A new notification lit up the screen.

Tamara, my mother-in-law, had posted a new photo.

The caption sounded carefree, almost innocent:
“Turkey, sunshine, and the sea — finally time to relax.”

In the picture, she was smiling widely, a straw hat tilted on her head, a brightly colored cocktail in her hand. Behind her stretched the endless blue of the sea. I smiled back automatically, without thinking.

Then I zoomed in.

Near the water, in the background, stood two figures. Slightly blurred, yet far too familiar for doubt.

My husband, Daniel, who was supposedly away on an urgent business trip, had his arm wrapped around my younger sister, Irene.

Irene was laughing, her head thrown back, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses.
Daniel’s hand rested on her thigh — confident, possessive.
As if it had always belonged there.

The world didn’t collapse.
My heart didn’t shatter.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry.

I simply stared at the screen while, inside my mind, the pieces of a puzzle I had ignored for years began falling into place with icy clarity.

His late-night “work calls.”
Irene’s mysterious partner she never spoke about.
Daniel’s sudden tension whenever I touched his phone.
And the heavy, electric silence between them at family dinners.

Daniel’s favorite phrase echoed in my head:
— “Anasta, you’re overthinking again.”

And Irene’s words, spoken after one of my medical appointments:
— “Not every woman is meant to become a mother…”

I took a screenshot.
Calmly. Without shaking.

I opened the editor and cropped the image until Tamara’s smiling face disappeared completely. Only the truth remained.

I sent the photo to Irene.
No text. No emojis.

Then I called my husband.

He didn’t answer right away. In the background, I could hear waves crashing softly and faint music playing.

— “Yes, Anasta, hi. I’m in a meeting right now, it’s not a good time,” he said casually.

His voice was relaxed. Content. Nothing like a man drowning in work.

— “I just wanted to ask what the weather is like on your business trip,” I replied evenly.
— “Does the sunshine interfere with your meetings?”

The pause stretched.

— “Everything’s fine,” he snapped quickly. “I’ll call you later.”

— “Of course,” I even smiled. “Call me when your ‘business trip’ is over.”

I hung up.

At that exact moment, my phone vibrated again.

Tama”ra was calling.

She must have already seen the comment I’d left under her photo:

“Beautiful picture! Sending my regards to Daniel and Irene as well. They turned out wonderfully.