Scrolling through my feed, I stumbled upon a post: [My boyfriend sent me a picture, saying he’s on a business trip alone. But do you really think someone staying alone would mess up the bedsheets like this? He’s not picking up my calls either. Girls, help me analyze this.] The accompanying photo showed a hotel bed and sofa. It looked eerily familiar. Most of the top comments were filled with graphic emojis and crude illustrations, all hinting at suggestive positions. Others were trying to play detective, analyzing the wrinkles on the sheets and the number of food wrappers. One comment, however, instantly caught my eye: [OP, does your boyfriend have a habit of coiling the end of his charging cable into a small loop?] I didn’t know if OP’s boyfriend had that habit, but *I* certainly did. OP replied, [My boyfriend never does that.] [OP, break up with him immediately. He’s definitely cheating.] My finger flew to the screen, zooming in on the charging cable. A faint reflection shimmered on the charging brick. I stared at the sticker on the charging brick by the bedside, my mind racing. Blake and I had been together for ten glorious years. For our tenth anniversary, he’d given me the most beautiful bouquet. Hidden within those flowers was the engagement ring he used to propose. Tears streamed down my face, tears of pure joy. I couldn’t wait to marry him, to make it official. Immediately, I sketched the flowers and the ring, turning them into little stickers. Blake had a habit of sticking these little decals on my things, saying it was his way of always being by my side. I just couldn’t believe such a coincidence could exist. I sent the photo to Harper, my best friend, asking her to take a look. [Isn’t that the hotel you and Blake stayed at during your last trip?] Harper’s words hit me like a splash of cold water. [I knew it! The room layout looked so familiar at first glance.] Harper jokingly suggested it might be some other woman trying to provoke me. [Don’t mistresses usually try to be discreet? I’ve never seen one this arrogant.] I laughed it off, not taking her seriously, and responded in an equally casual tone. But her words lingered, leaving a trace in my mind. I clicked on the poster’s profile, and my heart seized. The IP address matched my exact location. I scrolled through her daily posts. Most of them were pictures of different clouds in the sky. That actually matched her username, “DifferentClouds.” There were a few photos of the poster herself – she looked very young and beautiful. Coincidentally, Blake also loved posting pictures of various clouds on his SnapChat. All sorts of clouds. I scrolled through Blake’s SnapChat, comparing his photos one by one. And there it was: their cloud photos were eerily similar. [Could it be that they just browse the same parts of the internet and save the same photos?] I brushed it off, even joking with Harper. [Go get Blake’s phone and check if he has any other photos.] Harper suggested. Doubt, once planted, festers like a poison. [Honey, I want to post some cloud pictures on my SnapChat too. Do you have any other cloud photos I can choose from?] I snuggled up next to Blake. [I’ve posted a lot of pictures already. Just go look through my SnapChat.] [No way! We have so many mutual friends. If you’ve already posted them, they won’t be fresh anymore.] I pouted, clinging to his arm, trying to be cute. [Ugh, fine, fine, honey. I’ll send you the photos.] That was his subtle way of refusing to let me see his phone. He saw my frown and realized I was getting annoyed. [Oh, come on, honey, don’t be mad. I’ve got a gift for you.] I feigned curiosity. Perhaps eager to appease me, he hurried into the bedroom to get the gift. His phone lay face down on the table. I took a deep breath, quickly unlocked it, and opened his SnapChat. My stomach dropped. He had a few posts marked as ‘hidden from me’—all of them cloud photos. I tried to find “DifferentClouds” in his friend list, but there was no trace of her. I heard him coming out of the room, so I quickly locked the phone, put it back in its original spot, and put on an expectant expression. [Ta-da!] He presented me with a gift box. As I saw the bag in its entirety, my mood plummeted instantly, as if I’d been thrown into an ice cave. He always bought me popular, well-known brands. But this one was a niche international brand. And, coincidentally, it just so happened to be Celeste’s absolute favorite. If I hadn’t looked at her profile, I wouldn’t have even recognized it. Could “coincidence” really explain all of this? Who exactly was “DifferentClouds”? Was I the other woman, or was she?
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