She fed them, wiped jelly from chins, kissed three foreheads in turn, and then shepherded them toward the stairs when yawns began replacing giggles.
Upstairs, pajamas were wrestled into, toys were pulled from small, sticky hands, and arguments over who got the middle spot in bed flared up before she calmed them down with music.
At last, she tucked them in, smoothing the blanket across their small bodies. Hazel, the quietest of the three, peered up at her with wide eyes. "Mommy… can you leave the night light on?"
Her delicate heart softened. "Of course, darling. Sweet dreams."
Still, she lingered in the doorway, watching them drift toward sleep, their little faces brighten by the soft glow. For a moment, it felt like everything she had ever wanted was in that room.
When she went downstairs, the illusion began to fray.
Dinner sat on the dining table, untouched. Two plates. His favorite meal waiting for him.
Kathleen sat still, watching the clock tick. Ten whole minutes had passed. Then twenty. Her fingers traced the edge of her plate as unease crept in, settling in her chest. Wesley always called if he was late.
Tonight, there was nothing.
She didn't want to worry over nothing, so she began listening to the silence of the house. Though it pressed on her, heavier with each passing second, until she finally picked up her phone and dialed.
It rang once before his voice, a bit hurried but rushed came through.
"Baby, I'm in the parking lot."
The line went dead before she could reply.
Her chair scraped softly against the floor as she rose when she heard the front door opening moments later. And when Kathleen turned the corner into the living room, there he was; Wesley Hills.
The man she loved, framed in the doorway with a bouquet of roses and a small gift bag in his hands.
.
.
She was still flushed from his kiss, still half-floating in that dizzy haze of roses and whispered promises, when she carried the little box upstairs.
The diamond glimmered in her palm like a secret sun, scattering light across the walls as she pushed the bedroom door open with her hip.
Her smile froze.
Something about the room was wrong.
At first it was only a detail; the sheets rumpled, their pillows shifted. But then she saw strange photographs, dozens of them were scattered across the bed like someone had emptied a box of memories over her marriage.
Kathleen's heart lurched as she stood there just staring. Too shocked to do react.
"What…?"
She walked closer to the bed, even though her pulse was beating in her ears. The photos were facedown, the thick paper curled at the edges. Words were scrawled in bold ink across the backs.
Turn me.
With trembling hands, she picked one up.
All Kathleen wanted was to remain calm, but her brain misinterpreted her desire, making her initial reaction become laughter.
The sound was shaky, she tried convincing herself this was just another of Wesley's surprises.
'Maybe he had printed pictures of our trips, the nights we spent together, some kind of elaborate gift. He was always dramatic like that.' she thought, smiling.
When she finally turned it over, the smile fell from her lips.
Her knees almost buckled, but she gripped the edge of the mattress, the photograph rattling in her hands.
Wesley. My Wesley. His lips pressed against another man's.
"No…" Her throat was dry, almost cracking. "No, this isn't real. It's a joke. It's—"
She fumbled for the next photo, then another, then another. Each one the same. Wesley's face, hands, and mouth on different men. All happening in different moments.
It was undeniable!
The diamond ring box slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a hollow clatter.
"This isn't real," she repeated. "It isn't real, it isn't—" her chest had tightened so bad, she wanted to tear the photos apart, burn them, anything.
But still, she couldn't look away.
Her mind searched for reasons. Maybe it's all industry gossip, paparazzi forgeries, deepfakes, or even AI tricks. That had to be it. It had to be. Because Wesley wasn't… this.
Just as she was lost in her thoughts, she heard footsteps coming from the hallway.
"Babe?" Wesley's voice carried lightly, almost casual. "What's taking you so long?"
Kathleen startled. In a panic, she swept the photos together with clumsy hands, shoving them beneath the duvet just as the door opened.
He leaned in, smiling. The roses were still in his hand. "Are you okay? You look… pale."
She forced a smile, even though her lips barely held shape. "Y-yeah. Just… tired."
For a moment his gaze lingered on her like he was searching her face for cracks, but then he nodded. "Alright. Hurry, I'm starving."
She watched him walk away, but then he came back into the room. "Did you know my brother is coming back to the city tomorrow?"
She quickly shook her head. "I-I had no idea."
She didn't know who his brother was, but she knew Wesley and his family hated him. And that made her hate him too.
Wesley frowned. "Grandmother is throwing him this huge welcome dinner. And we're going... Cause its supposed to be a huge welcome—"
Kath zoned out, pressing her palms against her face. Though he was speaking, but all she could think about was how he kissed her with those same lips.