Jane suspects her husband, Patrick, of infidelity as he begins to focus more on his phone than her. Then, when she uncovers an unexplained ring behind his car seat, things become hot.
There has been something unusual about my hubby recently. Patrick had become a mystery to me, rather than an open book. When we were dating, he didn’t give a damn about his phone; now he’s fascinated with it and treats it like a valuable secret.
I’ve been eating alone most nights since Patrick has been holed up in our study, pretending to work while, in reality, I could hear him muttering on the phone.
“What’s going on, Patrick?” After two weeks of living with the same frigid routine, I confronted him.
There has been something unusual about my hubby recently.
“Jane, work is demanding,” he said, keeping his attention on her. “It’s going to settle down soon, I promise.”
Patrick normally sat down with me to discuss his work, but this time he went to the study with a cup of coffee.
Not only was there a physical distance between us, but our home was also full with silent and unsaid words.
Following our conversation, Patrick told me to use his car for work a few days later.
When I mentioned that I would be late for work if I stopped at a petrol station, he said, “Use mine, darling,” “I filled it up last night.”
I hopped into Patrick’s car and breathed the familiar scent of the leather seats and cologne.
I discovered it while fidgeting with the driver’s seat: a beautiful ring hidden in a velvet box beneath the seat.
It was clear that it was not mine.
However, it was stunningly gorgeous and had a familiar feel. My heart sunk as I saw the exquisite design and how it shimmered in the sunshine.
Whose ring was this?
Whose ring was this?
As I drove to work, enquiries began to flow in. I started the car. Was there another person present? Had Patrick been seeing another woman, despite his guarded phone and late nights? His phone calls were muffled; who was on the other end?
As I got at work, the thought that Patrick had cheated on me troubled me. Patrick informed me he had a wonderful surprise for me as I approached my 30th birthday.
What if he didn’t live long enough to celebrate with me? What if he decides to go on to someone else?
In a fit of rage—or desperation, or vengeance—I devised a plan. I wanted the other women in Patrick’s life to go through only a fraction of the pain I was going through, thinking this ring belonged to her or was intended for her.
I took my bottle of habanero sauce, which I keep on hand for every meal at work, and smothered the ring with it. Once the ring had dried, I returned it to its original spot and prepared for the impending storm.
I then began seeing my patients after receiving my stethoscope.
When I arrived home, Patrick was preparing supper, but he changed into his shoes as soon as he turned off the stove.
“I have to pay a visit to my mother, who has asked for help with some domestic work. “I’ll be back home soon,” he added as he departed.
I paced the house, anticipating something. I nearly called Patrick’s mother to verify if he had truly paid her a visit.
I reminded myself to “keep it together, Jane,” and helped myself to dinner.
My phone rang, startling me out of my trance. I had to be on guard in case one of my patients experienced a medical emergency.
Rather, it was my closest friend Monica, her voice filled with worry.
“Hi, Jane! She fought for oxygen and cried into the phone, “I need your help!”
“What’s wrong?” I enquired quietly.
“It feels like my hand is on fire after I put on some jewellery. How should I proceed? I’ve never had it before! It’s simply dreadful!”
Her words stunned me to the core. A coincidence was impossible.
So the woman I suspected my husband was having an affair with was actually my best friend?
I required clarity.
After calming Monica down and instructing her that dipping her hand into plain yoghurt would bring a rapid relief, I gently questioned why she was in so much pain.
“I’m not sure, Jane.” I put on the ring, and it started just a few seconds later.” “Patrick was also at a loss for what to do, so he advised calling you,” she shouted, taking a deep breath as she realised she had exposed herself.
“Oh, Monica. Why are you accompanying Patrick? Just tell me.
A pause occurred. She hesitated for a moment before revealing the truth.
Jane, this is not what you believe. I’ve been planning your surprise party with Patrick. I’m ringing you. Patrick’s family has owned it for years, and he wanted you to have it. He had just had it cleaned, which is why he was showing it to me. I just wanted to put it on.
Finally, the puzzle pieces fit together. Patrick’s late evenings, seclusion, and fascination with his phone all appealed to me. In my haste to condemn, I came perilously near to shattering the years of trust and affection we had shared.
Monica was told to have Patrick bring her over so I could examine her hand. I told them everything when they arrived home because I knew I had to make things right, even if the guilt was excruciating.
“Jane, don’t worry,” Monica reassured me. “We should have brought up something earlier. Simply simply, I am relieved that we can fix this right now.”
To ensure that Patrick and Monica realised that I was not harbouring any grudges, I spent the next few days planning a special dinner for the three of us.
“I must express my remorse to both of you. I let my worries drive me and made terrible decisions.”
My spouse reached across the table to hold my hand.
“Love, it’s OK. It is important that we are now being truthful with one another. “I want you to have this right here.”
Patrick reintroduced the ring, pure and untainted by the encounter.
“You can have it now, instead of on your birthday,” he said with a joke.
Although my connections with Patrick and Monica were tested, the truth ultimately strengthened them.
In addition, I still have my birthday to look forward to.
