Shattered Truths

Chapter 1: Suspicion and Denial

Matt's fingers drummed a restless rhythm on the cool granite countertop, the sound sharp in the otherwise silent kitchen. The glow from the ceiling light pooled across the surface, throwing long shadows of his hand onto the marble—shadows that twitched and fidgeted like restless creatures. His phone lay in front of him, screen bright and accusing, the empty text box waiting for words he couldn't bring himself to type.

Where are you?
Why aren't you home yet?
Who are you with?

Each variation sprang to mind, but he deleted them all before they even reached the keyboard. The clock above the stove ticked with unyielding precision, each passing second reminding him that Claire was late. Again.

It had become a pattern, these late-night "emergency meetings" that always seemed to stretch into the small hours. At first, Matt had accepted her explanations without hesitation. Claire was hardworking, ambitious, always trying to stay two steps ahead in her career. But lately, that trust had begun to fray. The excuses felt too polished, too rehearsed. The meetings seemed to multiply, overlapping with one another, forming a chain of absences that tugged at his chest until his mind no longer knew peace.

He stared down at the blank message screen and muttered, "Why can't I just believe her?"

Because something wasn't right.

It was a thought he'd been forcing down for weeks, swallowing it until it burned his throat. The little signs crept back into his consciousness every time he was alone: Claire's phone placed face-down on the table, the sudden dimming of her smile when he asked how her day had gone, the way her laughter sometimes sounded distant, as though it was meant for someone else. And then there was the smile—subtle, private, the one she wore while typing out quick bursts of text. He hated that smile. Hated the way it curled her lips as though it belonged to a version of her he could never access.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his tired face. His sister Sarah would tell him he was overthinking again. She'd say he needed to give Claire space, that love required trust and patience. Sarah had always been the calm one, the balanced voice. But Sarah wasn't here tonight. All Matt had was the whisper of suspicion crawling across his skin.

A memory cut through the silence—the rainy Tuesday evening three weeks ago when Claire had flown out the door for another "last-minute meeting." He had watched her from the hallway mirror as she adjusted her coat and smoothed her skirt, hair tied neatly into a bun. She didn't look like someone hurrying off to slog through spreadsheets and corporate jargon. She looked like someone preparing to impress.

That night, he'd stood by the window long after her car disappeared, the unease gnawing until his stomach churned. Tonight was no different, only the storm inside him was louder.

Matt rose abruptly, the chair scraping the floor behind him. He walked to the window, pressing his palms against the cool glass as rain smeared faint silver streaks across the pane. The street outside glistened under the lamps, every car that passed making his heart skip, hoping—half-praying—it would be hers.

It never was.

You're being paranoid, he told himself. Claire loves you. She wouldn't risk what you've built together. She'd tell you if something was wrong.

But then another thought whispered back: Would she?

He backed away from the window, heart pounding. The idea came suddenly, unbidden, yet it latched on with the grip of inevitability. If he wanted peace, if he wanted the storm in his chest to finally quiet, there was only one option. He had to follow her. To know the truth.