Not dramatically.
Not suspiciously.
Just a few cars behind.
Craig didn’t go to the post office.
He parked behind a coffee shop, sat in his car for ten minutes, then drove straight home.
Like nothing had happened.
Like he hadn’t just lied to my face.
The Lie Gets Bigger
That night, I searched his travel bag.
Craig had told me he was leaving soon for a three-day work conference.
“It’s fully paid by the company,” he said. “Just work meetings.”
But the printed itinerary told a different story.
Craig wasn’t going to a conference.
He was going gambling.
A boys’ trip packed with casinos, shows, and a luxury hotel suite.
It wasn’t just a lie.
It was a performance.
And I was done being the audience.
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