Betrayed By Him, I Took The MC's Patch

By the time I got off work, my feet were aching, my back hurt, and all I wanted was a hot shower and my bed, but today wasn't about me. Today was Blake's birthday. I hurried into the bakery I'd passed on my way home, praying they hadn't sold the cake I'd ordered that morning. Thankfully, it was waiting behind the counter, a small chocolate cake with white frosting and his name written across it in gold. It had cost more than I'd planned to spend, but Blake only turned twenty-eight once. Besides, he'd been talking about his birthday for weeks. I wanted him to feel special. I wanted him to know that even though work had been exhausting lately, I hadn't forgotten him. When I finally reached our apartment, I checked my reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothed my hair, and balanced the cake in my hands. Then I opened the door. “Happy birthday!” Blake turned from the couch, where he was scrolling through his phone. Surprise crossed his face. For a second, he simply stared at me, then his expression softened. “Mara?” I smiled, lifting the cake slightly. “What? Did you think I'd forget?” He stood so quickly that his phone nearly slipped from his hand. “Baby, I thought you weren't going to be home until late.” “I finished early.” That was a lie. I'd begged my supervisor to let me leave thirty minutes before closing, promising to make up the time tomorrow. Blake crossed the room and pulled me into his arms. “I honestly thought you'd forgotten,” he murmured against my hair. “You've been working so much lately.” Guilt pricked at me. I'd been working so much, but every extra hour had been for us. For the future we'd talked about, the home we wanted, the life we were supposed to build together. “I could never forget your birthday.” He kissed my forehead. “Thank you, baby.” For that moment, every tired muscle in my body seemed to relax. This was why I did it. Why I took extra shifts, why I handed him most of my salary, why I kept telling myself that things would be easier once we got ahead financially. Because I loved him, and when he looked at me like that, I believed he loved me too. “Come on,” I said, setting the cake on the coffee table. “Let's get some pictures before you destroy it.” Blake laughed. “You know I need pictures. This birthday deserves documentation.” He picked up his phone and handed it to me. “Use mine, the camera is better.” I took it, opening the camera while he positioned himself behind the cake. “Move the cake a little to the left,” he instructed. I adjusted it. “Perfect. Now take a few.” I snapped several pictures as he smiled, held up two fingers, and pretended to blow out candles that weren't there. “Let me see.” I handed him the phone, and he looked through the pictures. “Damn, I look good.” “Don't let it get to your head.” “Too late.” He grinned, then returned the phone to me. “Keep it. I'll cut the cake.” I was still scrolling through the pictures when a message appeared at the top of the screen. Unknown number, then a photograph loaded, a naked woman. My fingers went still and for a moment, I couldn't understand what I was seeing. My mind seemed to reject the image, searching for some harmless explanation. Then the message beneath it appeared. *I can't wait to see you again, baby. Last night wasn't enough. When are you coming back for me?* My stomach dropped. I read it once, then again. Behind me, Blake was humming as he searched the kitchen drawer for a knife. I stared at the screen, my heartbeat suddenly loud in my ears. Maybe it was a wrong number, maybe someone had sent it to him by mistake, maybe... Another message appeared. *Your girlfriend still keeping you busy?* The knife drawer slammed shut and I nearly dropped the phone. “Babe, where are the candles?” Blake called. “On the counter,” I answered automatically. My voice sounded normal and that frightened me more than anything. I tapped the conversation, there were dozens of messages. Weeks of them. Pictures, voice notes, pet names, plans to meet. I scrolled upward, my hands trembling harder with every line. *I miss you.* *Wish you were here instead of with her.* *Soon, baby. Just be patient.* Then I found a message from Blake. *You know how things are. Mara thinks we're building a future together.* The woman replied almost immediately. *And are you?* His answer made the room tilt. *I'm comfortable where I am. She practically gives me her whole salary. Why would I leave?* I stopped breathing as I read it again, hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something less cruel. They didn't, two years, two years of handing him my pay. Two years of putting off things I wanted because he said we needed to save. Two years of believing that every sacrifice was bringing us closer to the future he'd promised me. And he'd been laughing about it with another woman, my eyes burned, but I refused to cry. I took screenshots, forwarding the messages and pictures to my own phone. I saved everything I could before locking the screen. I needed proof, because suddenly, I knew that if I confronted him without it, he'd find a way to make me feel crazy. “Mara?” I looked up. Blake stood beside the coffee table, holding a knife and smiling at me. “What's taking so long? Come on. Let's cut this cake.” I stared at him, at the man I'd rushed home for. The man whose birthday I'd remembered when he thought I'd forgotten. The man who had just hugged me and thanked me for loving him. “How long?” I asked. His smile faltered. “What?” “How long have you been sleeping with her?” The knife stopped above the cake and for one brief second, something flashed across his face. Fear, then it was gone. “What the hell are you talking about?” I held up his phone. “Don't.” His eyes dropped to the screen, and I watched the exact moment he understood. “Mara, why are you going through my phone?” I laughed, but it came out broken. “That's your first question?” “You had no right to invade my privacy!” “Your privacy?” My voice rose. “You have naked pictures of another woman on your phone, Blake!” “Keep your voice down.” “Answer me!” He set the knife on the table. “It's not what you think.” I stared at him, unable to believe he was actually saying those words. “Then tell me what it is.” He opened his mouth, closed it, and in that silence, I understood something far worse than the messages. He wasn't sorry I'd found out, he was sorry he'd been caught. I looked at the cake between us, the one I'd spent my last spare money on. The candles were still unlit. “Happy birthday, Blake,” I whispered. Then I placed his phone on the table and stepped away and for the first time in two years, I had no idea what would happen next. But I knew one thing, the man I'd been building my future around had never been building one with me.