On Our Anniversary, He Called Her Name Chapter 06

On Our Anniversary, He Called Her Name Chapter 06

The screenshot sat in my phone for half a month.

During that half month, I changed jobs and moved twice. The final move took me into the empty unit beside Fate’s studio.

He said the landlord was his friend and the rent was cheap.

I came to look at it and signed the lease that same day.

On moving day, Fate treated me to dinner and said we were celebrating my new place.

I said we were celebrating one month since my divorce.

He said that deserved a drink.

Halfway through drinking, my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered. A woman’s voice came through.

“Is this Shew Black’s ex-wife?”

“Who is this?”

“I’m his coworker,” she said. “Do you still have the screenshot of that social media post?”

I paused.

“Which one?”

“The one where he commented, ‘Who’s the real nightmare is still up for debate,’ and River Lord’s laughing emoji. Do you have it?”

Fate looked up at me.

I took my phone and walked to the window.

“What happened?”

She went quiet for two seconds, then lowered her voice.

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“He got chewed out at work today,” she said. “River Lord came to the office to find him. They fought in the underground parking garage, and someone recorded it. Now the whole company is talking.”

“Talking about what?”

“About him cheating during marriage. About her being the other woman. About his comment,” she said. “Some people said he was disgusting. Some said she deserved it. Others dug up photos from three years ago and said those two were already always around each other back then.”

I leaned against the windowsill and looked outside.

Downstairs was a small plaza. A few elderly women were dancing, the music blasting.

“I have the screenshot,” I said. “You want it?”

“It’s not that I want it,” she said. “Everyone wants to see it. The company group chat is asking if anyone followed your account, if anyone saw that post. Some said you must’ve deleted it. Some said you must’ve blocked him. I said I never followed you, so I wanted to ask.”

I thought about it.

“I’ll send it to you.”

We followed each other on social media, and I sent her the screenshot.

She replied with a string of exclamation marks.

Then: Thank you, sis. Take care.

I replied: It’s fine.

When I returned to the table, Fate looked at me.

“Who was it?”

“Shew’s coworker.”

“Asked for the screenshot?”

“Yeah.”

He poured me a glass.

“You gave it to her?”

“I did.”

He nodded and clinked his glass against mine.

He didn’t ask anything else.

The next morning, I woke up to more than thirty messages.

Coworker A: Oh my God, did you see the company group chat?

Coworker B: Did you send the screenshot?

Coworker C: You should’ve done this sooner.

I scrolled through them one by one and found a forwarded chat record.

It was from a group chat called “Company Main Group,” with more than five hundred people.

Someone had posted the screenshot.

Shew’s comment and River’s reply were both right there.

Dozens of messages followed.

“Isn’t this just the truth?”

“He still has the nerve to ask who the real nightmare is?”

“What did that laughing emoji mean? Was she provoking her?”

“I’ve seen River Lord. She came to the office to see him several times, always dressed all pure and innocent.”

“The other woman always acts innocent.”

“His wife said nothing for three years. She gets divorced, posts one thing, and he still attacks her. What kind of person does that?”

“Are those two still together?”

“Together? Yesterday, they fought so hard in the underground parking garage that everyone heard it.”

“What were they fighting about?”

“River blamed him for posting that comment and said he had ruined her. He said she was the one who replied with that laughing emoji first. Then she admitted that she did it on purpose because she wanted people to see how petty his ex-wife was.”

“Holy crap.”

“And then?”

“Then he said, you did that on purpose? She said, so what? He said, do you know the whole company is talking about us now? She said, let them talk, didn’t you say you loved me? He said, loving you means letting you ruin me? She said, how did I ruin you? Weren’t you the one chasing me every day?”

“What happened after that?”

“After that, he told her to get lost, and she ran out crying.”

I looked at those messages for a long time.

I scrolled farther down and saw another one.

It was from River herself.

Someone had screenshotted her social media.

Her latest post had gone up at five that morning.

Caption: Being misunderstood is the fate of anyone who speaks.

Someone commented: Are you the other woman?

She replied: No.

Another person commented: Then why did you use the laughing emoji?

She didn’t reply.

I kept scrolling and found a reposted trending post.

Someone had put the whole thing online.

The headline read: Male coworker cheated during marriage, other woman exposed after playing innocent.

The images included the screenshot and a text transcript of the underground parking garage recording.

There were more than two thousand comments.

“Those two really match. They’re perfect for each other.”

“Ex-wife did great.”

“That laughing emoji alone makes me want to slap someone.”

“The guy is worse. He cheated and still called his ex-wife a nightmare.”

“They were already flirting three years ago, and she waited until now to divorce him. This woman has a good temper.”

I put the phone down.

Fate came out of the kitchen and set two bowls of noodles on the table, one in front of me.

“Finished reading?”

“Finished.”

He sat down and started eating.

I picked up my chopsticks and took a bite.

“Her social media got dug up,” he said. “She posted something three years ago, saying, ‘Waiting for someone,’ with a photo at a movie theater. That was the day you got married.”

I looked up at him.

“Someone found your wedding photos. Same day, outside the same movie theater. When you two went in, she was standing outside.”

I said nothing.

“And,” he lowered his head and ate, his tone casual, “she posted plenty of things like, ‘Saw him again today,’ ‘He said he doesn’t want to go home,’ and ‘When can we finally be out in the open?’ The timing all matches.”

My chopsticks froze midair.

“How do you know all this?”

He looked up at me.

“It’s trending,” he said. “See for yourself.”

I picked up my phone and opened the app.

Trending topic number seventeen: The other woman waited for someone for three years.

I tapped in.

The first post was from a popular account.

It had nine screenshots stitched together, all River’s posts from the past three years. Each one was marked with time, compared against my wedding photos and Shew’s social media screenshot.

There were more than a hundred thousand comments.

“I feel sick.”

“This woman is awful.”

“The guy isn’t decent either.”

“Three years. What did his wife do wrong?”

“He even posted to call her a nightmare. Who’s the real nightmare?”

“I’ll never forget that laughing emoji.”

I scrolled down.

One comment had two hundred thousand likes.

“She waited for one man for three years. His wife stayed beside him for three years. What is she wronged about? What right does she have to feel wronged?”

My phone vibrated.

A text from an unknown number.

“I’m River Lord. Are you satisfied now?”

I looked at the line and didn’t reply.

Another message came.

“Are you happy now? The whole world is cursing us. Are you satisfied?”

Still no reply.

Third message.

“Just wait.”

I put the phone down and kept eating noodles.

Fate looked at me.

“Who?”

“River.”

“What did she say?”

“She asked if I was satisfied.”

He nodded and continued eating.

After the noodles, he went to wash the dishes.

I sat on the couch.

My phone rang again.

This time, it was Shew.

I answered.

His voice was hoarse, like he had stayed up all night.

“Did you post it?”

“No.”

“Then who posted it?”

“Your coworker asked me for it. I gave it to her.”

He was silent for a long time.

“Now the whole company knows,” he said. “My boss talked to me and told me to resign. She lost her job too. People at her company sent the screenshots into their group chat.”

I said nothing.

“Are you satisfied?”

I looked out the window.

Downstairs, the elderly women were still dancing to the music. The song had changed to something livelier.

“She told me to just wait,” I said. “Are you calling to say the same thing?”

He was silent.

“Then I’m hanging up.”

“Wait.”

I waited.

He opened his mouth, but in the end, he only said one thing.

“You’ve changed.”

I laughed faintly.

“I haven’t changed,” I said. “I just stopped acting in your play.”

I hung up.

I set the phone on the coffee table.

Fate came out of the kitchen, drying his hands, and looked at me.

“Want fruit?”

“Do we have any?”

“I’ll buy some.”

He took his keys and headed out. At the door, he looked back.

“Grapes or watermelon?”

“Anything.”

He nodded and opened the door.

I leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling.