I thought I had found the perfect man. I believed in the fairy tale, the one where everything falls into place and you live happily ever after. Ethan and I were planning our wedding. The venue was chosen, the guest list was drafted, and in just a few weeks, we’d be standing in front of our friends and family, pledging our love to each other. Everything felt right.
But that morning—everything changed.
I stepped outside, my mind filled with the peaceful hum of anticipation for the day ahead. The kids were excited, backpacks ready, and the smell of pancakes filled the house instead of the usual chaos that often clouded our mornings. I had gotten up early, packed lunches with little handwritten notes inside, and even braided our daughter’s hair after watching a quick tutorial online. I felt like I was on top of the world, like the perfect partner, doing everything right. The house was buzzing with contentment.
As I flipped pancakes on the griddle, I thought about how lucky I was to have Ethan in my life. He was everything I had ever dreamed of in a man: gentle, kind, thoughtful, and responsible. I had waited for this kind of love for what felt like forever. It was like I had everything in place—no more wondering, no more searching. And we had our little routines. One of those routines was breakfast together. I always woke up early, made the coffee, scrambled eggs, and flipped pancakes, while he slept in for a little longer. Then I would gently wake him, and we’d sit down together to start our day with our favorite breakfast, laughing and making small plans.
That morning, like all the others, felt like another step toward our perfect future.
But then the doorbell rang.
It was strange. We weren’t expecting anyone. When I opened the door, there stood Megan, our neighbor from across the street. She lived with her brother, Jay, and though I had never been particularly close with Megan, I always exchanged pleasantries with her.
“Good morning,” I said, my tone neutral, wondering what this unexpected visit was about.
Megan gave me an odd look, a look that seemed almost… sympathetic. “I’m so sorry, Rachel,” she said.
My stomach dropped. “Sorry? For what?”
She hesitated, glancing behind her toward the street. “I just thought you should know… Your fiancé’s car… there’s a message on it. And, well… it’s not exactly cheerful.”
I frowned. “What message?”
Megan hesitated, a little too long, before saying, “You should probably see it for yourself.” And with that, she walked away, leaving me standing there, confused and uneasy.
My mind raced as I went back inside to turn off the stove. I quickly slipped on my sandals and walked outside. I scanned Ethan’s car, looking at it from the front and back, expecting to find something trivial—maybe a dirty windshield or a misplaced sticker. But as I approached the passenger side, I froze.
There it was. Spray-painted across the windows and the door in big, bold letters: “You picked the wrong guy, gave him the wrong finger.”
My heart pounded in my chest. I couldn’t comprehend it. My first thought was that it had to be some kind of joke. A cruel, tasteless prank. But the more I stared at the words, the more it felt like something else—something more personal. Something unsettling. Ethan and I didn’t have enemies, at least, not that I knew of.
I stormed back inside and ran up the stairs to our bedroom, heart racing. Ethan was still asleep, curled up under the blanket, looking peaceful, unaware of the storm that was about to hit.
“Ethan!” I shook him awake.
“Hm? What’s wrong?” he mumbled, still half-dazed from sleep.
“Have you seen your car this morning?” I demanded, my voice tight.
He blinked at me, confusion clouding his features. “My car? No, why?”
“There’s a message painted on the side. Someone vandalized it.”
Ethan sat up, still confused. “Last night, everything was fine. I parked and came straight inside.”
“Well, it’s not fine now,” I said, voice rising. “Come and see for yourself.”
We went outside together, standing on the sidewalk, staring at the words spray-painted on his car. Ethan scratched the back of his neck, his eyes shifting as if trying to make sense of it.
“Any idea who might have done this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“No clue,” he muttered, his voice flat. “But why would someone do this? It doesn’t make sense.”
I could feel the weight of the silence pressing in on us. “Then why would someone write something like this?” I pressed.
Ethan shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe someone mistook my car for someone else’s.”
I narrowed my eyes, searching his face. “You’re not hiding anything from me, are you?”
His gaze met mine, and he seemed to hesitate. “Of course not. I love you, Rachel. I would never lie to you.”
He kissed my cheek, then turned to go back inside.
“I told you we should’ve installed security cameras!” I called after him, though my voice was barely a whisper now.
A thought hit me. Megan’s house. They had cameras pointing at the street. Maybe that was the answer.
Ethan was already sitting at the kitchen table when I came back inside.
“Are you going to call the police?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
He shook his head. “No need. It’s probably just some stupid prank.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, the unease gnawing at me. “Okay.”
“I’ll have to take the bus today,” he added, getting up from the table. “I’ll see you tonight.” Another kiss on the cheek, and he was gone.
I quickly changed and went straight to Megan’s house. Jay opened the door.
“Hey,” I said. “I know this is strange, but someone vandalized Ethan’s car last night. Do your cameras point at our driveway?”
Jay nodded, his expression solemn. “Megan already told me about it. Come in, we’ll check the footage.”
Of course, Megan had told him. She always had to be in the know about everything.
We watched the footage from the night before. At around 2 a.m., a hooded figure appeared on screen, approaching the car, spray-painting the message, then quickly walking away. The figure’s face was completely obscured.
Jay sighed. “Sorry, Rachel. There’s no way to tell who it was.”
“Thank you anyway,” I said, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice. “I appreciate your help.”
Jay hesitated. “Can I ask… do you really think this was a prank?”
I looked at him, uncertainty creeping in. “What else could it be?”
Jay looked me in the eyes, and for a moment, I saw something—concern, maybe? “The message… it seemed personal. Like someone trying to tell you something.”
“You think Ethan’s hiding something?” I asked, voice trembling slightly.
Jay shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the one marrying him.”
I left his house with an uneasy feeling in my gut.
When Ethan came home that evening, he was scrubbing the message off the car. Once the words were gone, he came back inside, the tension between us thick.
“You sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?” I asked, my voice soft but firm.
He smiled, a little too quickly. “There’s nothing, babe. The car’s clean, it’s over.”
But it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Around midnight, I heard Ethan’s phone buzz. I shouldn’t have looked, but I couldn’t stop myself. The message on his phone read: “Meet me after work tomorrow. We need to talk.” It included an address.
I copied the address into my phone, my mind racing with questions.
The next morning, Ethan casually mentioned that he’d be staying late at work. “Lots to handle lately,” he said, his tone light.
“Okay,” I replied, though my heart was pounding in my chest. “I’ll have dinner on my own, then.”
All day, I couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong. Jay’s words echoed in my mind. The strange message. The secret meeting. It all pointed to something I wasn’t ready to face.
After work, I drove to the address. Ethan’s car was already parked outside. I parked across the street, heart hammering in my chest, and watched through the window. Inside, Ethan was sitting across from a woman, papers scattered on the table between them, deep in conversation. They weren’t holding hands or showing any affection. It was a business-like exchange.
I waited, my thoughts a blur. Then Ethan stood up, walked out, and got into his car.
I quickly drove home, hoping to beat him there.
He arrived, parked in front of Megan and Jay’s house instead of our own driveway.
That’s when it hit me. Of course, it was Megan. She was the one who had told me about the vandalism on the car, and I had seen the envy in her eyes when she found out Ethan had proposed. My stomach twisted. Ethan had been lying to me, and not just with the car. He was cheating on me, right under my nose.
I stormed outside, determined to confront him. I crept toward Megan’s house and stood beneath the open window. I could hear voices.