I slapped $5 on the bar and headed straight for the stairs, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t him. But deep down, I knew. I had memorized every detail of his face, his walk, the way he adjusted his suit jacket when he thought no one was looking. It was him.

I reached the second floor and peered down the hallway. The carpet muffled my footsteps as I walked past the doors, scanning for any sign of him. Then, just as I turned the corner, I saw him again. He stood outside a room, knocking softly. The door opened, and a woman in a red dress smiled at him. She stepped aside, and he walked in.

I froze.

The door clicked shut, and a silence followed that felt heavier than anything I had ever experienced. My body felt disconnected from my mind. I wanted to run, to scream, to burst through that door and demand an explanation. But instead, I just stood there, my hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms.

I had to know more.

I walked back to the reception desk, trying to keep my breathing steady. “Excuse me,” I said, forcing a polite smile. “My fiancé was supposed to be out of town, but I just saw him. I think I might have gotten the dates mixed up. Can you check if he checked in today?”

The receptionist hesitated. “I’m sorry, but we can’t share guest information.”

I nodded, already expecting that answer. “Of course. No problem. Actually, could I book a room on the same floor? I’d love a quiet space to celebrate my birthday alone.”

“Happy birthday! Let me check our availability.”

A few minutes later, I had a key to a room two doors down from his. My hands trembled as I slid the key into the lock. The moment I stepped inside, I leaned against the door and took a deep breath. What was I doing? Did I really want to know the truth?

But it was too late now.

I cracked my door open and listened. Muffled voices drifted through the hallway. I strained to hear his voice, but it was too faint. Then, after what felt like forever, the door to his room opened again. I peeked through the gap in my door.

The woman in the red dress stepped out first. She laughed at something he said. A soft, playful laugh. Then he followed her, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. They walked toward the elevator together, completely at ease, as if they had done this a hundred times before.

My stomach twisted.

I could have confronted him then and there, but I didn’t. I needed more. I needed proof.

I pulled out my phone, my hands still shaking, and snapped a picture. My fiancé, the man I had trusted with my heart, was walking away with another woman while I stood there, shattered.

After they disappeared down the elevator, I went back to my room and sat on the bed, staring at the photo. My mind raced. Who was she? How long had this been going on? Was this the real reason he postponed our wedding?

I wanted to cry, but no tears came. Anger burned through my veins instead. I wasn’t going to let him play me for a fool.

I called his phone.

He answered on the third ring. “Hey, babe,” he said, his voice smooth and normal, as if he wasn’t just walking out of a hotel room with another woman. “I was just about to call you. Work has been crazy. I miss you.”

I gripped the phone tightly. “Oh yeah? Where are you?”

“Still on the trip. It’s been exhausting. I can’t wait to see you when I get back.”

I swallowed hard. “I bet. Maybe you could bring me back a souvenir?”

He chuckled. “Of course. Anything for you.”

I hung up without another word. My fingers tightened around my phone as I stared at the wall.

Lies.

All lies.

I had spent six months planning a wedding with a man who wasn’t even faithful to me. He had postponed our special day so he could be here—with her. And he had the audacity to call me and act like everything was fine.

I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked out of the room, my mind made up. I wasn’t going to cry in some hotel. I wasn’t going to wait for more lies.

Instead, I was going to walk away from him for good.

But before I did, I had one last question:

Would he ever admit the truth, or would he keep lying until the very end?