Cheater

Chapter 7: The Secret Investigation

The stillness of the night, usually a time of rest and solace, had become Mark's prison of doubt. As the clock ticked past midnight, he lay wide awake, listening to Ethan's steady breathing beside him. The rhythmic rise and fall of Ethan's chest, so peaceful, seemed at odds with the storm raging in Mark's mind. He turned slightly to look at Ethan's face, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. His features were serene, almost childlike in their innocence. But to Mark, that serenity only deepened his unease. How could Ethan sleep so soundly while Mark's world was unraveling?

After what felt like hours, Mark couldn't bear the uncertainty any longer. His breath hitched as he quietly slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Ethan. His pulse quickened as he reached for Ethan's phone on the bedside table, the device feeling unnervingly heavy in his hands. He hesitated for a moment, guilt pricking at his conscience, but the need for answers pushed him forward.

With trembling fingers, Mark unlocked the phone. The screen lit up, casting a pale blue light on his anxious face. He scrolled through Ethan's messages first, his eyes scanning for anything out of place. Each message was mundane—texts about work, catching up with friends, reminders from their apartment complex. His heart skipped a beat every time a new name appeared, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

He moved on to Ethan's call logs, then his social media accounts, each one revealing only more of the same: casual conversations, playful banter, nothing that hinted at a secret life. The longer he searched, the more foolish he felt.

"Maybe I am overthinking," Mark whispered to himself, though the words felt hollow. He placed the phone back on the table, his hands clammy with a mix of relief and lingering doubt. But he couldn't stop there—his anxiety drove him to Ethan's laptop, sitting innocently on the desk in their shared home office.

Mark booted up the device, the familiar sound of the startup chime piercing the quiet of the night. He navigated through Ethan's emails, his browsing history, and even the private folders. But like the phone, the computer revealed nothing suspicious—no secret accounts, no hidden messages, nothing to justify Mark's growing paranoia.

With each passing minute, a strange mix of emotions churned within him. Relief at finding nothing, but also disappointment, a nagging feeling that something must be wrong, even if there was no proof. What if he was missing something? What if Ethan was just exceptionally good at hiding his tracks? The doubt gnawed at him, refusing to be silenced.

As Mark shut down the laptop, a wave of guilt washed over him. He had always prided himself on being trusting, on believing in the people he loved. But here he was, spying on Ethan like a thief in the night. He looked over at their bed, where Ethan still slept soundly, unaware of the betrayal unfolding just feet away.

"I'm sorry," Mark murmured, his voice barely audible. He returned to bed, slipping under the covers with a heavy heart. As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the guilt slowly overshadowed his suspicions. Maybe Ethan really was just meeting friends, or maybe those meetings were entirely innocent. But the damage was done—Mark had crossed a line, and there was no going back.

In the days that followed, Mark continued his secret investigations, though each time he did, the weight of his guilt grew heavier. He checked Ethan's phone whenever he had a chance—when Ethan was in the shower, when he was out for a run. He skimmed through the same emails, the same messages, always searching, always hoping for clarity. But nothing changed. There was no hidden affair, no second life. Just Ethan, being Ethan.

Gradually, Mark's suspicions began to fade, overshadowed by the growing guilt of his actions. He hated what he had become—someone who doubted the man he loved, who broke the trust that had once been the foundation of their relationship. And yet, the ghost of those suspicions lingered, a dark shadow that he couldn't quite shake.

One night, as they sat together on the couch, Mark found himself watching Ethan with a mix of love and regret. Ethan was laughing at something on the TV, his face lit up with joy, and for a moment, Mark felt a pang of what he had almost lost. The doubt, the guilt, the secrecy—it had all driven a wedge between them, one that Mark wasn't sure how to remove.

He reached over and took Ethan's hand, squeezing it gently. Ethan looked over, surprised by the sudden gesture, but smiled warmly, his thumb brushing over Mark's knuckles. "What's this for?" he asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Mark shook his head, forcing a smile. "Just... wanted to hold your hand," he replied, his voice thick with unspoken emotions.

Ethan chuckled, leaning in to kiss Mark's cheek. "You're being weird tonight, but I'll take it," he teased, returning his attention to the TV.

As Ethan's laughter filled the room, Mark felt a sharp pang of sadness. He had chosen to believe in Ethan, in their love, but he knew that the ghost of his suspicions would always be there, lurking in the corners of his mind. He had made his choice, but the price was a shadow that would never quite go away.

And so, Mark decided to bury his doubts deep within him, to keep his investigations a secret, even from himself. He chose to trust in Ethan, to trust in their love, and to hope that it would be enough to banish the shadow that had settled over their relationship. But deep down, he knew that the scars of his actions would never fully heal, and that their relationship would never be the same again.