I Saw Two Faces In My Husband’s Heart Chapter 02
I went to the firm’s headquarters in the Metropolis Financial District to find him.
In the glass elevator, I ran into Amber. She recognized me instantly, offering a bright, effortless smile as she extended her hand.
“Hi, Mrs. Vance! I’m Amber, Ethan’s executive assistant.”
Her demeanor was perfectly poised, completely natural. She pressed the button for the executive suite, then stepped back to stand beside me. Midway up, her work phone rang.
“Ethan?” she said into the receiver, her tone light. “Oh, he usually skips lunch entirely when he’s editing briefs. Just a black coffee — it’s his routine.”
Hanging up, she turned back to me with a pleasant smile. “Are you here to surprise him for lunch?”
The elevator doors slid open. I walked out without giving her an answer.
Inside the corner office, Ethan was buried under a mountain of case files, not even looking up as the door opened. I placed an insulated container on his mahogany desk.
“Do you always skip lunch?”
“Sometimes when things get chaotic, I forget to eat,” he murmured, his eyes still glued to the documents.
Amber knocked and entered to deliver a signature folder. Her gaze flicked to the container, and she offered a warm smile. “You’re so thoughtful, Chris. Ethan was just mentioning last week how much he missed your homemade BBQ ribs, and here you are.”
My hand froze in mid-air, holding the tongs. Ethan kept his head down, quietly taking a bite without correcting her.
Once Amber closed the door behind her, the silence in the room grew heavy.
“She seems to know a great deal about you,” I remarked.
“Who?”
“Your assistant. She knows your lunch schedule, your coffee preferences, even what cravings you mention in passing.”
He set his fork down, exhaling slowly. “Chris, she’s my assistant. Managing my schedule and understanding my working habits is quite literally her job description.”
“Is it?”
“What are you getting at? You know you’re the only one in my heart.” He sighed, picking up his fork to resume eating.
That evening, he stayed late at the office until ten. I walked into his study at home to drop off a small bowl of berries.
His phone screen was illuminated on the desk, displaying a selfie Amber had just sent him. The moment he caught me looking, he smoothly reached out and flipped the device face-down.
“Just firm business,” he said automatically.
“I don’t care.”
I set the plate down and walked out, my hand lingering on the brass door handle for two agonizing seconds.
He didn’t call me back.
On Sunday, he took me out to make up for our anniversary. When the hostess led us to our table, she smiled warmly. “Good to see you again, Mr. Vance. Your usual spot?”
It was the second booth right against the window — a prime location overlooking the city.
As we sat down, I stared at the empty space beside us. “Do you bring people here often?”
His hand faltered slightly as he poured the water. “Just clients. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. The view is lovely.”
When he returned from the restroom, he cut a portion of the meat and placed it on my plate.
“Ethan,” I said quietly, watching him. “Do you ever feel like… there’s someone else standing between us?”
His hands paused for a fraction of a second before he resumed his movements. “Where is this coming from? Why would you say something like that?”
“It’s nothing. Just a random thought.”
As we walked out of the restaurant, his phone buzzed. He stepped slightly to the side to respond, but from the corner of my eye, I caught the preview on the screen.
Amber: [See you tomorrow, Ethan.]
He replied with a casual thumbs-up emoji.
Locking the device, he reached out and took my hand. “Let’s go home.”
I allowed him to lead me through the crowded streets, keeping my eyes fixed on our interlocked fingers. The streetlights stretched our shadows along the pavement.
Suddenly, I remembered the night he first held my hand when we were eighteen. Back then, simply closing my eyes brought a rush of warmth, my mind filled entirely with his face.
I closed my eyes now, my fingers brushing against his pulse point.
The two faces remained. Mine and Amber’s. Perfectly equal, sharing the space down to the millimeter.
He turned back, noticing my hesitation. “Everything alright?”
“Yes,” I replied, stepping forward to match his pace. His grip tightened around my fingers, natural and practiced — exactly the way it had always been.
But I knew. Everything had changed.