My Husband's "Assistant"

My husband was out cold.

Middle of the night, his phone lit up on the nightstand—chat app blowing up.

I leaned over and grabbed it, quiet as a breath.

Messages from someone named 'Viv.' Her last one? [Goodnight, Matt.]

I had my fingerprint saved, but I'd never used it. Six years of trust. Six years of believing he was loyal—maybe too awkward to cheat.

But something felt off. So I tapped in.

And just like that, I opened Pandora's box. My heart? Tanked.

Matthew's new assistant? She called him 'Matt.' Not Mr. Langford.

They were on cozy terms. He fixed her leaky rental, hauled in her oversized water jugs, even helped clean up her data messes.

And then it escalated.

A pregnancy test popped up on his phone. Right next to a photo of them together.

He was smiling—soft, tender, like he actually cared.

Then I saw the kicker: a chat with his buddy where he said, [Peyton's great and all, but eating the same thing every day... it gets old.]

***

My fingerprint was saved on his phone, but hey—six years of trust kept me from ever actually using it. I mean, I thought he was loyal. Maybe even too awkward to pull off cheating.

But that night, curiosity won. I tapped in.

Boom. Pandora's freaking box. My heart just detonated.

Viv. That was her name in his contacts. Her profile pic? Full-on cute-girl-next-door vibes—big eyes, baby face, the whole package. Totally his type.

My chest tightened as I scrolled. All the way back to message one—six months ago.

[Mr. Langford, hello! I'm the new intern and your assistant going forward! Please take care of me.]

He'd been cold then. Just shot back a [Mm.]

But Viv? Oh, she was relentless. Constant updates like:

[We're working on a game project—you've gotta keep up with the youth! Look, here's me at an anime expo.]

[That takeout place sucked. Avoid it!]

[This song is everything! You have to hear it!]

She even brought me up:

[Mrs. Langford is so pretty and gentle. Mr. Langford, you're really lucky!]

Yeah. That's what cracked him open. Compliment me once, and suddenly she's getting full sentences.

Polite turned into flirty. Cold turned into clingy.

On a business trip to Jaspan, he brought her along. Their rooms were only a wall apart, but they still made sure to say goodnight. Every. Single. Night.

It became their thing.

Anytime a project wrapped, he'd take her out to celebrate—solo. No team. No awkward "should we invite anyone else?" Just them.

Then there was Hawthorne Bay. He struggled to find the purse I wanted—struggled—but somehow still had the brain space to grab her favorite toner.

[I didn't know which one you used. Finding the counter was a pain, so I just bought them all. Pick your fave.]

[Wow! Mr. Langford, you're the best!]

He brought back gifts—for me and for her. No one else. Not even his mom. She asked for a scarf and he hit her with:

[Mom,