end, without fail, a significant transfer—ten thousand yuan. The recipient’s name was deliberately vague: "V.Gallery Services."
The memo read just three words: "Gallery Maintenance."A gallery? We had zero connection to the art world. James was an architect, immersed in concrete and blueprints; I did illustrations, almost exclusively online—no dealings with physical galleries.Instinctively, I scrolled back. One transfer, two… Nearly a year! Every single month, ten thousand yuan vanished like clockwork.My heart plummeted. Where was this money really going? What lay beneath "gallery maintenance"? I looked up at his study’s closed door. Inside, James was, as usual, "working late."
NEXT >>
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