On Valentine’s Day morning, Kate stepped outside expecting a sweet surprise. Her breath caught in her throat. Her car was covered in hundreds of pink paper hearts, fluttering in the morning breeze like whispers of love. For a brief, fleeting moment, her heart swelled with hope. Maybe, after all these years, Brandon had finally decided to surprise her. Maybe he had found a way to bring back the romance they had lost.
She walked closer, a small smile forming on her lips. The hearts were everywhere—stuck to the doors, the mirrors, even the windshield. It looked like something out of a teenage romance movie, a love-struck confession made loud and clear.
She reached out and peeled one heart off her car, eager to read the message inside.
Her stomach dropped.
It wasn’t a love note. It was a warning.
Your husband is a liar.
Kate frowned, her fingers tightening around the flimsy paper. What kind of joke was this?
She ripped off another heart.
Brandon only loves me.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. She tore another one away.
He’ll never tell you the truth.
A cold shiver ran down her spine as she frantically yanked heart after heart from the car, each one leaving behind an ugly smear of glue. The messages were all the same—accusations, warnings, confessions of a faceless woman who claimed to know her husband in ways she never had.
You deserve to know.
He was with me last night.
Ask him about the woman he’s been seeing.
Kate’s breath came in short, sharp bursts. Neighbors peered from behind their curtains, whispering. They had seen this before she had. They had already put the pieces together before she even had a chance to process what was happening.
She swallowed hard and looked up at the house.
Brandon was standing at the window.
Watching.
Kate’s fingers trembled as she reached for one last paper heart, peeling it away slowly, as if delaying the inevitable.
He’ll never choose you.
Tears blurred her vision.
Happy Valentine’s Day to her.
Shoving the crumpled paper in her pocket, Kate turned on her heel and rushed inside, slamming the door behind her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she stormed into the kitchen.
Brandon was sitting at the counter, scrolling through his phone, sipping his coffee like it was just another ordinary morning.
She threw one of the hearts onto the counter in front of him.
“What the hell is this, Brandon?” Her voice shook with anger.
Brandon barely glanced at the paper before looking up at her. “What are you talking about? I don’t know who did this.”
Kate let out a bitter laugh, disbelief twisting in her gut. “You saw me out there, right? You saw what was on my car? They’re saying you’re cheating on me, and you’re telling me you don’t know who did this?”
He picked up one of the hearts, read the message, then casually placed it back down.
“Probably just some prank,” he said, taking another sip of coffee. “Stupid kids messing around.”
Kate’s hands curled into fists. That tone. That measured, calm voice he always used when he wanted her to second-guess herself. He had done this before, turned every argument into something small, something silly, something she was overreacting about.
Not this time.
Her heart hammered as she stomped toward the living room, yanking the remote for the security monitor. Her fingers flew over the controls, rewinding the footage from the night before.
And there she was.
Linda.
Their neighbor.
At 3 a.m., in the dim glow of the streetlights, she was gluing those damn hearts onto Kate’s car.
Kate’s breath caught. Linda and Brandon? It didn’t make sense. She had never suspected anything before. But now, memories flooded her mind—Linda standing outside her house as Brandon left for work, her eyes lingering just a little too long. The way Brandon sometimes came home late, brushing off her questions with lazy excuses.
Her blood boiled. If her husband wasn’t going to tell her the truth, then she would get it from Linda herself.
Kate stormed across the street and pounded on Linda’s door so hard it rattled.
A few moments later, the door swung open. Linda stood there, her eyes red-rimmed like she had been crying. Like she already knew why Kate was there.
“How long?” Kate asked, her voice cold.
Linda swallowed hard, her lips trembling. “Twenty years.”
The ground tilted beneath Kate’s feet.
She shook her head. “You’re lying.”
Linda let out a shaky laugh. “I wish I was.”
Kate stared at her, hoping she would take it back, tell her it was all some sick joke. But instead, Linda spoke again.
“He told me he’d leave you. Over and over again, for two decades. He just needed the right moment. He told me you weren’t well… that you couldn’t handle a divorce. That he had to stay because he felt sorry for you. I can prove it.”
Kate’s stomach twisted. She couldn’t breathe.
She turned and bolted back home, her mind racing. She needed to hear it from Brandon himself.
He was still sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone like nothing had happened.
“Linda just told me everything,” Kate said, crossing her arms tightly.
Brandon looked up, expression unreadable. “She’s lying. She’s obsessed with me. She’s been coming on to me for years, but I never—”
“Prove it,” Kate cut him off.
“What?”
“Prove it, Brandon. Because she has twenty years’ worth of stories. She said you needed the right moment to leave me. I bet she has even more to tell.”
His jaw tightened. “Kate, I don’t have proof because there’s nothing to prove.”
Kate scoffed. “Convenient.”
His expression remained maddeningly calm. No panic. No guilt. Just the same, infuriating mask he always wore.
Without another word, Kate turned and marched straight back to Linda’s house.
Linda was already waiting, holding out her phone. “Here. If you need proof, take a look.”
Kate’s hands trembled as she scrolled.
Photos. Videos. Text messages.
Brandon and Linda, holding hands at a hotel. Slipping into her house at night. Messages filled with promises to leave Kate.
The proof was overwhelming.
The next morning, Kate told Brandon she was filing for divorce.
But Brandon didn’t back down. He hired lawyers. Investigators. They analyzed the evidence, dug deep into the details.
And shockingly, they found out the truth.
Linda had forged it all. The messages, the photos, even the videos—fake, fabricated, altered. She had spent twenty years in love with a man who had never truly been hers.
Kate sued her. They got a restraining order.
But at night, when Brandon sleeps beside her, one question lingers in Kate’s mind.
What if the lawyers were wrong?
