Mark walked in.
I saved the document, grabbed my bag from the back of the chair, and stood up.
“I’m heading out. You should go too.”
I moved towards the door. My boss’s husband shifted, not quite blocking me, but close enough that I had to angle around him.
“You’re overreacting, Cindy. I’m just being nice.”
Before I could get past him, his fingers closed around my wrist. Not hard, just enough to stop me.
“You should go too.”
“Please. Just give me five minutes,” Mark begged.
I opened my mouth to tell him to let go. I was so angry that I couldn’t get the words out. My throat felt packed with sand.
Then the office door suddenly opened again.
Lisa stood in the doorway with her laptop bag on her shoulder and a manila envelope tucked under her arm. Her eyes went straight to Mark’s hand on my wrist, then to my face.
I felt the room tilt.
I was so angry.
I couldn’t say a single word.
My boss didn’t yell or gasp. She just closed the door behind her with the same quiet click she used every morning at eight.
“Lisa,” I whispered after finding my voice. “I didn’t… I never…”
“I know, honey.”
She walked toward us, slow and deliberate, as if she’d already rehearsed this. Mark let go of my wrist so fast that his hand snapped back to his side.
My boss didn’t yell or gasp.
“Lisa, this isn’t what it looks like. I stopped by to see if you were still here…,” Mark started lying.
But Lisa didn’t answer him. She reached into her purse, pulled out her phone, tapped the screen twice, then turned it so I could see.
It was a folder with screenshots, dozens of them.
Every message he’d ever sent me. The friend request. The compliment about my smile. The line about not telling her. All of it was saved and dated.
Mark started lying.
I was completely speechless and numb.
“About six weeks ago, Mark fell asleep on the couch with his phone unlocked in his hand. Your name was at the top of the thread. I forwarded every message to myself, and I’ve been forwarding the new ones the same way ever since.”
I stared at her. My hands were shaking, and I didn’t know if it was because of Mark or because the woman I’d been so scared of hurting had been quietly holding an umbrella over my head the whole time.
“Your name was at the top of the thread.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.
