A Truth Worth Spilling
The cold splash of soda hit my face before I could even react. Sticky liquid dripped down my cheeks, soaking into my sweater. The room went dead silent. My sister, Claire, gasped.
“Jason!” she shouted, staring at her husband in shock.
Jason stood there, his chest heaving, his hands clenched at his sides. His face was red—not from anger, but from fear. Because he knew. He knew exactly what I was about to do.
I wiped my face with my sleeve, my heart pounding. “That,” I said slowly, “was a mistake.”
Claire rushed to my side, handing me napkins from the kitchen counter. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped at Jason.
Jason ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting toward the envelope still clutched in my hand. He knew that whatever was inside it would ruin him.
“Just drop it,” he muttered, his voice tight. “This isn’t your business.”
I let out a cold laugh. “Not my business? Claire is my sister. If someone is hurting her, lying to her—yeah, it is my business.”
Claire’s eyes flickered between us. “What is going on?” she demanded.
I took a deep breath and handed her the envelope. My fingers trembled, but I forced myself to stay strong. “See for yourself.”
She hesitated, glancing at Jason, who had gone pale. Then she tore open the envelope. Photos spilled out onto the counter. Claire picked one up, her face twisting in confusion—then horror.
The pictures told the truth Jason had been trying to hide. Him, wrapped around another woman, kissing her in a dimly lit restaurant. Another photo, of them walking hand in hand into a hotel. The time stamps were recent. Too recent.
