Betrayed by the Numbers

I could see the number of people each person had ever been intimate with. In college, a rich heir and the poor, breathtakingly handsome guy everyone admired confessed to me at the same time. The number above the heir's head was 108. The number above Evan Hart's was zero. So I took Evan's flowers. After we got married, his number became one. For seven years after that, even after he became an Oscar-winning actor, it never rose. Then an exuberant newcomer joined his production. Evan and she clicked. They ran lines late into the night. He guided her through close-contact fight choreography, hand over hand. "Sophie has real instinct," Evan explained. "I'm just excited to see talent." The number above his head hadn't changed, so I believed him. After the shoot wrapped, they seemed to lose touch. I thought nothing had changed. Then, on the most ordinary day imaginable, the number above Evan's head changed from one to two. 01 I stared at the vivid red 2 above Evan's head. Strangely, I didn't think anything at all. It felt more like a stone that had been hanging over me for ages had finally crashed to the ground. Evan didn't notice anything was wrong. He came home as usual, shrugged off his coat, and wrapped me in a hug, mumbling that work had worn him out. As if nothing had changed. Maybe success really did flatter a man. Years later, Evan wasn't any less handsome; if anything, he was more so. His dark, laughing eyes and elegant features made his fans joke that every fictional rake finally had a face. Before today, no one would have guessed I was the only person Evan Hart had ever slept with. But now there was another. Once you know the answer, tracing the steps that led there is easy. After Evan fell asleep that night, I unlocked his phone. The passcode was still my birthday. I searched every social-media app. Everything looked normal. But the numbers never lied. The first person whose number had ever alarmed me was my father. To the world, he was a devoted husband and family man. In a single month, though, the number over his head rose again and again. I refused to believe it. I followed him in secret, and watched him walk out of an apartment building as that number ticked up by one. I had never doubted the numbers after that. Then, scrolling through Evan's contacts, I found an unlisted number. One call had lasted an hour and forty-six minutes. My instincts told me it was the one. I tapped it. A soft ringtone sounded, and the call was answered almost immediately. A familiar, syrupy voice said, "Why are you calling now? Aren't you worried your wife will find out?" Then she laughed. "Or did you get a taste of me and decide you can't get enough?" I said nothing. I ended the call and erased it from the log. Holding the phone, I sat rigidly on the living-room couch. Only after a long while did the pain finally reach my heart. The last scraps of hope shattered with it. 02 After Evan won his Oscar, we had planned to go public. His team had begun laying the groundwork; we were only waiting for the right moment. Before that could happen, Evan agreed to a cameo in a fantasy drama to repay an old favor. He played a revered master there, and met Sophie Lane. On-screen, she played the young apprentice secretly in love with him. Off-screen, she said she had entered the business because she was his fan. They grew closer by the day. The set was not far away, and whenever I had time, I made lunch and sent it over with Evan's assistant. He used to finish every bite. But one day, when I visited the set, I found the lunchbox I had packed with my own hands sitting in front of a stray dog. His assistant, Jason, jumped when he saw me. "L-Lydia, today Sophie bought lunch for the whole crew..." So that made it all right to feed my lunch to a dog? Before I could ask, Sophie stepped forward. Pointing at me with a small, accusing finger, she said righteously, "How can you bully him? I told Jason to do it!" I was angry that my effort had been trashed, and my face must have shown it. But I had hardly bullied anyone. I laughed in disbelief and turned to Evan, who had just arrived. "You agreed with this too? You thought it was fine to feed my homemade lunch to a dog?" Evan froze, then immediately said, "No. I didn't." Everyone looked at Sophie. Her eyes instantly reddened, yet she bit her lip and stubbornly refused to back down. "I didn't do anything wrong. Wasting food is wrong, and bullying people is wrong too!" Seeing her on the verge of tears, Evan softened. "All right. It's not a big deal. You meant well, Sophie. Don't blame yourself." Then he looked at me. "It's only lunch, Lydia. Don't make such a big thing out of it." My heart sank. It wasn't only lunch. It was my care, thrown on the ground and stomped on. Worse was Evan's response. But the crew had to get back to work. Sophie pulled him away, saying, "A master can't be late," and I refused to make a scene by chasing after them. I left. A few days later, Evan called, sounding wounded. He asked why I had stopped sending food. "So it can feed dogs?" I asked. He paused, then turned it back on me. "Sophie's young. She doesn't understand social cues. As the senior person here, am I supposed to punish her over something that small?" "She didn't mean it. Why are you picking a fight with a girl?" We ended badly. Evan eventually apologized first and promised it would not happen again. But the seed of doubt had been planted. The moment his number changed, it finally broke through the soil. 03 I slept badly and got up late the next morning. By the time I came out, Evan had made breakfast: beef noodle soup, my favorite. Wearing an apron and holding a spatula, he smiled at me. "Lydia, come see if I've gotten rusty." Before Evan became famous, he often couldn't get roles. I supported us then. In return, he took over the housework and learned to cook, clean, and do laundry. I used to tease him. "You could be a stay-at-home husband. I wouldn't mind." But he had shaken his head seriously. "Your family would never accept us if I did that. Lydia, I want to become someone worthy of you." And he had done it, rising step by step from background parts to Best Actor. We could not announce our marriage because of his contracts, but everyone in the industry knew Evan Hart had a wife he adored. I believed his promise had been sincere then. His betrayal was real now too, and it cut just as deep. The word taste made my stomach turn. I put down my chopsticks. Evan noticed my expression and panicked. "What's wrong, Lydia? Are you sick? I'll take you to a doctor." The concern in his eyes looked real. My resolve wavered, and I had barely opened my mouth when a soft ringtone sounded. The same one as last night. Without thinking, Evan turned aside to answer. Whatever Sophie said made him look torn. A few seconds later, he faced me, mouth tight with apology. "Lydia, I'm sorry. The studio just scheduled an appearance, and I..." "It's fine," I said with a thoughtful smile, cutting him off. "Go." Don't keep her waiting. My appointment with a divorce attorney was coming up too. 04 Evan looked back three times before he finally left. I got up, called a rideshare, and went to the law office. Hours later, I came out with a draft divorce agreement and ran into someone I had not seen in years. Miles Bennett looked from me to the papers in my hand. He tried to sound concerned, but his mouth kept pulling upward. "Lydia Moore. You're getting divorced?" In college, Miles was the wealthy heir who had confessed to me alongside Evan. Everyone had assumed I would choose him. He had money and movie-star looks. Instead, I chose Evan, an orphan with nothing but a beautiful face. Because I could see their numbers. Miles's had been in the hundreds. I had seen too many men drift through relationships, and all I wanted was someone unspoiled by that carelessness. Evan was the only handsome man I knew who had never treated intimacy casually. Miles did not know any of that. He had never accepted my choice. "I know I was a player," he had once said. "But Lydia, how could you know Evan would never cheat?" "I can't guarantee it," I had answered. "But if he does, I'll know." I was a slow person, really. If a heart briefly wandered, I might never notice. But men, I had thought bitterly, so often let their bodies make the decision first. I had no reason to hide the truth from Miles. I was not the one who had done wrong. "Yes," I said. "He cheated." The curve of Miles's mouth deepened. He coughed, trying to conceal it. "Oh. I'm sorry." Then, as if the idea had just occurred to him, he said, "I'm headed your way. Let me drive you." His office was downtown. My home was in the hills on the other side of Los Angeles. They were nowhere near each other. But I glanced at the number above his head. All these years later, it had not increased. "All right," I said. He was the one who would be driving for hours, not me. 05 On the way, Miles asked, "You're not going to sue him?" I hummed. My mother's birthday was only days away. She had a heart condition and had never been strong. Giving birth to me after a difficult pregnancy had nearly killed her. When I was in middle school, hot-headed and reckless, I exposed my father's affair. It nearly killed her again. After that, I stopped acting on emotion. Even after learning my husband had betrayed me the night before, I had smiled through my mother's concerned questions when she called that morning. She had asked when Evan and I would have a child. For years, Evan's career had been too demanding. Later, tests showed that chronic exhaustion and an inherited condition might make having children difficult for him. I touched my lower stomach without thinking. My period was late this month. I hoped it did not mean what I feared. Then a message from Evan appeared. [Lydia, I have to travel for a few days.] [When I get back, let's go public.] I stared at it. Before I could reply, a tremendous force slammed us from behind. I pitched forward, stopped only by the seat belt digging into my chest. Miles swore. "We got rear-ended." 06 My head spun from the impact. Before I could collect myself, I heard two familiar voices outside. Miles froze halfway out of the car. "Mr. Hart, what do we do?" Sophie's voice trembled with tears. "I just wanted to take you for a drive now that I finally got my license. I didn't mean to have an accident. I don't want reporters dragging me online..." I heard Evan reassure her, then he walked over and stopped beside our window. He knocked twice. "No photos. No police. Forty thousand dollars, and we settle this privately." Miles's windows were darkly tinted. Evan could not see inside. He had no idea I was behind the glass, watching him. The man who had just texted me that he wanted to go public now spoke in a cold negotiating voice, only to protect Sophie's reputation. All at once, I understood. His kindness toward me lately had only been guilt after his affair. Assuming the people inside were dissatisfied, Evan knocked again. His voice hardened. "Sixty thousand. That's enough to buy a new car. Don't get greedy." I pressed the window control. As the glass lowered, the impatience drained from Evan's face, little by little, until it went bloodless. "Evan," I said softly, meeting his frantic eyes. "Let's get divorced." 07 "Lydia." Panic covered Evan's exquisitely handsome face. His words tumbled over one another. "I don't want a divorce. Please, let me explain." I stepped out and faced him. "All right." "Explain why you said you were working when you were taking Sophie for a drive. And tell me who you were with yesterday, and what you did." Under my gaze, as if I knew everything, Evan went white. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He reached for me and tried to pull me toward his car. "Lydia, can we talk at home?" It was a quiet road, but cars still passed now and then. Evan was afraid someone would take pictures. His grip clamped hard around my wrist. I could not shake him off. Just as he was about to drag me to the car, Miles stepped between us with a raised brow and a light smile. "Forcing someone isn't a great look." "Miles Bennett!" Evan's expression changed the instant he recognized him. "Why were you in his car?" He remembered Miles used to want me. Sophie, who had been pretending to disappear into the background, suddenly spoke up. "Lydia, did you betray Mr. Hart first? Why else would you be alone in a car with another man in broad daylight?" Her back was straight, her voice trembling. She looked frightened of me and brave for speaking the truth. Sure enough, suspicion appeared in Evan's eyes. Disgusted, I frowned. "Don't assume everyone is as filthy as the two of you." Miles added, "I happened to run into Lydia. I was giving her a ride." 08 Sophie's eyes filled with tears. Biting her lip, she said, "Lydia, can you just let me go?" "You have everything: a pursuer and someone as wonderful as Mr. Hart. I only have my career." She looked lovely and defiant, and Evan's face softened with pity. After a moment's silence, he turned to me. "Lydia, don't call the police. Making a big deal of it won't help anyone." "What if I do?" Irritation crossed his features. He raked a hand through his hair and sighed at me as though I were being unreasonable. "Lydia, you have to understand. No one can love only one person their whole life. The entertainment business is full of hookups. I've gone seven years without anyone else. Haven't I treated you well enough?" Evan had played so many roles that I no longer knew whether the way he had loved me was a performance too. I had told him I was slow. But slow people can be the most stubborn. After my father cheated, I cut him out of my life. Even when my mother said one more relative meant one more person in your corner, I never called him Dad again. It was the same now. "You don't have to call the police," I said. "But I want a divorce." I handed him the agreement I had already signed. Evan stared at me, his face dark. He seemed offended by my refusal to know my place. Sophie tugged his sleeve, eyes full of pleading. After a long time, he said, "Fine." He took the pen and signed with quick, angry strokes, then gave a bitter laugh. "Let's see how well you do alone. You're a homemaker in your thirties with no job. Don't come crying to me later." He seemed to have forgotten that he was the one who had said his work kept him so busy that, if I worked too, we would barely see each other. He had offered to support me so I could simply be a happy wife with money to spend. Now it was the very thing he despised in me. I quietly put the papers away. I looked at the glaring 2 above Evan's head, at Sophie's barely hidden satisfaction, and laughed once. What was there to hold on to in a partner whose body and heart had both betrayed me?