Page 2 of The Anniversary Betrayal
“Who’s that?” Leah whispered in her ear, catching her expression.
“One of his colleagues,” Ashley said, her voice steady even though her stomach dipped.
Leah’s brows arched. “She looks like she walked out of a medical drama. No wonder your husband keeps sneaking glances at his phone.”
“Leah,” Ashley warned, though her tone lacked its usual firmness because a part of her, the part that had spent thelast ten years trusting Kingston implicitly didn’t want to admit how easily Leah’s comment landed.
Dinner moved on. Plates of roasted lamb, buttery potatoes, and fresh greens were served. Speeches were made, his father talked about how proud he was of the man Kingston had become, while Ashley’s sister teased her about their chaotic early years of parenting. Laughter filled the air.
Ashley smiled, clapped, even dabbed at her eyes once or twice. She kept the conversation going at her table, accepted congratulations, and let people toast to “ten more years.” But underneath it all, her heart ached in a way she couldn’t name. She stole another glance at Kingston. He was talking with Rebecca again, though this time several others stood around them. From the outside, it looked normal. Professional.
So why did it feel like the ground under her had shifted? Ashley reached for her glass of champagne, her reflection shimmering in the golden bubbles. She forced a smile when Leah nudged her playfully. She laughed when her brother-in-law made a joke about Kingston never remembering anniversaries without calendar reminders. She did what she always did. Kept everything together because tonight was supposed to be about celebrating them.
Later, when the candles burned low and the night air cooled, Ashley found herself alone for a moment at the edge of the rooftop. The city sprawled below her, glittering and alive. She took a breath, letting it fill her chest. She told herself not to overthink. That it was just hospital stress, just colleagues, just one too many texts.
And yet as Kingston’s laugh carried from across the room with Rebecca standing nearby, Ashley couldn’t shake the chillthat wrapped around her like a warning. Ten years. Two kids. Two careers. A marriage that had weathered so much. She prayed it wasn’t about to weather something she couldn’t survive.
Chapter Two
The ride home from the rooftop restaurant should have felt lighter. Ten years of marriage deserved laughter spilling into the car, maybe even a stolen kiss at a red light. Instead, Ashley sat quietly in the passenger seat, her eyes on the blur of headlights outside the window. Kingston hummed along to the radio, tapping the steering wheel with his thumb. It was a habit he had when he was lost in thought, one she’d always found endearing. Tonight, though, it grated.
She wanted to ask him why he’d spent so much of the evening on his phone. Why Rebecca Jane, her name tasted bitter now seemed to hover too close, her laugh punctuating too many of Kingston’s but the kids were asleep in the backseat, their little heads tilted at matching angles, and the last thing Ashley wanted was to wake them to the sound of grown-ups fighting so she stayed quiet.
By the time they pulled into the driveway, the weight in Ashley’s chest felt heavier. Their house, two stories of brick and glass, warm light spilling from the porch lamp usually greeted her like a safe haven. Tonight, it felt like a stage set. A place where she would have to play the part of wife and mother until she could crawl into bed and let her doubts gnaw at her in the dark.
Inside, she carried one of the kids upstairs while Kingston carried the other. They moved with the practiced choreography of parents who’d done this countless times, shoes off, teeth brushed, lights dimmed. Ashley tucked the kids in, brushing kisses onto warm foreheads, whispering promises of pancakes in the morning.
When she stepped out of their room, Kingston was already halfway down the hall.
“I’m going to the study,” he said over his shoulder. “Just need to finish some notes.”
Notes.
Ashley blinked. He used to finish his charting at the hospital, even if it meant staying an extra half hour. Home time was for family. For them.
“Okay,” she said softly, though her throat felt tight.
He disappeared into the study, the door clicking shut behind him. Ashley padded into their bedroom, changed into her cotton nightgown, and sat at the edge of the bed. She stared at the empty side, the dent in the mattress where his body should have been. Her fingers traced the quilt absently.
A memory surfaced, ten years ago, their first anniversary. They couldn’t afford rooftop restaurants back then. They’d ordered takeout Thai food, spread it out on the floor of their tiny apartment, and eaten with chopsticks while their cat tried to steal bites of chicken. Kingston had surprised her with a cheap silver necklace he’d picked up at a mall kiosk. She’d worn it every day until it tarnished. Now, they had money. They had a house. They had the kind of life people envied so why did she feel lonelier than she had in that shoebox apartment?
The shadows didn’t vanish after the anniversary. If anything, they multiplied. It started small. Kingston’s phone buzzing at odd hours, the screen lighting up with messages he quickly dismissed. The way he lingered at work a little longer, sometimes coming home with the faint scent of a different perfume clinging to his jacket, though he swore it was just from the hospital corridors.
Then Rebecca’s name started popping up in conversation. Casual mentions. “Rebecca covered the ER last night.” “Rebecca had an interesting case today.” “Rebecca thinks…”
Ashley noticed, but she didn’t comment. Not yet. She didn’t want to be that wife, the suspicious, paranoid one who made something out of nothing. Instead, she listened, smiled where appropriate, and filed away every mention of Rebecca like pins in a corkboard. Each one pricked.
One evening, about a week later, Kingston came home late. The kids were already in pajamas, curled on the couch watching cartoons. Ashley stood at the kitchen counter chopping vegetables for dinner, the knife thudding rhythmically against the cutting board.
“Long day?” she asked without looking up.
“Yeah.” He loosened his tie, tossed his keys on the counter, and kissed her cheek. The kiss was quick, almost distracted.
Ashley wanted to lean into it, to grab his face and remind him that this,she, was home. Instead, she nodded, slicing through a carrot.
“Rebecca stayed back too,” he added casually, reaching for a glass of water.
Her hands stilled.
