Chapter 4: The Revelation
The soft, purpling mark on Bethany’s shoulder was a Rorschach test in the dim light. She traced it with her index finger, a slow, thoughtful circle. Raj watched her, his breath still coming in shallow hits, the sweat cooling on his skin. He was adrift in the twisted silk, his body a foreign country. The world outside the eighth-floor window was a silent, neon dream.
Then the vibration started.
A low, insistent buzz, followed by a muffled Lumineers ringtone. It came from the pile of his clothes on the floor. It was the sound of his other life tunneling in.
He didn’t move. Bethany’s finger paused on her bruise.
The phone stopped. Then, a few seconds later, it started again. More urgent this time.
Bethany sighed, a puff of annoyance. She leaned across him, her bare breast brushing his chest, and fished his trousers from the heap. His phone was in the front pocket. The screen lit up the dim room. PRIYA flashed against a background photo of his kids, smiling at the zoo.
His stomach dropped. The hollow feeling was instantly filled with a cold, liquid cement of guilt.
Bethany studied the screen. The smile that touched her lips wasn’t kind. It was curious, almost clinical. She held it out to him, the buzzing a physical thing between them. “The warden calls.”
“Don’t,” he said, but his voice had no strength.
“Don’t what?” She raised an eyebrow. The phone buzzed again, a angry little insect against her palm. With a quick, decisive flick of her thumb, she swiped the red decline icon. The room went silent again.
The silence was worse.
“She’ll call back,” Raj whispered. He could see it. Priya, in their kitchen, the landline receiver in her hand, that little vertical line between her brows deepening.
“Probably.” Bethany dropped the phone onto the nightstand. It landed with a clack beside his wedding band. Two discarded artifacts. She climbed over him, settling her weight on his hips. She wasn’t playful now. Her gaze was direct, challenging. “So what?”
He stared up at her, the city light etching her form in silver and shadow. She was magnificent. And she was a catastrophe. “She’ll be worried.”
“Let her be.” Bethany leaned down, her hair a curtain that smelled of sex and jasmine. She kissed him, a hard, claiming kiss. He could taste the whiskey on her tongue. His body, traitorously, responded to her heat, the heaviness of her on him. She felt him stir underneath her and smiled against his mouth. “See? You’re still here.”
The phone started again. This time, it didn’t stop after a few rings. It was the relentless, pulsating buzz of someone hitting redial. Over and over.
Raj’s eyes flicked to the nightstand. Priya wasn’t just worried now. She was on the verge of panic. It was past midnight. He never stayed out this late without a call, a text, something.
Bethany saw his look. Her expression hardened. “Answer it.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Answer it. Talk to her. Right here.” Her voice was flat. “Tell her you’re working late. Tell her you fell asleep at your desk. Tell her whatever you need to.”
“I can’t…”
“You can. Or you can let it ring and let her imagine something worse.” She shifted, lifting herself off him slightly. “Pick it up.”
His hand trembled as he reached for the phone. The screen was hot. PRIYA. He swiped to answer and brought it to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Raj! Oh my god.” Priya’s voice was tinny, strained with relief. “Where are you? I’ve been calling for twenty minutes. Are you okay?”
He closed his eyes. Bethany watched him, her face unreadable. She was still sitting on him, a intimate, impossible weight. “I’m… I’m fine. Sorry. My phone was on silent. I must have dozed off.”
“Dozed off? At the office?” The relief in her voice was curdling into confusion, then suspicion. “It’s one in the morning. The VPN shows you logged off at six.”
Shit. He hadn’t thought of the VPN. His mind raced, sludge-slow. “I… had dinner with a client. A potential investor from out of town. It ran late. We came back to the office to go over some final numbers. I just put my head down for a second.” The lies came out in a clumsy, too-fast stream.
A pause on the line. He could hear the hum of their refrigerator in the background. The familiar sound was a lance through his heart.
“What’s that sound?” Priya asked, her voice sharper.
“What sound?”
“That… humming. In the background.”
His blood ran cold. It was the low thrum of the hotel’s air conditioning, a constant, anonymous white noise. “Just the server room,” he said, his throat tight. “The AC is loud in here.”
Another silence. This one was longer, heavier. He saw Bethany’s lips curve into a thin, knowing smile. She leaned forward, putting her mouth close to the phone, not touching it. She began to trace his collarbone with her fingernail, a slow, distracting scratch.
“Who’s the client?” Priya asked finally. It was her “I’m not mad, just disappointed” voice. The one she used with the kids when they’d clearly broken something and were lying about it.
“His name is… Olsen. From Chicago.” The name fell out of his mouth, a piece of Bethany he was giving to his wife.
“Olsen.” Priya repeated it, trying it on. “You never mentioned an Olsen.”
“It came up last minute. Look, honey, I’m exhausted. My head is killing me. I’m just going to crash on the couch here. I’ll see you in the morning.” He was babbling now, desperate to hang up.
“On the couch? Raj, you hate that couch. It hurts your back.”
Bethany’s fingernail trailed lower, down his sternum. Her other hand wandered, brushing lightly over his stomach. He jerked, a tiny, involuntary spasm.
“What was that?” Priya asked instantly.
“Nothing. A… a cramp. From sitting too long.” He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out Bethany’s smirk, blocking out the room, trying to conjure his grey-walled cubicle. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep. Kiss the kids for me.”
A sigh, long and world-weary, came through the speaker. “Fine. Be safe. Come straight home in the morning. We have Avi’s soccer game at nine.”
“I know. I’ll be there.”
“I love you.”
The three words were a physical blow. They hung in the perfumed air of Suite 814, a verdict. He opened his mouth, but his tongue was a slab of concrete. The silence stretched.
“Raj?”
“Love you too,” he managed, the words ashes.
He ended the call. The room rushed back in—the soft light, the rumpled sheets, the woman on top of him. He dropped the phone as if it had burned him. It clattered against the nightstand, knocking the wedding band. The ring spun twice with a tiny, metallic whir before settling.
Bethany studied his face. “That,” she said softly, “was expertly done.” There was no admiration in her voice. It was an observation.
He felt sick. He tasted bile and bourbon. “I have to go.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” She pressed down against him, stopping his attempt to sit up. “You told her you were sleeping at the office. So sleep.” She gestured to the lavish bed. “Here is better.”
“This is insane.”
“Is it?” She cocked her head. “You’ve already done the hard part. You lied. You chose. Now you get to live in the choice.” She brushed a damp lock of hair from his forehead. Her touch was almost tender. “Your wife… Priya. She has a nice voice. Concerned.” She paused, and her voice shifted, a perfect, chilling mimicry of Priya’s cadence. “‘Raj? What’s that sound?’”
He flinched.
Bethany’s own voice returned, low and amused. “She loves you. It’s in every word. It’s exhausting, isn’t it?”
He had no answer. The fight had left him. The shame was a cold, heavy blanket. He was too tired to lift it.
She shifted off him, lying on her side facing him. The jazz record had ended; the only sound was the faint pulse of the city. She pulled the sheet over them both. “Stay. Until sunrise. Then you can go back to your life.”
He looked at her. The predator was gone. In its place was a strange, weary companionship. He was a cheater. She was the other woman. They were in it now. He turned onto his side, his back to her, facing the windows and the sprawling, indifferent city.
She didn’t try to hold him. She just settled behind him, her body a warm curve against his back. Her breath tickled the nape of his neck.
He lay there, eyes wide open, watching the blinking lights of a plane crawl across the sky. The bite mark on her shoulder was a dark flower in his peripheral vision. His wife’s voice echoed in the silent room. I love you.
Avi’s soccer game was at nine.
Outside, the neon glow of the city began to soften, the black sky lightening to a deep, bruised grey at the horizon. Dawn was coming.